They force us to trail behind the horses, walking in their stench and filth. Sethran tried to talk to us at first, but the leader of the humans shouted at him when he did. The second time he tried, a human punched him across the jaw. The metal studs on his glove left brutal cuts across our commander’s cheek.

As if on cue, Seth spits onto the ground, his saliva still coming up crimson. Our commander got a few words out, though. “If you see a chance to free yourself, take it.”

There is so much to think about, and yet my mind can’t focus. Failing our people. Captured by humans like fish snared in an osprey’s talon.

And Rowan. The human she fought with cradles his hand against his chest—if he is wounded, that tells me they at least fought. If they fought, she could have gotten away. But my fears sing to me, giving life to only the worst possible scenarios.

Without warning, tears well up in my eyes, and when I blink, they slide down my face like rain. I swallow back my pain as much as I can, but it’s Rowan.

Ramsgate’s city walls are made of a dark gray stone with an unfamiliar sheen. The streets are made of broken-up stones, so unlike the Heliana’s welcoming, paved paths. As we’re led beneath the city gates, townsfolk stop their conversations to gawk.

A soldier in the same attire as the others kicks his horse and brings himself over to us. He says something to the humans leading us, and the latter gestures angrily as they respond. After some discussion, the city soldier grabs the end of the rope from his compatriot, and we’re yanked toward a stately building with tall, thin windows.

In one of them, I spot the silhouette of a man watching us. A spark catches by his face, followed by a wash of gray smoke. Smoke pours from his nostrils as he exhales with a smile of a hunter who’s found his next kill.

The doors of the building open directly to a descending staircase. A thick, heady smell pours out, and I gag. Closed, with no room to breathe or move. Just what every Leonodai dreams of.

With one last determined look at the sky, I send my heart and hope up and into the clouds. If I am to die in this wretched place, I hope the skies saw fit to let Rowan live.

31

ROWAN

When I wake, I take a few breaths to brace myself before I sit up. The movement should hurt—but it doesn’t. Nothing does. Heart quickening, I check my body for bruises, cuts. Anything. I touch the pads of my fingertips to my eye. Even that swelling has gone down. The only thing the cure didn’t fix was my missing tooth.