Lu wrinkles her nose. “Their Oaths bind to their bodies through intention, and live within them to punish deviations from a given promise. Volition isn’t a place of punishment. It’s a place for teaching.”

Tension flows from my shoulders. “You have no idea how good that sounds right now. How much I’ve been running, we’ve been running. Even when I’ve been able to call on my ancestors, it drains me after. I’m…” I look out at the grounds, the gold sheen of the barrier marking the safety of this space. “I’m grateful to be here. Relieved.”

“Good.” Lu stands with her collection of items tucked into a satchel, and places the basket on the table. “We’ll get started first thing tomorrow morning. You hungry? We’ve got dinner to prep. The others are already started.”

Ten minutes later, I’m maneuvering around the dining room in the barn with a handful of plates, setting the table for seven.

Lu walks into the room with a pitcher of tea then sets it down and pivots back out the way she came in. The door to the kitchen area swings open and closed behind her, and I get a glimpse of Mariah and Alice laughing as they prep a salad. Hazel pushes through a side door holding another foil serving platter and a pair of tongs, heading to an outdoor kitchen.

When Lu walked us across the grounds, she pointed out where cabins used to stand. “Outdoor prep in plantation kitchens was pretty common. We centralized it at the barn, updated the spaces, added gas and electricity, but we still use some of the old ways of cooking. We don’t have to live in our ancestors’ footsteps to know them, but cooking the way the plantation cooks did… that’s its own type of magic.”

William and Sel asked to walk the Volition border from the inside to get to know the layout of the grounds. Alice stayed behind but she asked too many questions of the cooks, which meant she got put on food prep with Mariah.

The dining room of the barn feels more like a camp building than I’d expected. Lots of long picnic tables, a kitchen at one end, big windows open to the field beyond. The room’s big enough that it could fit a hundred Rootcrafters, easy.

Hazel walks in and sets a large bowl down on the table, reaches in, and pulls out a smaller plastic one, setting it down too. Then she pulls a green bean out of the first, snapping the end.

The sight of her snapping beans reminds me of my dad. The sound reminds me of my childhood, and the only food prep task my parents would give me when I was six and eager to help. I slide down the table to join her and reach into the large bowl, pulling out my own long green bean.