"C'mon, boy," the chubby one said, pushing the boy forward. The other grabbed the rope around my neck and led me toward the Slate tent where I presume the other healers who had stayed back in the camp were.

"Where are you taking him?" I asked lowly as a burning pain in my stomach rumbled.

"To the other dewloi," the chubby one said. "Let's hope he's got some of the mojo you've got or your little show will be for naught," he chuckled.

My heart sank as the realization set in. They were killing the dewloi who didn't have capacity. I looked at the boy whose eyes had widened in panic. The chubby one responded by grabbing the back of his neck. The boy's hands were still bound.

They were bound, but mine were free.

The boy turned back to look at me and I nodded. Then, I lurched forward and grabbed hold of the chubby one, yanking him backward. He lost his grip on the boy.

"Run!" I shouted quietly. "Get as far away from here as you can!"

The chubby one let out a string of curses as he lurched for the boy, but he danced back. I grabbed a fistful of the chubby one's shirt and fell back, using all my weight to knock him down, kicking at the back of his leg at the same time. With only a nod, the boy darted out of the camp.

As I fell, the chubby one landed diagonally, falling on my leg and ankle. I yelped as I felt my ankle twist unnaturally under his weight. He didn't move for a second as I felt pain crawl up my ankle and bunch up at my knee.

I saw the boy run into the dense forest just by the camp and grinned despite the pain. He was safe.

The soldier with the rope in my hand yanked hard, nearly choking me and dragging my upper body toward him. My ankle was pinned. The chubby one leaned forward to stand and put all his weight on my joint, making me gasp in pain and lurch as much as I could with the rope around my neck.

The chubby one finally stood, and I pulled my injured ankle toward me, hissing in pain at any movement of the joint.

The chubby one then grabbed the front of my tunic and heaved me to my feet. I landed on my good foot and grabbed the rope at my neck, trying to loosen it before it choked me.

"What the 'ell was that, you fugging whore?" he roared, seemingly more concerned with my attack than the boy's disappearance. His eyes dipped down my top collar that he was pulling back. His magestone flared Slate and he stepped back.

"You lost cha boy," the one holding the rope complained.

Then, realization crossed the chubby one's eyes and he pointed an accusing finger at me. "You lost the boy, din ya?"

"You were going to kill him," I returned sharply. A cold sweat broke over my face and I felt my body heating up as it tried to resolve the injury.

"Forget 'im. We're supposed to bring her to the healers' tent. We're pretty much 'ere," he said. He pulled me forward and I tested weight on my ankle. Once I did, it gave out and I reached my hands down to the ground to steady myself. I stood back up, panting on my good leg. "Ay, you got a boo-boo?" he asked patronizingly. "From when this one tripped on cha leg, eh?"

I didn't grace him with an answer. He just smirked as the chubby one looked on angrily. He pulled me forward and I limped ahead, using my right foot as a balance and essentially hopping forward. At least the tent would be full of healers.

They led me slowly inside and I saw the terrified looks of six of the healers, hands and ankles tied together. They were sat in three lines of two and two southern soldiers looked on, carrying swords at the ready.

I only recognized a few of them, but they clearly recognized me. Being the only female in the camp tended to make me stand out.

The chubby one pushed me down and one of the Slates locked eyes with my ankle, which was already swollen and growing stiffer by the moment. The Slate leaned over instinctively, but the chubby one pulled his sword and leveled it at his face menacingly.

"If anyone as much as heals a bruise on this girl, your throat will be slit beyond 'ealing," he threatened. My heart pounded at his words.

I reached up to loosen the rope around my neck again, but the chubby one grabbed the rope near the back of the loop at my neck and yanked me backward. I used my good foot to follow his motion and realized he was pulling me against the main support post of the tent. He took the rope around my neck and wrapped it around the post, tying it with itself high above my head.

The other took some rope and bound my hands behind my back and around the pole. My nightdress had ridden up on my upper thigh and I couldn't yank it down with my bound hands.

