As the sun rises a ready for bed, I notice a problem. There are five of us and only two tents.

  “The others were destroyed by the reapers,” Quell says, apologetically. “But they’re each big enough for two people, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

  “I’ll take first watch,” Darian says. “That should give us enough beds for the rest of you. You’ll have to group up.”

  Ear and Xamireb look at each other. Quell looks at me. I groan.

  “I sleep outside,” I say. “Throw on a sun cloak or something.”

  “If you’d like to burn through the magi your cloak and then broil in your sleep, be my guest,” Darian says.

  “It’s rather roomy,” Quell adds. “You won’t even notice I’m there!”

  I have doubts.

  After everything else is packed up, Quell ducks into his tent, and I hesitantly follow.

  It’s surprisingly dark and agic, probably. The tent itself is barely lohan Quell is tall, and not quite as wide. Unfortunately, it’s also at that too-awkward-to-crawl, too-awkward-to walk-upright height, so we both have to crouch. As my eyes adjust, I make out the form of Quell shuffling to one side of the tent, where he smooths out his sleeping mat. The other sleeping mat is immediately o his. Roomy my ass.

  But I don’t have much of a choice, and weariness is heavy in my limbs. I thump onto the bed o him, and scoot as far away as I manage, pushing myself up against the opposite vas. My armor is unfortable to y in, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to strip off a few yers with Quell right there. He also seems to opt for the all-clothes-on approach. He sets his gsses aside, and rolls onto his side, fag me. His eyes are unfocused, though; probably without dark vision he ’t see me like I see him. His jaw is w like he wants to say something.

  “Nye…”

  I roll over, putting my ba. “We chat in the m,” I grumble.

  “Oh,” he says quietly. “Alright.”

  If he says anything else, I’m not awake to remember it.

  Despite Captain Darian’s promised watches, I’m never woken up. Maybe she didn’t want to bother the prince. Whatever the reason, when I wake , there’s quiet murmurs outside, and when I opeent’s fp, it’s an hour or so before su.

  The desert is stained e and red in the dwindling sunlight. Harsh, yet beautiful. It’s hard to imagihis is how the people here live every day, hiding away from the broiling daylight hours. Not that I bme them. Just this much sun is making me sweat, and I have to pull my goggles on to keep from squinting.

  Once breakfast is eaten and everything is packed, Darian climbs up on Poppy, and Quell sits behind her. I hesitate, w if there will be enough room for all of us, but Ear gestures for me to climb up, too.

  “Better get cozy,” he says. “You don’t get a personal bubble otlefield.”

  Grimag, I climb aboard behind Quell. Ear brings up the rear, shoving me forward and into Quell’s back. I stiffen as the buffer of space between us vanishes.

  Ear ughs from behind me, also pressing up close. “This should be fun. We’re all aboard, Captain!”

  I go the side. “What about Xamireb?”

  “They’ll be fine,” Ear says. “Not much for riding, anyway.”

  I lurch bato Ear as Poppy jumps into a, then forward into Quell’s back as I overcorrect. On the bright side, he’s dohe same, hand braced against Captain Darian. I mentally gre at Ear: cozy is certainly one word for this.

  “I believe their path curves to the south-east,” Xamireb says from our left. I turn to look. They’re trotting aloo us, their eight legs whirling in unison like pistons of a mae. Yet even I tell they’re not at top speed. I wonder if riding on a star drake would only slow them down.

  “Does that match your trag, Prince Quell?” Xamireb asks.

  Quell squints ahead of us. “Yes, I think I sense something. I’ll let you know if the trail ges at all.”

  Xamireb dips their head, which I guess is as close as you get to a bow while running. “The animals are being evasive. I will check back for verification if I lose it.” And with that, they peel off, rag ahead of the drake as they skitter over the dunes like—well—a spider.

  “Animals?” I ask.

  “Their affinity is Life ara,” Ear says. “Specifically to do with fauna. They speak with them on a rudimentary level, and even and any that are especially simple. Helps with trag—as long as they haven’t already fotten the band of people that passed them by.”

