“Two weeks ago, the healers brought to the king’s attention an illness among several children for which the usual remedies proved ineffective. The healers and scholars have searched their books and believe that it is a human’s disease brought here by the dead birds that have been found throughout the city. As of now, two children have died.” Her voice sticks on the last word, and I can guess whatever the Ninth Sentinel is feeling right now is the closest she has ever been to true hate. “The healers treating the children are unaffected, and at this time, we believe it only affects the youngest Leonodai.”

I resist looking for Rowan behind me. Her mother runs a school in the northern district. She, Shirene, and Matron Talla love those girls like they are family.

“Horrible as the disease is,” Shirene goes on, “there is no reason to panic. The scholars also found record of a cure—a flower—that grows in the heart of Balmora. King Kharo has commanded that twelve teams of four warriors will go into the humans’ lands, find the cure, and bring it back. You are to exercise caution to go undetected as long as possible.”

Thoughts spin and twist and fight for space in my mind, suffocating me. No one has been sent into Balmora in years, since long before I even began training. It is horrible that kids are sick, but something about this still feels bigger than that.

“The warriors will leave tonight at the eleventh bell, when we won’t be seen by the humans,” says Shirene. “Each team and their respective commanders will receive additional instructions from the Fourth and Sixth Sentinels. Hammond?”

The Second Sentinel, Hammond, comes up beside her. “We want to avoid an unnecessary panic. We also want to keep the disease from spreading. We know many of you have younger family members. As such, the king has postponed the ceremony for warriors-elect tomorrow.”

Instantly, there are murmurs of protest from the warriors-elect, and this time, I don’t stop myself from seeking out Rowan. The look on her face shatters me. That ceremony is all she’s wanted for so long.

“Quiet, please,” Sentinel Renna calls out. Obedience and training bring the room back to a tense silence. “Upon the teams’ return, the warriors-elect will take the oath as normal.”

She inclines her hand to Shirene, who unfurls a scroll. The Ninth Sentinel’s large, pale blue eyes scan the paper for the briefest of moments. “When I call your name, please stand. Teams will join Sentinels Carrick and Hammond in the antechamber and wait for the remaining warriors to be dismissed before receiving instructions.”