Belen’s gaze turned inward as if he considered my words. “There was a horrible cave-in before the plague.” He took my hand. “Who did you lose?”

I jerked my hand back. “I didn’t lose anyone. I know right where they are. They can both be found under millions of pounds of rock.” I stood and planned to storm off into the woods for some privacy. But Kerrick blocked my way. I resisted the urge to punch him. Instead, I sat next to the nearest tree. He manacled my wrists.

Later that night as I curled up, I let the tears leak from my eyes. I didn’t make a sound. I wouldn’t give Kerrick the satisfaction. Or the hope.

On the tenth—twelfth?—night, something changed. Instead of one ladle, Kerrick filled my bowl with stew. He returned my cloak. The morning question remained, but he slowed his pace as we traveled through the forest. He stopped more often, listening, and he seemed distracted.

He had multiple whispered conversations with Belen, who kept glancing at me in concern.

Kerrick wouldn’t let Belen light a fire that evening. He paced. Not a good sign. Furrows creased Quain’s bald head and Flea was extra jumpy.

“What’s going on?” I asked Belen.

“Mercs closing in.”

“Sorry.”

He waved my apology away. “They would have caught up to us eventually. They started following us soon after we left Jaxton.”

I considered. “You’re trying to make me feel better.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We were overnighting in caves before I escaped, but since then, we’ve been out in the open so we don’t get trapped.”

Belen beamed with pride. “Smart girl.”

“Not smart enough to get away from Kerrick,” I mumbled.

His smile didn’t falter. “No one gets away from Kerrick in the woods.”

“Found that out already.” I glared at Kerrick, but he didn’t notice, which caused me quite a bit of alarm. Grudgingly, I admitted being Kerrick’s prisoner was my best option at this moment. Which said a lot about my life.

When Kerrick stopped pacing and crouched to place his palms on the ground, my concern increased.

“We won’t make it to the ravine in time,” Kerrick said to the others. “We can’t outrun them and they outnumber us, so we’ll have to outsmart them.” He issued orders.

We packed our belongings and headed north toward the ravine. After an hour or so, Kerrick stopped. When he let go of my wrist, I about fainted. He spoke with Belen in a low whisper and then thumped him on the back.

With a strange sense of doom, I watched Kerrick, Loren, Quain and Flea continue north, leaving Belen and me behind. Belen held out his arm. I hooked my hand around his elbow. We walked east.

Stopping hours later, Belen found a dent in a rocky hillside. I couldn’t call it a cave as it wasn’t deep enough, but it cut in just enough to protect both of us from rain or wind. However, it failed to protect us from mercenaries.

According to Belen, the plan had been for Kerrick and the others to lead the mercs north to the ravine. They could travel faster without dragging me along. Belen and I would go west and wait for them to loop back after losing the mercs.

Not a stellar plan, but one that had worked for them before. Belen filled me in on the details as we rested in the shallow shelter. It didn’t take long for the mercs to find us. A noise alerted Belen. He stood, pulled his sword and stepped in front of me, blocking me from view.

I peeked around him. Six men fanned out in front of him. All armed. The seventh hung back, and the way he crinkled his nose when he met my gaze told me why this time Kerrick’s plan hadn’t worked.

The mercs had a magic sniffer—a person who had no magic of his own, but could smell it in others. The stronger ones could track the scent, sometimes hours after, and these could also distinguish the types of magic by the aroma. Before the plague, magic sniffers had been employed to find children with magical powers.

There were eleven different types of magicians in the Fifteen Realms, and all but one of them were born with power. Young children and magic were a dangerous combination. The sooner a child started training, the better. Healing powers were the exception. It could lay dormant for years, undetectable by the sniffers. Mine hid until right after I had turned fifteen. My sister, Noelle, had cut her hand and this urge bloomed in my chest, tugging me to her as if I had been hooked by a fishing line. My mother had started searching for a teacher for me that day.

Belen waited for the mercs to make the first move. Even though they outnumbered him, they hesitated. Not surprising, considering he was a foot taller and two feet wider than their biggest man.

“Look,” the man with the red beard said to Belen. “Just give us the girl and we’ll be on our way.”

“No.”

I touched Belen’s elbow. “Take the offer. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

When he didn’t move, I stepped around him to give myself up. But Belen stopped me with his arm.

“Stay behind me,” he growled.

No arguing with him. As my heart did flips in my chest, I thought fast.

“She’s smarter than you,” Red Beard said. “Last chance.”

Belen tightened his grip on his broad sword—a two-handed weapon that he held easily with one hand.

“I don’t suppose you have a trio of knives hidden somewhere?” I asked him.

“It’s a little late for a distraction,” he said.