Although I pause at every street to assess how exposed we’ll be, the only other people are a stray drunk and a couple searching for a quiet space where they won’t have to pay for a room.

This part of Vos Gillis is more subdued than the night market. Lanterns shine from street corners and the occasional roof, but they’re for function, not decoration. My shadow stretches long and stark over the dirt before I duck into another alley.

The others follow closely just as two guards appear at the end of the alley, blocking our path.

“Sirscha.” Kudera grasps my elbow.

I raise my swords as they bear down on us. From behind me comes the distinct sound of an arrow being loosed.

There’s a gasp and a grunt. No! My mind screams as the first guard reaches me. I slam the hilt of my sword into his temple and then turn, my mind racing back to the horror of Talon’s Teahouse.

Nong lies half on top of Maiya, an arrow embedded in his back. He must have shielded her with his body. Morun clings to Kudera’s waist, wide-eyed with terror.

I can tell with a glance that the arrow punctured something vital. Nong doesn’t move. Maiya’s mouth is open on a soundless scream, her entire body trembling as she squirms out from under Nong’s weight.

With a furious cry, I knock aside the second guard’s sword. I kick him in the face, sending him crashing into the dirt. Then I shift my attention to the archer.

Kudera pulls Maiya and Morun against the wall, eyes frantic, pleading for help.

Why did you come for them, Sirscha? A voice inside me asks. Why would you try?

I came to Vos Gillis to find Kendara and to save Saengo, but why risk helping the shamanborn?

The answer is clear and quick: because I was afraid.

Not for my life. I was afraid of being invisible, a fear I’ve held close from the moment I was old enough to understand that I’d been abandoned with no true name. It’s why I so desperately sought Kendara’s approval. She is the only person besides Saengo who’s ever truly seen me. It’s why I couldn’t allow myself to be beaten in the sparring circle despite that it would have better served me to be underestimated, to be dismissed.

I’d hoped once I secured Kendara’s and the queen’s approval, that irrational part of myself—that childish need to be seen, to be acknowledged—would be appeased.

Standing in the tent at Sab Hlee, at last understanding the enormity of what being a soulguide meant and how I could never hope to measure up, I’d felt an echo of that familiar fear. And I could not bear it.