I’m no sorcerer. I can’t bend the magic to my will. Which is just as well; I’m afraid what might happen to my hair.

Magic squirms beneath the crust of the earth, Elisa always says, yearning to break free. I don’t believe in any god, but the power she speaks of is real. When I reach for it, it tingles along my neck, suffuses me with warmth, connects me to everything. And sometimes, when I’m lucky, the magic speeds the healing of my wounds.

I close my eyes, trying to be mindful of all my body’s sensations, like Elisa taught me. Suddenly, everything is too familiar. Lying on a poking straw tick, trying to sleep through unspeakable pain. For a brief moment, I smell damp pinewood smoking on the fire, mixed with the scent of cheap ale on sour breath. But I swallow, and it’s gone. A phantom memory. Not even real.

I clutch the Godstone to my chest and firmly remind myself that I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

Hours later, the brass bell is like a cymbal at the base of my skull. I sense everyone scurrying around me, making their bunks, throwing on their boots. My nose feels like it has swollen to twice its size, and my rib gives me a nasty pinch as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and toss my Godstone back into the drawer.

A quick glance toward Iván’s bunk reveals that he’s already gone, his bed perfectly made. He’s likely eating right now.

“You all right, Red?” Aldo asks. An imprint from a blanket wrinkle is pressed into his left cheek.

“Not bad,” I tell him with forced cheer. I can handle a swollen nose and a nasty rib pinch. Maybe the Godstone worked a little.

“Don’t be too long,” he warns. “You need to make a show of looking strong in the sand today, even if you don’t feel it.”

“Good point.”

“I’ll save a place for you at the breakfast table.”

Aldo, and everyone else, exits the barracks for the mess while I lace my boots. Once they’re gone, I change back into my almost-dry shirt and re-don the vest. I stand and gently stretch, testing my muscles. My bruised rib pulls badly, but it’s not hampering my motion. I got lucky.

I’m heading toward the doorway when my belly cramps, deep and low, and I stop in my tracks, swearing loudly.

The spasms herald my monthly courses, coming several days earlier than I planned, probably because of the beating I took last night. If all else goes normally, the cramping means I have exactly one day to procure supplies.

I have no idea who to ask. And if I did, would they think I was asking for special treatment? Maybe no one will notice if some of the laundry room rags go missing.

On the other hand, getting caught stealing is the fastest way to get kicked out of the Guard.

I hurry to the mess hall to down a quick breakfast. I’ll have to figure it out later.