“We need to go!” I yelled, my voice still hoarse. “It’s not safe!”

“Not yet—” North’s jaw set in a line of determination, and I saw him ripping his green cloak from the others. He set it flat on the ground, pressing his hands hard against it. The green cloak faded into the street. I watched, mouth open, as the tavern and buildings around us stopped moving. It lasted only a moment. When the tavern began to move again, he dug his hands harder into the ground, with more insistence.

North caught my eye for a moment, then he nodded, once, twice, and the green cloak reappeared on the ground, caught beneath the loose rubble. I pulled the loom and my bag to my chest.

I scrambled to my feet, pushing my hair out of my eyes, and then North was behind me, pulling me toward him. I didn’t have time to move; he wrapped his black cloak around us, up and over our heads, and blocked out the image of crumbling stone.

“What—?” I choked on my own words, my heart dropping again into my stomach. We were sliding sharply downward, the air buzzing and singing. The world went dark around us, but there was no more fear in my heart.

Ah, I thought, feeling the first brush of tingling warmth as we fell into the unknown. Magic.

CHAPTER THREE

I didn’t have time for another thought. My knees bent to absorb the shock of the sudden contact, but the soft ground shifted beneath me, and I tumbled backward. North tried to brace us, but I twisted out of his grip and landed flat on my bottom with a gasp, our bags spilling out into the grass.

“All right?” he asked immediately, rubbing his eyes. No wonder he couldn’t see straight—the ground was still shaking beneath us.

“What was that?” I whispered. “I was in Cliffton, I swear….”

“It was dark magic,” North said, “meant to toy with your mind, to trap you in your worst fears. Everyone in the tavern was affected.”

“What did you see?” I asked. “How did you break out of it?”

He didn’t answer. The deep grimace on his face was clear as he knelt beside me, though there was only a sliver of moonlight escaping the clouds. The ground wasn’t shaking anymore, I realized, nor was I. It was North who was shaking. I could see his hands trembling.

“What’s the matter with you?” I asked. “Why are you acting like this?”

North had gone deathly pale, and the night’s shadows were heavy across his face. A thin sheen of sweat broke out across his brow. He was in pain, and he couldn’t hide it from me.

The wizard didn’t answer. His shaking hands fumbled around in the tall grass for something—a bottle—and he thrust it at me.

“Who was that man?” I asked. “The one with the powder? He was missing an eye and an ear.” I watched an ugly expression take hold of North’s face. “Do you know him?”

Once again, North looked away. “Take…,” he said past his clenched jaw. “Take this and the blanket…and go to sleep.”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “You obviously need whatever it is more than I do.”

“Take it!” he said wildly, pushing the little blue bottle into my hands. “Take it, or by the gods, I’ll pour every drop down your throat!”

“North—” I began, but he walked away to the small patch of trees and sat down heavily. He clawed at the knot of string around his throat, ripping his cloaks away from him and letting them flutter to the ground. I hadn’t had the chance to fix them since the night before we had left, but I could see how badly they needed it. His back was to me, but I saw how he brought his knees tightly to his chest and pressed his face down hard against them. Something inside of me lurched at the sight, and eventually I got up to wrap his blanket around him. The one my mother had packed for me was thinner, but it was still a comfort. Eventually, I felt the insistent tug of sleep. But all night that little blue bottle lay somewhere between us, past my tired body and just out of reach of his low, muffled cries of pain.

I was restless under the unfamiliar sky. They were the same stars I knew in Cliffton, but the way they glared down at me now was almost mocking. I searched for the constellations, trying to figure out which way the wizard had taken us—east?

I sat up in the soft grass and felt my eyes inevitably drift his way again. He was so still, the rise and fall of his chest so subtle, that for a moment I was actually afraid. His face was cold to the touch, and when my fingers brushed the pale skin of his cheeks he cringed—actually cringed.

My head snapped back up, the weariness in my limbs and mind suddenly gone. Somewhere in the distance an animal let out a long wail, but it didn’t mask the sound of breaking twigs or labored breathing.

The moon’s full, creamy face gave off more than enough light, yet I saw nothing but the scattered patches of trees around us, just large enough for a man to hide behind.

“North,” I whispered. When he didn’t respond I tried again, this time with a hard shake. “North!”

His head lolled to the side, and I had to check once more to make sure he was still breathing. The sound I’d heard was most likely an animal, but there was no way for me to shake the image of the scarred man in the tavern or the crisp red uniforms of Saldorra’s elite soldiers. It was impossible, though, wasn’t it? For the man with the powder to have followed us all the way into the wilderness—how could he have begun to track us when we had left no footprints behind in our escape from Dellark?