Nym’ellia looks at me, dread in her eyes, and I can read her fear of what will happen to her sister.

It’s not safe for them to be with me, I consider guiltily as I scan the hostile wilds. Vogel knows where I am and how I’m glamoured. But if I leave them, Nym’ellia will soon be an orphaned refugee.

“Rest a moment longer,” I offer Emberlyyn and Tibryl as I rise, then resheathe the blade and pull my tunic over it, deciding to keep my weapons hidden. “Let the Meadowsweet draw your fever down. We’ll move faster once it does. I’ll watch over everyone.”

Emberlyyn nods, a mixture of gratitude and foreboding in her amethyst eyes—eyes that soon flutter closed. Everything is quiet save for the occasional rumble of thunder, storm-wary birdsong in the trees, insects chirring. Something brushes my thumb and I look down to find two violet spiders there, the spiders here crawling over me with disturbing frequency. So many spiders here I find myself increasingly shaking them off. At one point, a gauzy band of webbing stretched out over the forest so widely, we had to paw our way through it to keep advancing east.

I brush them off my wand hand, the purple-camouflage hues of so much of the forest wildlife here a surreal change that keeps surprising me.

“They’re going to hate me in Noilaan.”

Surprised, I look up and meet Nym’ellia’s piercing green gaze. She’s leaning against a plum-purple tree, her expression jaded—much too jaded for her young age. “They hate Roaches,” she says flatly. “And I look like one.”

I inwardly recoil from the slur. I don’t want to believe her, but I fear there’s truth to her words.

“I don’t think they’ll all hate you,” I say, wanting to will it so. “There’s always some people like that, but they won’t all be that way.”

Her mouth twists into a frown. “You don’t understand. You don’t look like a Roach.”

A bitter, incredulous laugh almost escapes me. Oh, Nym’ellia. You have no idea.

“No one wants me anywhere.” She draws herself in protectively, sparing a quick look toward her mother, both Emberlyyn and Tibryl asleep against the mossy stone.

“Well, I want you here,” I say, meeting her tortured gaze. “And so will my family and friends.”

Her brow creases. “You’ve friends in Noilaan?” There’s a fragile trace of hope in the question.

“I do.” I glance east as a rush of longing for my brothers and other loved ones washes over me anew. And Yvan...

Emberlyyn’s eyes flutter open, breaking into the thought. She gives a start and blinks dazedly at our purple surroundings as if she’s unsure how she wound up here.