As the thought came, her mind stuttered. It seemed to latch on to an idea—a memory—that wouldn’t quite form.

Shadow stalkers. Death worms. Thunder hawks.

The words passed through her mind and brought the rest tumbling after, all the memories of the last days, of why she wasn’t at home in Edgewood, of what happened there. It all rushed back, and she started to shake.

“Shhh,” the creature said. “Don’t make noise or they’ll beat us. They have no sympathy for tears.”

Ashyn stared at the thing. Not a shadow stalker. Some new monster raised by sorcerers, unleashed on the empire?

A monster that talks? Kindly? Comforts me and warns me?

“W-what are you?” Ashyn asked.

Anger flashed in the thing’s dark eyes. “A girl, like you.”

Ashyn glanced down at her own hand, as if expecting to suddenly see it covered in warts. Of course it wasn’t.

The creature’s voice softened. “It is a deformity of the skin. I am a girl, even if I do not look like one. My name is Belaset. I am nearly eighteen summers. I live in the imperial city.”

Ashyn’s cheeks flared red hot. “I—I’m so sorry. I . . . I have never met . . . I was confused.”

“And your name?” Belaset prompted.

“Ashyn of Edgewood.”

“Edgewood.” Belaset frowned. Then she nodded. “The village that guards the Forest of the Dead.”

Gone now, Ashyn thought. All gone. But she did not say that. There was no reason. Instead she only nodded and lowered her gaze so the girl wouldn’t see the pain there. Then her head shot up, and she looked around wildly.

“Where are we? I . . . There was a dart. Tova. Where’s—”

“If you mean the great dog, I saw them bring him on a cart with you. Where did you get such a huge beast?”

“He’s a . . .” Again, too much to explain under the circumstances. “He’s a special breed. But where are we?” She looked around again, focusing. “A wagon. We’re in a wagon. But it’s not moving.”

“They’re preparing to return for your sister.”

“My sister?”

“They want both of you, of course. Alone, you are exotic, but no more so than dozens of Northern girls in the city. It is the pair that is unique—because you look so alike. Some believe you’re twins, which isn’t possible, of course, but I’m sure that’s what the trader will tell King Machek.”

Machek. King of Denovoi, a small land to the west of the empire. There were dozens of such kingdoms beyond the empire’s borders. Lands the empire did not care to—or could not—conquer. So why did she remember this particular one?

She heard Moria’s voice, talking to village children she’d caught stealing or striking a smaller one.