My thoughts drift to what Cleo said about Asher, and I come to the same conclusion: I will say nothing. I won’t be forthcoming or subtle. I’ll be silent. If Asher and Saph decide to give things another shot, it’s for the best. My heart belongs to my pack, and when it comes down to it, if I can’t convince the Prime to attack Bedrock, I’ll just be turning my back on Asher—and Powder Town. Regardless of what I’ve pledged, I won’t stay here while my pack is slowly executed.

When we started our morning harvest, Cleo had said that the Prime was likely to make an appearance—she checks in with her workers every few weeks—but as we retire for the midday lie-down, the woman has yet to appear.

Rather than resting, I spend all of our break searching for her, but she’s not at Prime Hall, and no one I speak to has seen her all day. The summer solstice is approaching, and the town is a flurry of activity and excitement. Three nights from now, as the sun sets on the longest day of the year, there will be a celebration—a feast in the town’s center, and dances and prayers performed for the gods. The Prime is likely busy with preparations.

It feels silly to celebrate anything right now. I’ve already been gone longer than I ever planned, and every day I’m away is a day closer to losing another pack-member.

Soon the sun is high in the sky, and I find myself on the central bridge, tears in my eyes as I watch the Serpent River snake south.

“What’s the matter?” a small voice asks.

I look down to find the girl who asked me if I was a god that day I arrived in town. She’s gripping the leather straps of her woven backpack and peering up at me with wide eyes.

I swipe at a tear with the back of my hand. “Someone I know just died.”

“They did? But I didn’t hear the funeral bell. Does the Prime know? We always have a pyre.”

I force a thin-lipped smile. “It was a woman named Alder. She’s not in Powder Town.”

The girl looks confused. “Are you sure you’re not a god?”

“Positive.”

“Then how can you know someone is dead when they’re not even here?”

“She was executed. It was scheduled, and I couldn’t stop it.”

She wrinkles up her nose. “What’s executed?”

I can’t help it; I smile. What a blessing, not to know what an execution is. To have lived in such safety that she is blissfully ignorant of the way the wastes operate. To not know about raids or death or murder. My thoughts switch instantly to Bay. How long does she have until she learns the cruel way of the world?