Ember and I didn't speak to each other as we rode in the carriage back to his house. Soldiers and Slates had poured in from other camps, but the devastation was severe.

Ukina's wedding was tomorrow, and Becker insisted that they didn't postpone.

Lord and Lady Strapos sent their regards but would remain where they were. This attack was a declaration of war.

We were at war once again. My ankle, neck, and head throbbed, but my chest hurt even worse. I was incredibly grateful that Ember and Iric were both alive. Yet, I felt guilty. They shouldn't have needed to leave their wounded to find me. I wasn't worth that.

"You know a dewlos alerted us that the southerners were betraying us," Ember said softly. I glanced at him warily. "We were able to defend ourselves. Nearly all our loses were Slates that they had been silently taking out. They kidnapped a few of the powerful ones. They were looking for powerful Slates," he said.

I nodded and stared out the window.

Ember sighed. "The dewlos said that a man stabbed him in the chest with a knife. The young man went on and on about how a magetrix saved him."

I avoided his eyes.

"I don't know how much of that was made up," he admitted. "But it seemed like the southerners were looking for powerful Slates and you fell into that category."

I shrugged as tears began falling silently down my face.

"Did you heal that boy?" Ember asked.

I nodded.

Ember sighed. "Okay."

We drove on in silence. I could feel my heartbeat in my ankle. There were no mirrors at the camp, but I had no doubt that I looked as bad as I felt.

"Naomi," Ember started, "Don't be mad at me," he said. "I'm sorry. I had no idea you wouldn't be safe. If I had an inkling of what they were planning, I would have sent you back to the—"

"Mad?" I whirled on him. "You think I'm mad at you?" I whispered in astonishment. "It's not your job to protect me. I'm...sad that so many people died. I'm sad that people were hurt and there was nothing I could do about it. I'm not mad at you because I got hurt."

Ember lowered his eyebrows. "It was my fault. I am supposed to be—"

"Stop, Ember. Just stop. I'm sorry I lied about being okay. I was overwhelmed."

He simply nodded. We lapsed into silence again.

"How many?" I asked. "How many died?"

"Ninety-six. So far." The pain on his face made my stomach turn.

I nodded. What if one of those were Anthony? Would I know when he died? Would there be a sign? An indication? I glanced down at my hand and clenched it into a fist.

"Naomi, please do not tell anyone about healing the boy," he said seriously. We met eyes and I saw that his beard was longer than normal—more rugged. Handsome. I shook off that thought as he continued. "I would rather no one know you are one of the Slates that the south was going to take. I'd rather keep you safely anonymous at least until we know what their plan is."

I nodded. I didn't tell him that they knew my name. I didn't tell him about Vincent. I didn't tell him about the creeping feeling that he would be back.

I didn't tell him about Anthony.

My heart twisted as we passed another small village. I needed him back. I needed Anthony. If he was gone, then I truly had nothing left.