Rugar’s mercenaries scattered. Some dived for cover. Others were too slow.

  BOOOM!!!

  Chunks of earth and grass were sent flying ten feet in the air. The blast pushed back a few of the mercenaries, but many more let out grunts of pain from metal shrapnel finding flesh.

  I hope no one was dead… for my sake.

  Dugan caught up to us, and we rode up to Isla and Thor, her ever-vigilant guard.

  I avoided Isla’s concerned stare. As much as I hated to admit it, she helped me escape from Took.

  "Thank you.”

  "For what?" Isla asked.

  "You tripped Took’s horse so I could escape."

  She shook her head.

  “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

  "Then who…”

  "Never mind that now. We need to get to Miller's Hill," Castille said.

  Thor grunted in agreement.

  We rode hard along the road for the next ten minutes, dismounting to walk up Miller's Hill and look over the battlefield. Castille pulled out a spyglass from Thor's saddlebag while the rest of us made the best use of our eyes.

  "Hmm," Castille said.

  "Is that a good hmm?" I asked.

  "Aye, it is. Our mercenary friends took some injuries, but they're all moving about, so it's nothing too serious. More importantly, they aren't following us. We have your bomb to thank for that. Right now, I bet they're wondering what other tricks we have up our sleeve."

  Castille collapsed her spyglass and tossed it to Dugan.

  "Isla, can you cover our retreat? I want to give their scouts trouble if they try to look for us."

  Isla’s eyes went wide like she’d been accused of a crime. She looked away and brushed loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

  "Y-yeah, I can try."

  I scowled at her. Her mannerisms would have been adorable if we weren’t in a life-or-death battle. With where we were going, we couldn’t afford to keep around dead weight. I eyed Castille. In her narrowed eyes, I saw the same calculation. This was Isla’s test—her first and last chance to prove she was useful.

  With her staff held close to her chest, she stepped in front of us. Isla raised it overhead, her arms trembling before she slammed it down on the grassy hill.

  A moment later, mist materialized on the hillside and rolled outward. The thick, white fog covered the road, the forest and the mercenaries collecting their wounded. It continued, spreading from the grasslands to the walls of the capital, silhouetted in the distance. Isla sagged against her staff, using it for support as she turned back to us.

  "I may have overdone it," she said, panting with each breath. There were dark circles under her eyes, like she missed a day of sleep.

  "Spirits below!"

  I stepped forward to stare at the sea of fog before us. The scale of this magic was the stuff of myth and legend, like an exaggerated feat from Peter Luskaine's War of Unification.

  "Isla. Who are you?" Castille asked.

  "A tired mage," Isla said, returning to her horse.

  The edge in Castille’s voice matched the daggers in the older woman's eyes. If Isla noticed the shift in tone, she didn’t react to it. Castille eyed the noblewoman as Dugan helped her back into her saddle.

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  "Another time."

  Castille huffed, swinging onto her black mare with practiced ease.

  "We'll ride hard until nightfall to get as much distance between them and us before making camp. Let’s go, people!"

  "Castille…"

  I searched the ground at my feet to find the right words.

  "Thank you for having my back."

  She scoffed.

  "Do you think you can get far in this business by selling out your allies?"

  I shook my head, my face flushing with embarrassment.

  "You made yourself an enemy of Rugar… Because of me…"

  "What of it? There are hundreds of men like Rugar, but only one Castille Ironside. Now, will you ride or stay here and enjoy the view?"

  She outstretched her hand, and I took it for the second time that day.

  # # #

  We rode hard for the rest of the day. As night fell, we made a sharp turn off the path to make camp at an old, abandoned watchtower. Luskaine was littered with the remnants of city-states and small kingdoms that rose after the fall of the Old Elven Empire. Many of these kingdoms didn't last a decade, being swallowed by their neighbours or falling apart internally due to civil wars or incompetent rulers. The watchtower was one such remnant, built for a ruler whose name was resigned to old, dusty tomes. Its fortifications and positioning made it an ideal camping spot for travellers wary of ambushes on the road. As we dismounted, I noticed their signs of use.