He looked at the other healers. "If she's healed, you're dead, how about that?" he asked. "Leave 'er be and no one has to die today," he said. He glanced at the soldiers keeping guard. "From the commander himself, anyone who heals 'er gets slit, but don't slit 'er. Rough 'er up if she gets antsy, but don slit her."

The soldiers nodded, seemingly a bit miffed at taking orders from him, but content to enforce it just for a little excitement. The other Slate shifted uncomfortably where they were sat.

One of the ones who brough me over left and the chubby one pecked a kiss on my cheek, making me flinch away. He brought his hand to his chest, as if he was offended. He knelt by my outstretched legs and seized my injured foot, yanking my toes forward.

I yelped and my body tensed in pain, but the chubby one just laughed.

"You 'ealers are ridiculous. You can save a man from death, but can't as much as dull your own pain. 'ow dumb," he said and exited.

I grimaced and closed my eyes as the pain in my ankle traveled up my leg. My arms felt hot and sweaty as darkness danced at the edge of my vision.

One of the healers slowly grabbed a blanket from one of the cots and folded it under the curious eye of the soldier. He handed the blanket to the Slate next to him who handed it to the one closest to me. That one glanced at me and gently reached for my swollen ankle.

"Don't," I gritted out.

"I'm not healing, I'm elevating," he said softly. He gently grabbed the back of my heel and lifted my foot, sliding the folded blanket under it. He set it down gently and faced forward again. He looked at the guard and lifted his hand. "No healing, just elevating," he said. The soldier just rolled his eyes.

The same one scooted over and gently tugged at the bottom of my dress, untucking where it was caught so it covered down to my knees.

"Thank you," I managed.

I swallowed, panic rising over how tight the rope around my neck was. I just wanted s liver of relief. I took a deep breath slowly. If I breathed slowly, it was like I didn't even have a rope around my neck. Slow, deep breaths.

"What do you intend to do with us, sir? We are peaceful healers. We mean no harm," one of the Slate asked, lifting his hands in a symbol of peace.

"We're taking you south," one of the soldiers finally said.

"We have families," another argued. "Why not let us free and we will bring them with us south. Why—"

"Shut it," the soldier snapped. "Not another word out of you. You'll sell for a pretty penny, but not if you're insisting on being a prat." At this, the healers stilled.

I focused on my breath for what felt like forever, but what may have only been a half hour. Was Ember dead? What did this mean? Did they pretend to be allies and turn their backs? Was Emory overrun?

The Slate next to me interrupted my thoughts. "Miss Naomi," he greeted simply, eyes narrowed in concern.

I nodded.

He nodded and leaned back, stretching out his legs. "My daughter is a Slate as well. Female Slates are doubly rare. She married an overlord and works as a healer for a local apothecary." I felt sadness rising as I realized he was the one who said he had a family. What would happen to them? "Why did you choose this life? The life of a soldier is hardly a place for a Slate, let alone a female one," he asked quietly, hiding our conversation among the soft patter of conversation outside the tent.

I stretched my back as much as I could while sitting against this post. "I was a dewlos," I said. "Opportunity is rare for my people."

He narrowed his eyes. "Surely, there must be more. Lord Strapos wouldn't force a dewlos onto the battlefield. He is fierce, but he is only that way because he cares for his family—his sisters, especially. I could not imagine our leader dragging a woman into battle without her interest."

He was right. Ember pushed back against my suggestion from the moment he heard it. "My brother," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I realized what was happening. "My brother was sold as a dewlos before I was when he was ten. I was supposed to keep watch over him, but he was snatched from under my nose. When I was sold, the traders told me he became a soldier." I glanced at him. "I need to find him," I admitted.

"Why?"

My chest ached. The sun was beginning to dip down in the sky, indicating that afternoon was well along its path. "Because he is my little brother," I said. "It's my job to protect him and I already failed once. I need to find him and not fail again."

The Slate nodded and turned back to facing forward.

