I took a sip of water and glanced over my shoulder at Voltaire and Pidge. They were listening intently to Booster. I looked away. I’d considered the matter from every angle and there was no help for it, the bandits were doomed. I had to keep them at a distance. I was in the oasis to master the Helix sword and gain my freedom! However, if I failed—I bit my lip and grazed one hand over the crescent moon scars on my arm.

If I did not master the Helix, I would have to return to Jones.

I would take the Final Exam and become a Record Keeper. Jones would torture me for information before I left for Hasting, and I was not strong enough to withstand her. The thought made my stomach toss. With such a cross-purpose in mind, one thing was clear: I could not make friends with the bandits. The less I knew of their plans, the better.

I looked up as Hosea arrived with a trunk. He held the container with ease, letting the widest part rest against his stomach, exactly where my hand had rested last night. My mouth went dry and I coughed, drawing his attention. Our eyes met over the fire. There was nothing out of the ordinary in his. Surely none of the hot feathers I felt in my own stomach. I forced my eyes back to my plate and finished eating.

When it was time to train, there was an acute air of excitement among us as we followed Hosea, with the mysterious trunk in tow, to the training field. He led us to the posts and set the trunk down. We all gathered around him. Instead of opening the trunk, however, he straightened.

“Line up,” he said, folding his arms. “And strip down. I want your chest and feet bare. Arika and Voltaire, keep your shirts, but step forward. Arika, you first.”

I obeyed automatically. He knelt on a knee before me and took a knife from his pocket. He grasped the hem of my blouse and cut an L shape up and to the side. Resting the knife between his teeth, he gripped my blouse in both hands and ripped six inches from the bottom.

Cool air touched my middle.

“Voltaire,” he said, dismissing me.

I resumed my place with the other men, who were now bare-chested. I felt exposed, but I understood why he’d stripped us. He’d explained it last night—a man’s breath mirrors his soul. With our midsections bare, nothing could be hidden. Every catch of fear, every hiccup of anger was on display for observation and discipline.