  That doesn’t sound like the most reliable trag method. But I guess Captain Darian trusts their ability enough to stake the princess’s fate on it.

  It gets monotonous from there. There’s nothing to do but talk while we ride, a task which Ear and Quell seem more than happy to lead. They talk about anything and everything, a nothing of importance. An iing roation, or an image they see in the night clouds, or the first food they’ll have when they get back to a real city and are no longer living on rations. I wonder how long they’ve been out there.

  “You see those stars?” Quell points to the sky, trag out a steltion. “That one’s Widengra’s ax, they say. It aloints from west to east, because he was trying to cleave the night sky in two t out the sun, but instead struck the moon, cutting it in half. That’s why there’s two of them.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Why are you tellihis?”

  He shrugs. “In case you o navigate. See? The head poi and the handle points west.”

  “Oh.” I squint up at the stars, trag the shape he’d identified. That’s pretty useful, actually. “Thanks.”

  “The other half of the year you use Yua Tin’s shroud,” Quell tinues. “It’s closer to the north horizon, but it creates a T shape you use to orient yourself. They’re the god of starlight, after all. Always there to provide us light, even on the darkest of nights.”

  Huh. Maybe all those book smarts be put to some practical use after all.

  Then Quell proceeds to go off on a signifitly less useful ta about godly myths involving a copious amount of shapeshifting and questionable copution.

  “What about the demigods,” I say, thinking of Zeyaelid. “Are they, like, half gods? The kids of gods and mortals?”

  “Oh, no.” Quell ughs. “Gods don’t have children. you imagine how many demigods there would be? The gods weren’t born, they ’t procreate, and they ’t die. They simply… are, like the sun and the stars. Zeyaelid is one of Lorata’s champions, which is what makes her a demigod. Sometimes, gods select mortals upon which to bestow a fra of their power. The Champion acts in the god’s name here in the mortal realm and helps carry out their will. In exge for their service, they receive amazing powers, and live far lohan any mortal should. Maees spend their whole life hoping to catch the attention of a god and bee their Champion. Very few obtain it.”

  I frown, chewing on all of this. Quell seems to think highly of the pantheo, what kind of god kidnaps people? Even if the people iion are ued visitors from another world. Okay, that might expin it actually.

  “What’s Lorata like?” I ask.

  Behind me, Ear ughs. “You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

  “Lorata’s the head of the pantheon,” Quell expins. Oh. Whoops. I guess that expins Ear’s rea. “The Seer. She guides the ods with her light and wisdom. It’s said that thousands of years ago the heavens were in disarray, and their discord caused destru aation here in the mortal realm. It was Lorata who finally uhe gods aored order to the world. She’s been maintaining that peace ever since.”

  She doesn’t sound like the kidnapping type. Maybe she even be reasoned with. Surely, someone who is known for wisdom and peace would be willing to talk things out. Maybe I shouldn’t have hid from Zeyaelid that night. I wonder where Hans is now? What Lorata might want with him?

  Perhaps a mystery I’ll never learn the ao.

  We only break up the ride for a brief moonlit lunch, and even then only long enough to dig the food out of Poppy’s side bags. Darian and I chew on some smoked wyver, while the others share jerky, crusty bread, bruised fruit, and some sort of green strips of chopped vegetable that I strongly suspect to be the spoils of a certain murderous cactus. Then, it’s more riding.

  Quell and Xamireb often exge information on the invisible trail they’re following, double cheg their heading against each other. At first I listen in, curious about the magic they’re discussing, but it quickly bees b and monotonous reports on geography that mean nothing to me.

  Darian’s words from the night before e bae, suggesting I speak to Quell about my blood magic. I suppose I could do that—I’m sure he’d love to go off on a ta about obscure magic. But I have another source I poke at for information, first.

  Echo, I think. What do you know about blood affinities?

  [A magical affinity for blood falls within the school of Life ara,] Echo says. [As with all fields of magic, the element iion be maniputed either via spells or Attu. A specifi of biomancy, applications range from using one’s own blood as a on, to trolling the movements in others.]