As if possessed by a certain thought, he turned back. "Have you ever considered that maybe he was out looking for you, too?"

+++

I was nodding off into an exhausted afternoon nap when the flap of the tent burst open. "Up! Get up, Slate. Your carriages await!"

It was the tall one—the northerner. A few soldiers followed in after him as the healers made their way to their feet. The tall one locked eyes with me and walked straight over.

"You look comfortable," he commented. With my neck lashed to the post and ankle swollen thicker than a river during the wet season, I hardly fit that description. The corners of his mouth tugged up and he nudged my ankle with his foot. I winced and tried to cover it with a look of annoyance. "I heard the fat soldier fell on your foot," he said. His eyes narrowed. "Shortly before that dewlos ran off."

I didn't answer him. I didn't have anything to say.

"Well, I will get the rest of the healers set and return for you, magetrix. I have arranged for you to ride with me. We will have your ankle healed once you are settled in more permanent...custody. We will be gone from this camp within the hour, leaving nothing but dead bodies and the scent of the south." He smiled again and turned to leave.

"Why are you betraying us? You're a northerner."

He whirled on me and smirked. "I am betraying no one. I see the scar in your nose. You were a dewlos just like me. I escaped to the south and found that unlike the north, which is run by the horrid Three, in the south anyone can earn a life. Hard work, ingenuity, a little manipulation. I have a future there. In fact, I am due a wife upon my return. So, tell me. Who is the real betrayer? Me? Or the northerners who sold me?"

"Were you really killing dewloi?"

Regret flash over his eyes as quickly as it passed. "The ones who did not earn a place met their fate, just as the northern soldiers who opposed us."

Death. There must have been so much death. I glanced at the cut on his face. At least people fought back. At least they didn't sit back and accept defeat.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Cricket," I said.

He rolled his eyes. "Your real name."

"As long as you are treating me like a bug, I may as well be called one."

"Naomi," he said, "You are truly a gem."

"Why'd you ask me if you already knew?" I accused tiredly. He was playing games. Games I did not enjoy.

"What?" he asked playfully. "Aren't you curious how I know?" he asked.

"I'm the only female in the camp, so most of our soldiers know my name. It's not exactly a surprise. And you? Your name?"

The tall one smirked. "Vincent. The Vengeful."

"Coincidental," I commented.

He smirked and nodded, eyes traveling up the rope that was bound around my neck. He tugged on the bit around my neck, and I swallowed painfully as he let go. "Naomi, a pleasure."

I didn't respond.

"You will be joining me in my carriage," he said. He nodded to the two soldiers. "Keep her here. I will return in a few minutes." They nodded.

Vincent smirked at me and spun out of the tent. After the interaction, the soldiers examined me with a bit more curiosity. I ignored their gaze. How had I started as a free girl, was sold as a dewlos, was freed once more, only to fall into the hands of southern soldiers?

I focused on my shallow breathing. My mind wandered to the dewlos boy who had escaped. I could only pray he made his way into a town.

His wound was serious. Yet, he survived. How had that happened? Maybe he was a Slate and combined his power with my own. That would explain the startling Slate glow of every magestone around. Or maybe that was—

The flap of the tent bust open. Vincent stalked over to me quickly and pulled out a knife. He slid the rope at my throat, making me flinch as I felt the blade lick my neck.

"Relax," he complained, clearly irritated. Then, he sliced the rope holding my wrists together. He looked at the two guards. "Grab her and bind her wrists again," he commanded. There was a tinge of hurried concern in his voice. "Should have grabbed the important one first," he muttered under his breath.

"They're back?" I asked breathlessly. One look confirmed my guess.

That sent the guards flying into motion. One grabbed my arms and yanked them forward while another pulled a rope from a pile that they must have used on the healers and bound my wrists together tightly. I yelped as one of them threw me over his shoulder.

He was tall and the ground was a startling distance away.

