I lay awake in bed. Nearly everyone in the camp had left at sunup, leaving a few scattered soldiers, dewloi, Slate, and me. I should have been sleeping so I could be fully present and aware in case I was needed to heal people when the soldiers returned.

Please. Let there be no battle.

I could have slept if not for the pounding anxiety. What if Ember died? How would I tell Romina? I hated that he was gone and in danger. I realize that he normally was, but this time was different. He was more tense. Normally, he had his family to fall back on, but now he was at the whim of the Nomar's negotiating skills.

I could hear the remaining soldiers skirmishing outside. They never stopped.

Who had decided that the Nomars should negotiate? Did they not know about his mother's, Ambrosia's, skills? Ambrosia was born a human, which explained a lot of Ember's tolerance for me. She was a strong Sage and worked her ways up the ranks of the army when she caught the attention of Ash, ten years her senior. They were an unstoppable force every since.

A flash of light hit me, and I forced my eyes shut. I was taking every reason to stay awake and running with it. Sleep. Sleep.

"They were hidin' a fuggin' doxie!" someone exclaimed as someone straddled my waist and grabbed my wrists.

My eyes shot open, and I saw a man wearing a brown tunic straddling me. My mind tried to rationalize how this had happened.

I glanced over to where my leather bracers were.

"Get off!" I shouted, trying to buck him off. "I'm not a doxie," I said, hiding my terror with anger.

I glanced and saw a chubby man wearing brown excitedly taking off his pants and another tall man standing behind him, watching this all unfold with an annoyed acceptance. What was happening?

"Like 'ell you are!" the chubby one said, stepping next to me and making me turn away from where he stood, fully displaying his manhood. I wanted to vomit.

"Finders, keepers," the one on me snarled, yanking the blankets off of me around his thighs that had tightened around my waist.

"I killed the guard," the chubby one complained. "And I'm already ready for a poke," he said. "You hold 'er for me and I'll hold 'er for you," he reasoned. I thrashed, ice of panic filling my veins.

Finally, I realized they had an accent. They weren't northerners. They were invaders. I glanced to the front of the tent and saw a brown splatter on the tent.

I met the eyes of the man standing in back frantically.

"I'm a Slate," I blurt out.

The three of them froze and then glanced at each other. The one in the back looked at me skeptically. "You don't look like one," he asked, stepping closer as if proximity might solve his question.

I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "I..."

"You ain got no answers for us?" the chubby one, stepping closer with his pants pooled at his ankles. The tall one cast him a sharp glance and the chubby one grumpily pulling up his pants.

I breathed through my teeth and nodded, torn between how much I needed to share. I opened my mouth, but the tall one just grabbed the rope that was at his hip. He looped it into a simple bind.

"Let her up," he said. The one on top of me sighed in annoyance and let me up. I was shaking hard.

"Stand up. Turn around," he commanded. I flinched at his command and eyed him warily. He didn't have a southern accent, I noticed. He spoke like a northerner—a true northerner. Why had he betrayed us? I glanced at the skeptical one, who looked like he was eager for me to disobey so he could put his hands on me again. The northerner sighed. "If you are telling the truth, we will put you with the healers," he said, eyes locking with mine. "I swear it."

I met his eye and realized that he was a northern overlord—and he made an oath. A moment passed where I considered his promise. I didn't have much of a choice.

I spun around slowly and felt him walk up to my shoulder. He took one of my hands and slid the loop around it before doing the same with the other hand and quickly binding them together.

"Too tight?" he asked softly, tying them firmly.

After a moment, I shook my head.

"Too loose?" he asked in the same way, only tinged with amusement.

After a few seconds of strategic twisting, I realized that despite the looseness, the rope had no give, leaving me effectively bound. I shook my head again.

"Good," he said. "Follow me, magetrix," the tall one said calmly. I turned around and saw him moving toward the front of the tent. I looked down at my sleep tunic, realizing that I was bare under the long length. I didn't want to go outside like this. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile when he saw my hesitation. "Come with me or stay with the hungry dogs."

I lurched forward and followed him out of the tent. The two hungry dogs followed close behind. One grabbed my arm just above the elbow and used it to maneuver me as if I were resisting. My eyes were locked on the tall one and I was doing all I could to avoid resisting.

We stopped at one of the horse posts and one of the hungry dogs grabbed a length of rope from the post. I watched him warily. "Stay here, magetrix," the tall one said. "I will be back." I nodded smally and the chubby one tied a complex knot with a loop at the end. The other one tightened his grip on my arm and the chubby one lifted the loop.

I flinched back as I realized his intent, but the other grabbed my other arm, keeping me in place. The chubby one set the loop over my head and on my shoulders, sliding the knot loosely around my neck. He grabbed the other end and tied it to the horse post.

"I don know what cha call this knot, but I know it'll tighten, but you can't get it any looser. Pull at your own risk," the one holding my arms said. He let go and let me stand there, arms bound behind my back, tied to a post like a horse. I glanced at the knot at the post and realized that if I turned around and moved closer, I could unknot it.

I waited patiently, keeping my escape plan close to my mind. The problem was that I wasn't an Oxblood. And there was no way I could heal my way out of the situation. My eyes wandered from the camp to the horizon.