  "Will Rugar's men expect us to be here?" I asked.

  "Maybe. Maybe not. There one or two camping spots like this in the area, but I don’t think they’ll follow us," Castille said.

  "Why not?"

  She jerked her head at Isla, who almost collapsed when she dismounted her horse. Isla was still drained from her stunt in the morning. Her face was damp and sickly pale.

  "It's good to have such a powerful mage with us," I said.

  Castille huffed.

  "You don't like nobles, do you?"

  "Get off. We have to make camp."

  We made a fire inside the watchtower, using my spark wheel and timber stored in Thor's saddlebags. What wasn't that boar carrying? The watchtower was a squat two-storey building. The roof had collapsed, leaving stone bricks littering the ground floor. The second floor had rotten through, with only the wooden frame hanging above us.

  For dinner, we ate the rations from our supplies. Once we were farther along the journey, Castille and Dugan would hunt for wild game. After eating, Castille assigned us to watch duties. As the most inexperienced members, Isla and I would take the first watch together, while the veterans, including Thor, would take one watch each later that night.

  Castille and Dugan disappeared into their shared tent. Thor was fast asleep in front of it. That left Isla and me alone, sitting around the fire. I caught myself taking sidelong glances at the stranger. Her similarities to old, dead friends raised uncomfortable feelings I had walled away. I hated it. I hated her, but that wasn’t fair. How many people have judged me based on how I looked? On something as silly as the pointiness of my ears.

  I sighed. What would Sin do?

  My left hand touched the handle of my cane. It was simple. Isla was useful, and as long as she stayed useful, there was value in being friendly with her. The moment she stopped being useful... The moment she became a liability to me… I would-

  Kill what I love…

  "I didn't expect that," Isla said.

  I blinked, loosening my left hand’s death grip on the cane.

  “Didn’t expect what?" I asked, turning to face her.

  Our dinner had returned some colour to Isla’s face, but her eyes were still sunken from exhaustion.

  She pointed her chin across the dying fire to the veteran's tent, raising an eyebrow at the low moans escaping the canvas.

  "I didn't expect them to be together. Is that wrong of me?" She asked.

  "Oh…”

  Being raised a noble, the idea of casual sex outside of marriage was taboo. Now that I was Landbound, I understood why. Land was finite. Having more living blood relatives meant less magical potential to go around. Illegitimate children could spawn entire bloodlines to drain even the most powerful noble houses. But Castille and Dugan weren’t nobles. They were free to do what they wanted. No matter how uncomfortable it made us.

  "Should we tell them to keep it down?”

  She laughed in a low whisper.

  “I think that would be rude.”

  I smirked.

  Friendly? I could be friendly.

  She gave me a slight smile and went back to watching the fire’s embers.

  My mind grasped for another thread of conversation, finding the one topic I was trying to avoid.

  "I'm sorry for breaking your nose."

  She gave me an awkward smile.

  "It's alright. It's funny if you look at it a certain way."

  The conversation died.

  OK. Maybe not.

  Sighing, I turned to the dying fire, the embers reminding me of home.

  That might work.

  "Isla. Can you teach me how to be a mage?"

  Isla’s eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made me reach for my weapon.

  "No one's ever asked me that before."

  She grinned, crawling closer to me, hands and knees on the dirt floor. Her eyes, so much like Kirk's, bored into me, sizing me up and taking my measure.

  "What can you do?"

  "I-I don't know, I became Landbound yesterday."

  "Really?!"

  She crawled closer to me, her face inches from mine. I recoiled and turned away from her.

  "I-I can show you how to draw on your connection to the land. My teachers showed me how.”

  Her breath was hot in my ear.

  "OK! Fine."

  Anything to end this.

  "Close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice."

  I did as she instructed.

  "Empty your mind and tell me what you feel."

  I frowned.

  Feel?

  I had trained myself not to feel. To push away my pain along with everything else—the things I didn’t need.

  “Well, what do you feel?”

  I sighed.

  I may as well get this over with.

  "I feel you next to me… I feel the heat from the campfire… I feel… I feel…"

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