"Carla is dead," Corven announced, pulling the rag from the severed head mounted on a stake. There was no preamble, no easing the crowd into the news. He said it as if it were just another day in the camp.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by a continuous murmur. Drops of blood and muck splattered the floorboards, flies buzzing around the mass of rotting flesh.
I turned away at the sight of Carla's stiffened face, hands clasped before me. My brown skirt fluttered in the evening breeze as I fixed my gaze on the wooden floor, breathing slowly.
I caused this.
She died because I told her my story. Just like Amelia and Diana had. Just like Daniel always does.
"Carla was spreading false news about a comrade of the Wanderers," Corven said, pacing in front of his five men—six with me among them. Khristen stood beside me, hands clasped behind her back, eyes sweeping the crowd with a stern expression.
"She was trying to sow chaos among us, to bring about division. Division is the last thing we need now," Corven continued. "Aurelia is not a witch; she is not a demon. She is human, like the rest of you, and I will not tolerate lies about her in this camp."
"He really likes you, doesn't he?" Khristen whispered, leaning close.
"Wha… what?" I stammered, eyes widening.
She giggled, a palm covering her lips before falling back to her sides. Her gaze returned to the crowd.
"Don't worry," she said softly. "It may not seem like it, but Corven is a good man. He only seeks to preserve as many humans as possible. Even if his ways are questionable."
I stared at her a moment before turning back to Corven.
"Anyone who spreads false news about another person in the camp—news that could get them killed or exiled—will be executed immediately if they fail to provide proof," Corven declared.
A good man who kills his own without hesitation, hangs her head on a stick, and lies to his people about her death, I thought. My eyes closed, a sigh escaping. "Why does this keep happening to me?" I whispered.
"Mama!" A girl shouted from the crowd.
I turned. She was about fourteen, dressed in a long blue gown, a silk scarf wrapped around her head, freckles dotting her skin. She pushed through the crowd, stopping short at the sight of Carla's head.
My breath caught. I had forgotten Carla was a mother.
"Mama," the girl whispered, shaking her head. Tears pooled in her emerald eyes. She dropped to her knees.
Corven watched silently. "I apologize for your loss, Edith," he said, though the words did not reach his eyes. "But it was necessary to maintain peace and order. I hope you do not let her death break you. She is now forever in the embrace of the gods."
My brows furrowed, fists tightening, anger flaring in my chest. I wanted to strike him, but with a single word he could turn the camp against me. And gods knew what would happen if I used my power on a human.
"You evil dog!" Edith yelled, crying. "I hope you die in a hole, lonely and afraid. I hope you suffer what she suffered. I curse you with all the gods of heaven and hell!" Tears streamed from her eyes.
I glanced at one of Corven's men, drawing a blade. I gasped.
Edith inhaled sharply, clawing up a handful of dirt as she continued her curse. The man took a step forward.
I moved.
Khristen looked at me, confused.
I marched down the platform, dropped to my knees, and pulled her into my arms, pressing her head to my chest. Even if I could not fight, I could at least protect her.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, tears spilling. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I swear."
Edith remained stiff at first, then melted into my embrace, wrapping her arms around my midsection and crying into my chest. I held her tighter.
Corven glanced at us for a brief moment before returning his gaze to the crowd.
"On to the next topic," he said as one of his men removed the severed head. "The capital terrains are no longer safe. The forests are filled with elven soldiers, reducing our access to animals and fruits. With elves nearby, we do not have the luxury of farming."
The crowd remained silent. I rose with Edith, brows drawn tight.
"I need all young, strong men over eighteen to join the Wanderers," Corven continued. "My men will train you, and three days from now we will journey to the border, fight the elves, and cross."
"You can't be serious! Those elves are monsters! They'll wipe us out!" a man yelled.
"I know how powerful the elves are," Corven said. "But we must survive. If we don't fight and help whoever we can across the border, we will starve."
"There is no safe place across the border!" another man shouted. "The elves took everything. If we're caught, we'll be slaughtered."
"Not everywhere has been taken," Corven replied. "If we can cross, we will avoid towns and villages until we reach Vel'soleth."
"That's all the way on the eastern side of the continent," I said. "How will you sustain everyone until then? How do you know the elves aren't still there?"
"They will not leave part of their army guarding an empty city. Most have moved closer to the capital, leaving the coastal settlements empty," Corven said. "As for sustenance, the gods will provide."
He shifted his gaze to the crowd. "If you wish to stay, I will not force you. But know you will never be safe here. The elves will come for you and your children. It is better we take the fight to them than wait for death."
I stared, silenced by his words. As much as I hated it, he was right. Staying was not an option.
The image of Carla's head lingered in my mind long after the crowd had dispersed. I could still hear her daughter's curses at Corven. Her cries.
I had followed her back to her tent to make sure she was safe, holding her in my arms until she finally fell asleep.
Afterward, Khristen summoned me to the training yard.
