Kudera’s head tilts, and she gets that look on her face, the same one the earthwender wore back at the Valley of Cranes, like she suspects who I might be but doesn’t quite accept the possibility. Just because these shamanborn escaped during the prison break doesn’t mean they believe in anything about a soulguide.

Footsteps approach the door to the cell area. Keys jangle, and the door swings open. A guard enters with our meals. I’m surprised by the hearty fare—warm rice porridge and a boiled chicken-leg quarter, fragrant with lemongrass. Prince Meilek is to thank for this.

I eat quickly, mostly to keep my strength. But the other shamanborn eat as if ravenous, licking their bowls and fingers clean.

“Which of you can fight?” I hate to ask, given that they’ve faced so much already. But I have to take stock of all possible assets.

Kudera regards me with a thoughtful tilt of her head. She must be their leader.

“We’re not soldiers,” she says cautiously. “But I have my craft. My familiar can fly, so I’ve ordered him far from the Dead Wood.”

I blink, surprised. “What about the others?”

“We only came across the one spirit. Spirits are drawn to the use of magic. There used to be more in Evewyn, before we were all put in the Valley.”

I nod and pretend like I already knew that. Still, a waterwender might be useful, and it’s more than I thought we had a moment ago. “Did no one try to bond with a familiar to escape the camp?”

“Some.” She looks down. “It always ended in the familiar dying of the rot or being killed by soldiers. We eventually stopped trying. It seemed cruel to risk subjecting them to a painful death just for our sake.”

“Familiars are sacred to us,” Nong says, cutting in. “Souls are the source of all our magic, and only they can access them. Without them, we would be magicless. To harm another shaman’s familiar is unforgiveable.”

As the day passes, they gradually open up about their former lives. Before her imprisonment, Maiya had been a teacher, preparing children with the skills they’d need for the Prince’s Company when they turned eleven. I marvel that shamanborn had once attended the Prince’s Company and even the Queen’s—then called the King’s Company, under Prince Meilek’s father. Apparently, the Royal Army once had a battalion comprised solely of shamanborn.

Even if war between the kingdoms can be prevented, what of the war within Evewyn against its own people? The shamanborn will remember this injustice for generations to come.

Nong, being a medium, had helped young shamans bond with their first familiars. His ability to communicate directly with spirits isn’t a craft reliant upon a familiar. It’s simply a gift some shamans are born with, regardless of their Calling.