Surely Ember would be back soon.

Surely someone told him about the camp's attack.

My eyes wandered down nervously, and I saw that the tall one had returned with a young boy in his grip. The boy couldn't have been older than ten and had his hands tied in front of him. The ring in his nose glinted and his eyes locked onto mine in fear. It was a fear I knew well.

He feared for his life.

Did this boy have an injury I was supposed to heal? Surely some of their own soldiers had injuries.

I realized his intention when he pulled a knife from the sheath at his hip.

The tall one drove the knife into the boy's stomach and swiftly pulled the blade out. I screamed in panic as the boy's eyes went blank and he collapsed without a sound. I lurched toward him, only to be yanked back by the rope around my neck, which tightened significantly.

"Let her go," the tall one said in annoyance. "How are we supposed to test her if she can't reach the boy?"

One of the soldiers behind me grumbled and I pulled again.

"Stop movin' or I won't be able to untie ya," he grumbled. My eyes locked on the boy. Suddenly, my neck went slack. I had been released from the post. I fell forward at the boy's head and my eyes scrambled over his stilling body.

Brown eyes. Brown hair. Red blood. So much blood. Red blood had soaked through the entirety of his shirt and was watering the grass underneath like an accidentally overturned bucket.

I twisted my hands and frantically reached, desperate for skin-to-skin contact. I just had to find him. My hand latched onto his arm and the coldness of it shocked me.

Suddenly, my brain dove into a lake of disparate threads. All I had to do was find the meaning and let his body heal. If I wasn't too late.

I tightened my grip on his arm and closed my eyes. I picked a thread from the lake and began pulling, trying to organize it into something sensible, but once I had made my way to the end of the strand, the beginning was already lost and knotted with another one. I had to save him. I had to.

I came up for air and heard hooting and calling from the soldiers. Filling my lungs, I dove back down into the senseless pit of confusion. Order. There had to be some order here. Some sort of semblance of organization in this cesspool of chaos. Please. Please. I couldn't let him die. I didn't care what happened to me. He needed to live.

I pushed through the weeds, grabbing fistfuls of meaning and rearranging what I could manage. There was too much. The wound was too severe. I felt a tidal wave crash over me as new damage coursed through the boy's body. Maybe if I had healed him right after he was stabbed, but those few seconds had created too much of a mess.

My lungs felt heavy with air, and I burst up for air once more. I opened my eyes and saw that I was still there, sitting on the ground with soldiers surrounding me, eagerly hoping for me to fail. Or maybe they were excited to see a woman dressed on nothing but a nightdress. I was surrounded by enemies.

I felt someone step on the rope around my neck and I fell back as laughter echoed around me. I ignored it and moved back. The rope around my neck was burning.

"Cut me loose!"

I realized that it was my voice.

"Cut. Me. Loose," I demanded, voice dipping low. Suddenly, the magestones of the soldier around me flared brightly. They all glowed Slate. "Cut me loose!" I screeched.

The tall one stumbled forward in a bright panic and cut the rope from around my wrists. I turned around and latched my hands on the boy's face. His eyes were still open in a panicked acceptance of his fate.

My eyes locked with his. I needed an anchor.

I dove back into the lake of his wound and waited. Sentences and words floated past me peacefully and larger and more demanding ones crashed overhead. I just needed to find the key. The water in front of me parted and a single strand stood out. It was light brown, just like the boy's eyes. This was my key.

I snatched it in the water as my lungs began to burn. I had no time to lose. I tied that meaning together and another glowed brown. I tied them together and began looping it in a circle, frantically yanking strand after strand. I could feel the need for air pushing me toward the surface, but I kept myself rooted where I was. I needed to finish this. I needed to.

Suddenly, the water was clear. The diverse meanings had all been sorted and organized. I spun around in the lake and saw that the brown thread had been woven into a bird's nest. Before I could reach out, I felt myself being yanked from the lake.

As I gasped for air, I found the familiar brown eyes locked onto mine. My hands wandered to his stomach and found nothing. It was as if he had never been stabbed. His eyes were brimming with tears, but he was too scared to move. He blinked a few times.

"He needs to rest," I said after I had managed to catch my breath.

As I looked up, I saw the magestones around me slowly return to their normal colors. More surprising was the fear I saw written across the soldiers' faces.

A sudden tug on the rope around my neck pulled me off the boy, who scrambled to his feet and reached out a hand to help me. I accepted and he practically lugged me to my feet. My body ached with exhaustion, but the boy seemed unfazed by his recent healing. Surely, he should be passed out by now? Instead, I felt ready to sleep for a solid week.

"Put her with the Slate," the tall one commanded. He took a slow step back and glanced at the two who had manhandled me earlier. They hesitated. "Now!" he shouted. His voice jostled everyone into action, sending soldier back into their frenzied action around the camp.

The tone had changed very quickly.

Before I could step back, the tall one was in front of me, staring at me curiously. "I am a man of my word," he said. "You will return as a Slate." He took one of my hands, which was smeared with blood, and brought it up to his lips, kissing it gently. "Magetrix."

With that, his disappeared with a flourish of his cape.