…
Dressed in an almost-white linen shirt and a grey pair of breeches that reached just below my knees, I stood at the edge of the training yard, watching Khristen shout instructions at the young fighters assigned to her. Corven had asked me to observe how she trained them so I could take students of my own before the move began.
There was no time to teach me the courage he believed Amelia had failed to instil. Instead, he thought that having students—wanting to protect them—would force confidence into my sword arm whether I wanted it or not.
"Forward!" Khristen shouted, hands clasped behind her back as she paced, eyes darting between the students.
They snapped their blades forward, both hands gripping the hilts. Metal flashed beneath the early morning sun, making me squint. They wore black sleeveless shirts and matching tight-fitting trousers that allowed for freer movement.
"Back!" she bellowed, spinning on the heel of her leather boots, her long red jacket fluttering behind her.
The students drew their blades back as far as their shoulders allowed, the edges level with their cheeks.
Despite knowing they were about to battle the elves, they still volunteered. Adults and youths barely over eighteen, yet there was no fear in their eyes. No hesitation in their strikes. I admired it at first. But dread settled in my chest as I remembered Corven's words. His purpose in gathering so many recruits was not only to fight the elves.
It was also to cull the population.
"Spin!" Khristen shouted.
The fighters turned in a full circle, guiding their blades in a sharp downward arc before stepping forward and snapping the blade upward again.
"Roll, stab!"
The students dropped low, threw themselves into a roll to the left, sprang back up, and thrust their blades forward.
"Squat and jab!" Khristen yelled.
I turned toward her. "What?" My left brow rose.
The students froze. Murmurs rippled through them.
"Wait, that's not part of the routine," I said quietly. I had seen the routine several times.
"No?" Khristen crossed her arms. Her brows knitted, her voice growing darker as something less nurturing—and far more violent—flashed in her eyes. "How about you all turn to your neighbors and slash their stomachs open?"
My eyes widened.
The yard fell silent.
No one moved.
One student in the front row gripped his sword tightly, eyes already moving around.
Khristen watched them.
Then she burst into laughter.
An uncertain smile crept onto my face.
Her laughter faded into a chuckle as she shook her head. "Your faces," she said, squeezing her eyes shut.
The students laughed nervously.
"That's it for the morning!" Khristen shouted, her smile vanishing instantly. "Go about your business and be back here by noon."
She turned to face me.
"Lady Khristen!" a male student called out.
Khristen turned slowly.
The boy had blond hair and bright blue eyes. A confident smile spread across his face, as though he were trying to charm her.
My brows furrowed in discomfort.
Khristen marched toward him, drawing a broadsword from her side.
His eyes widened as he stepped back.
She placed the tip of the blade against his throat and pushed lightly. "You're new here, aren't you?"
The boy swallowed and nodded.
"It's Lieutenant, not Lady. Lieutenant!" Khristen corrected. "Now what do you want?"
"I… I just thought it would be educational to see you spar with Aurelia." He pointed at me.
"Eh?" I blinked.
Khristen glanced at me, then back at him. "Why?"
"Well, her fight with the captain was undecided. He made her a Wanderer, but we don't actually know if she's good enough to be one of the best," he explained.
I folded my arms across my chest, eyelids lowering halfway. The audacity.
Khristen considered this for a moment. "You're right." Her lips curled into a devious smirk as she turned toward me, resting her blade across her shoulder. "I also haven't seen her fight before. I heard rumors she almost bested Corven."
"What… what are you doing?" I asked nervously, stepping back.
"But I want to see those skills for myself," Khristen said, leaning forward.
She bolted toward me, sand exploding under her boot.
Her blade sliced in a horizontal arc toward my face. I leaned back just in time.
"Khristen, stop this right now!" I shouted as the blade whistled past my nose.
Ignoring me, she flicked her wrist and thrust toward my stomach. I sidestepped, my feet dragging through the sand.
She kept attacking. I parried empty air, ducked, and dove aside as quickly as I could.
The students laughed.
My gaze snapped toward the little brat who had put me in this situation.
I darted toward him, Khristen chasing close behind.
The other students scrambled out of the way.
His eyes widened.
Khristen slashed at my back.
I slipped around the boy in a blur and stopped behind him.
Khristen's blade came down.
He screamed.
Steel stopped an inch above his skull, dust drifting through the surrounding air.
The boy gasped, chest heaving as he stared up at the gleaming edge.
"If you want a duel, at least let me get a sword!" I shouted.
This was for her safety. My fists would end her instantly.
Khristen withdrew the blade. "Fine."
She took the boy's sword and shoved him gently aside.
I turned to face her, our eyes locking.
She handed me the blade, and we both stepped back three long paces.
She settled into a stance. I did the same.
Khristen moved first, stepping forward quickly, her boots dragging through the sand. She whipped her sword upward.
I sidestepped, spinning as I slashed for her neck.
Khristen ducked, twisted her wrist, and cut for my midsection.
My eyes tracked the blade's trajectory. I jumped, twisting horizontally over the strike and landing behind it.
My feet slid through the sand as I caught my balance.
Then we lunged at each other.