  Well that sounds horrifisurprising why it’s not a pical affinity to advertise. Knowing I could be capable of such things chills me. Not that I would want such powers.

  But if it came down to fighting for my life, could its use be justified? I afford to ignore such a potentially powerful magic just because I find the idea unsavory? What if álvaro’s life was on the line.

  Yes. Without question: I’d do it for him.

  What are some other applications? I ask Echo. Anything more along the self-defense route?

  [Affirmative. Advanced hemomancers temporarily withstand blows via precise trol over their own blood just beh the area of impact. Users may also have the ability to make their wounds scab more quickly, stemming blood loss.]

  Now that sounds pretty useful. I do that? I ask Echo. Do I know those spells? Or I learn them?

  [The user currently has no innate spells.]

  Aw, darn.

  [However, spells may be unlocked upon Attu of the target element.]

  That gives me pause. You mean Attune blood? Someone else’s?

  [Any blood may be targeted for Attu, so long as it is not already Attuo a different mage, and the user is in direct tact with said volume.]

  I grimace. I have to be toug it? This just gets better aer. Obviously I’m not going to go stick my hand into the dead carcass of an animal somewhere and take its blood. I mean, maybe that wouldn’t have been a terrible idea if I’d known about this yesterday and had time to spend with one of the dead reapers, but I still find the idea highly unappealing.

  Of course, Echo has made it clear that I don’t have to work with other people’s blood. I Attune my own, right? I ask.

  [Affirmative.]

  That’s probably how you’re able to do all those defeeiques she mentioned—and probably how you turn your blood into a on to be used offensively, too.

  It’s creepy. It’s very, very creepy. But if this is the magic I have to work with, then ign it would be a handicap, and I’m not the type to turn down an advantage when I’m offered one.

  How do I Attune my blood? I ask.

  [Attu is achieved through a meditative state where the user attempts to achieve resonance while in direct tact with the target element.]

  Being in direct tact with the target element is not going to be an issue.

  [The quantity of element one is able to Attune is depe upon the mana expended.]

  That might be more of an issue. I have fifty mana, acc to my stats. How much will that get me?

  [Fifty ounces.]

  I frown. Is that a lot? It doesn’t sound like much. Wait, how much blood does a person even have in their body? I have no idea. They don’t teach you this shit in school.

  Not that it really matters: I’m limited to fifty ounces, so that’s what I’ll work with.

  Okay. Now how does this work? Echo said it was some kind of meditation. I y eyes and focus inward. Is this right? Is this how it’s supposed to go?

  The rhythm of the star drake is monotonous and steady. I feel every time one of her feet pounds against the sand, drumming through my body like a heartbeat. Like the o tide. And gradually, I think I feel a simir tide moving through my body, ebbing and flowing.

  My mind drifts, thoughts being abstract. My sciousness seems to swirl through my body, carried along like a leaf on a stream. There’s a cycle here. A metaphor for something bigger than me. Blood magi’t evil—it’s not a repulsive element to be ashamed of. It’s Life. It’s healing. It’s warm, and strong—the will to live inate. It’s a beautiful thing. It’s me.

  “...Nye?”

  A hand squeezes my shoulder, and I jerk upright, blinking through disorientation, my mind rousing slowly as if from sleep.

  [Attu plete.]

  Quell’s looking at me, his face pinched in . “Are you alright?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I gnce around, surprised to find we’ve stopped. Darian and Ear have already dismounted, and Xamireb is heading in from the desert. Warm colors stripe the sky, chasing the stars away.

  “Were you asleep?” Quell asks, perplexed. “Everyo down but you. But you stayed upright. you sleep sitting upright? Actually, that’s kind of impressive.”

  I climb down from Poppy’s back. “I was trying to do an Attu.” And from what Echo said, I think it worked.

  “Attu?” Quell repeats with a frown. He slides down after me. “How you…” His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh! Oh. Wow. I’d heard it ossible for blood affinities, but I’ve never met anyone who’s do. What’s that like?”