Vincent exited the tent and we followed shortly thereafter. I saw that two carriages were departing—they had the locks on the outside, so I could only assume that the Slate were locked inside. A few horses stood near the edge of camp and Vincent beelined that way. I, unwillingly, followed suite. He jumped onto the horse and gestured for the guard to hand me up to him.

He lifted me up as if I weighed nothing and my ankle smashed against the horse, sending a hot chill through my body. Vincent righted me in front of him on the saddle and wrapped his arms around me to grab the reigns. The bottom of my dress wasn't wide enough, which made it rid up nearly to indecency. Thankfully the back had tucked under me. I latched onto the horse's mane as well as I could with my bound hands, leaning away from the stifling closeness of Vincent.

At least six other men were hopping quickly on horses and bolting away. We started and galloped for a few seconds. I glanced to my side as I heard a cry.

Suddenly, the back of the horse dropped, making Vincent cry out in panic. The horse's backside collapsed, sending Vincent and I flying backward into the soft grass. I rolled onto my side, trying to stay in cover in the long grass in case I was seen as an enemy. I heard the flying of arrows overhead and ducked into a ball, trying to cover my head as best I could.

A heavy hand landed on my shoulder and yanked me backward. Suddenly, two arms wrapped around me, and the arrows stopped. Footsteps approached.

"Get up," Vincent hissed. Dizziness swept over me, and Vincent swore loudly in my ear. I saw the horse had an arrow in its hindleg. Vincent shoved me down by the horse. "Heal it," he commanded.

He grabbed a bow and sheath of arrows from the side of his saddle and loaded an arrow.

I turned to the horse and placed a hand on her. She was bleeding badly and I needed to remove the arrow. I gripped the arrow and took a deep breath, pulling hard. My hands slipped down the length of the arrow. I couldn't get a good grip.

I pulled the cloth of my tunic over my hands and tried again, successfully removing the arrow from its hindleg. She was terrified and I could only do so much to soothe her. Time to heal. I set a hand on her leg and began stitching together her leg.

An arrow flew overhead, and Vincent peeked over, letting one fly. He swore again. "Hurry up," he shouted.

Suddenly, I stopped healing. If I healed quickly, all I was doing was aiding in my own kidnap, right? Vincent saw what I was doing and lashed out, grabbing a handful of my hair. I cried out, but his grip tightened.

"Heal the horse," he commanded. "Or I will put an arrow in your ankle and make you walk all the way," he said, letting down and throwing me against the horse. He stared at me. "Now."

I stalled and he reacted by grabbing my hair again, more roughly and shoving my face against the horse's side.

He turned back to me. "Heal it!" he shouted.

I began helping her and soon, the wound disappeared. The horse slowly began standing.

"C'mon," he said, grabbing another fistful of my hair and yanking me to my feet. I yelped in pain and fear and his grip changed to my throat, his meaty hand gripping it firmly. I raised my bound hands to my throat, trying to pry him off.

Shouting grew louder and a frantic obsession to stay alive filled my veins like ice water.

He used his other hand to grab me by the inner thigh and threw me on top of the horse. I landed heavily on my stomach, and he swung up after me. He slid his foot in the space between my bound arms and into the stirrup, pinning my upper body to the right side of the horse.

He kicked the horse into action, and I felt her muscles tense underneath me.

I only had one weapon left. I bit down hard on his leg and he cursed, kicking his foot out of the stirrup and giving me the opportunity to free my hands. With a prayer, I pushed of the horse, crashing hard onto the dirt.

The horse continued racing down the path and I lay there for a moment, stunned in the long grass.

I heard footsteps approaching and the frantic obsession reared its ugly head. As a hand landed on my shoulder before I could rise, I snapped up and tried to thrust it off.

I hated people touching me.

"Naomi!" a familiar voice said.

I turned. It was Iric. "Iric?" I asked incredulously. Relief flooded me and tears crept uninvited into my eyes. My eyes wandered down and I saw his magestone glowing a bright Slate.

"Ember! She's here!"