“The shaman said—”

“She said you'd die?”

“Yes,” Nomi whispered. “In great pain. Soon. And I'd only just met Timal, and I didn't want to die.”

Ramus's anger had withered and now he looked lost, alone. He looked shrunken. He glanced around the camp at the tents, the rapt Serians and the quietly nodding horses.

Then he looked back at Nomi and she realized his anger had not vanished at all. It had simply grown so cold and concentrated that it had taken on the color of night.

“Neither do I,” he whispered. And he went for Nomi.

The change was startling. The camp went from motionless to chaotic, and even the fire seemed to leap and spark. Nomi stumbled back as Ramus came at her, his hands reaching for her throat. She tripped and fell, and as she went down she kicked out, her right foot connecting with Ramus's wrist. He grunted and let his momentum carry him forward and down, sprawling onto Nomi and crushing her into the heather.

Nomi let out an involuntary laugh. This was so ridiculous, so unbelievable, it could not really be happening.

Ramus's right fist crashed into the side of her head and knocked aside all such thoughts. The fire illuminated his face, his wide eyes, his mouth drawn into a savage grimace as he struck again, fist glancing from Nomi's shoulder and head.

“No!” she shouted, but he was raised above her now, entwining his fingers and bringing both hands up ready to crash them down into her face. “Ramus!”

The horses neighed and snorted, startled from their sleep.

The fire spat and threw sparks at the sky.

Nomi surged up and lashed out, feeling her fist drag across Ramus's teeth. He shouted and fell sideways away from the fire, and Nomi kicked his legs away and reached for a burning stick.

Anger and shame, fury and sadness, her tears bled all of them across her skin.

“You killed me!” Ramus shouted, spitting blood.

Nomi turned and knelt in one motion, bringing the burning stick around with her.

“You think I'm afraid of fire, Nomi?” he cried, slapping the dressed burn on his arm. “My brain's dying, and you think you can scare me with that?”

The Serians were around them then, Beko standing before Ramus with his arms outstretched, Noon behind him, and Lulah kicked the stick from Nomi's hand as Ramin pressed down on her shoulders.

“Both of you calm down and keep quiet,” Beko said. He spoke softly but his words carried a great weight. “I won't watch you fight, and if either of you try, you'll get hurt.”

“I pay you to protect us, Beko!” Nomi said.

“And I'm doing just that.”

Nomi shrugged Ramin's hands from her shoulders. His face appeared beside hers. “Very well,” he said, “but don't move.”

“Ramus?” Beko said. “Are you calm?”

Ramus seemed unable to answer. He stared at Nomi with hatred. Shame as well? She wasn't sure. She hoped so but . . . they should both be ashamed.