“Name’s Breven. What’s yours?” he said before taking a bite of the grainy cereal.

“Mara,” Amara replied. It was easier to lie when the lie was close to the truth, something Mother had taught her.

“I’m from Shanalona, the capital of House Vivek and north of Ironmond. I’ve been on the road for over a month. Started my journey the moment the snow was passable. How about you?”

Amara paused her spoon before her lips. Not only was she going to have to deal with company, she wasn’t going to be able to eat either. She lowered her spoon and licked her lips while mentally taking a deep breath. “I’m from the Magyr Mountains.”

“The mountains? Which side?”

Amara stirred her cereal. “The west.”

“Then you haven’t been on the road long.”

“No, I haven’t.” She took a quick bite, hoping the questions would stop.

“Have you ever been to the Temple of Splendor?”

“No.”

“Have you always followed the Light?”

Amara about choked on her cereal. “No.”

Breven glanced curiously at her.

“I’m—uh—new to the order.” Dart’an! What did they call themselves? Followers? Pilgrims? The faithful? Even though she had been with this group for days, she had tuned out most of their words. Breven was the first one to come and chat with her.

He smiled back, his teeth white against his dark skin. “So am I. I’m glad I’m not the only one. Most everyone here has followed the Old Ways for years and even made multiple trips to Lux Casta.”

“They have?” Amara looked around at the ragtag group of people with their dark cloaks, worn clothes and boots, and hair cut short as a sign of their pilgrimage. Amara tugged absentmindedly on the tuft of hair that curled below her chin.

“Was it hard to cut off your hair?”

Her eyes widened, and she dropped her hand. Breven seemed to have no boundaries to his questions.

“Yes,” she said and went back to eating.

Breven tapped his spoon against his bowl. “It was hard for me too.”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His black hair was less than an inch long around his face. She tried to imagine what his hair was like when it was longer. Probably very curly and handsome. Once again she wondered at the strange traditions of the pilgrims and shook her head.

Breven seemed content to finally be quiet, and they both finished breakfast in silence. Besides protection against bandits and robbers, at least there was one advantage to traveling with this group: food and someone to cook it. Everybody shared what they had. However, she could do without all the talk about the Light. Then again, it came with the group.

Days passed. Breven seemed to always make his way to her side, chatting away like the songbirds that filled the trees. The first day, she tried to ignore him, but he never got the hint. The second day, he managed to get her to talk a little. The third day, she actually laughed at one of his stories.