  I foy body, try to focus inside my body, and to my surprise, I . I get the distinct impression that if I wao, I could reaside myself and move the blood there any way I like. I decide not to do that.

  It’s a strange sensation, being able to sense myself this way. I wonder what it will feel like when I’m Attuned with all of my blood.

  “It’s weird,” I say shortly, grabbing a tent roll from the star drakes bad beginning to u. “What do you mean you heard it ossible? Should it not be?”

  “Well, not all magical affinities be Attuned,” Quell says. “The affinity has to be to something physical—or a direct magic source. Like, I have illusion magic. There’s nothing for me to tou order to manipute an illusion: I just have to use my mana to ma it. And even some elements that are physical are impossible or impractical to Attune. Like, fire htning, for instance. You ’t exactly meditate while toug either of those for aended period of time. And even if you did, how would you hold onto the bit you Attuned? Ohat fme goes out, that’s it: it’s gone, and now you’ve got to start over and Attune some more. Seems like a bit of a waste, doesn’t it?”

  I’ve clearly dug into some special i of his, because he doesn’t appear anywhere near being done. I drop the tent roll to the desert floor and then grab the buhat needs unpag.

  “I’ll be curious to see how your blood Attu works,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “How long do you think it will st? Will it o be renewed occasionally as your body creates new blood? Or is it a ‘one and doype of thing? Fasating. But it’s good to hear you were able to ma; that will e in handy in a pinch.”

  I tip my head. “What do you mean?”

  “It takes mana to cast my illusions spells,” Quell says as he paear the firepit Darian is outlining. And I mean that literally: I wat fasation as she draws a circle in the sand, fills it with all sorts of plex lines and squiggles, and then holds her hand above the circle. Both her palms and the lines of the circle illumih e light; the sand moves, reshaping itself into a fire pit. Xamireb brings over an armful of dried shrubs and begins to set them up for a fire.

  “It takes mana to do any kind of magic,” Quell tinues. While he lectures, oblivious to the work others are doing, I start to help Ear set up the tents. “Including Attuning something. But once you have Attuned something, that object is part of you; you trol it without spending any more mana. At least, until it’s destroyed, or you lose it. So that’s why having something Attuned is good in a pinch. It means you’re not defenseless, even if you’re out of mana.”

  “ons work just as well for that, Prince Quell,” Darian says. “And a sword never runs out of mana.”

  Quell wrinkles his nose. “It’s just so crude.”

  I g him skeptically. “Doesn’t matter if it keeps you alive.”

  “Precisely,” Darian says. “Now, my prince, if you wouldn’t mind assisting with dinner preparations…”

  “Oh!” he says, as if he only now noticed the campsite unfolding around him. “Sure! Of course.”

  Dinner is more of the wyver, warmed by the fire and served on stes of stone Darian jures from the sand. It was good when I was starving, but I suspect the y will soon wear off.

  Ear also grumbles about the food. “I ’t wait until we get our hands on something not dried, smoked, or salted.”

  “That might be soohan you think,” Xamireb says. “If my heading is right, we’re a week out from The Coil.”

  Ear frowns. “You think they’re taking the prihere?”

  “If they o resupply, it’s the closest ral city,” Darian says. She also doesn’t look pleased. “They might be able to find faster steeds there, too.”

  “I will almost certainly lose track of them in a city,” Xamireb adds. “At, least, the way I’m capable of trag them.” They look to Quell.

  “I might lose Liz’s trail, too,” he admits. “It would be tough to drop illusions in an area with so much foot traffic, which could easily be disrupted or dispelled within minutes.”

  “Then we’ll o go fast,” Darian says. “Rest today. After that, we’ll rise early ae until we find the princess or arrive at The Coil—whichever es first. For the Moonfall agents to be diverting to a city instead of heading straight for home, they may be desperate, and this might be our best ce at catg up. Be ready for anything.”

  The meal passes in uneasy silence, everyone buried in their own thoughts. The firelight glints off his gsses as he stares into the fmes with grim determination. I’m sure he’s scared for his sister and eager for this to be over. Hopefully, someday soon, I’ll likewise be closing in on my brother.