Alexia closed Calden’s eyes for the last time. His face was peaceful, but his body told the truth: an arrow through his lung, a nicked heart. He’d held on longer than anyone should’ve. But she still hadn’t made it in time.

  She crouched beside him. Her gut twisting, Alexia wondered how this happened. Had she missed a sound? Motion in the woods? Had her tactics failed as much as her senses? She’d expected an armed robbery, not an ambush. Her disguise as a highborn lady should’ve given them a reason not to shoot. She had been wrong. And Calden paid the price.

  He had believed in her, and she failed him.

  Timmeck. Barnett. Calden. How many more lives would be lost to her plans? Was she condemned to walk a road paved in sacrifices? Who would be next to pay the price?

  The rest of the caravan watched in mourning. All of their wounds were tended, at least the ones she could reach. Jonah the Younger wept, clutched by his father. Temos and Esrak leaned against the wagon, staring at the dirt. Bam had his back turned, his crying muffled.

  Alexia tried to do everything right, but it was never enough. She seized the arrow that had killed Calden and snapped it in half. She howled at the vicious midday sun, cursing the Divine Thirteen. Her head and chest felt heavy. She longed to sleep and wake up in a different world. Alexia gripped the broken arrow so tightly her hands ached. Like an arrow, my plans are nothing to the gods!

  When the wood refused to break further, she hurled the pieces away and stood. Alexia’s gaze fell on the lone surviving bandit.

  The last of their ambushers, the barrel-chested man that had cut into the Jonah’s and Bam with his axe, sat tied in the back of Calden’s wagon, stripped of weapons and dignity. In another life, she might’ve admired his ability to survive her lightning blast. In this life, she wanted him to suffer.

  Alexia felt the discomfort, itching at her skin. She’d had enough of it all. First, she’d get rid of this forsaken dress.

  She led Moonstrider into the trees, pressed her face into his mane, letting her grief spill into silent tears. The horse nudged her gently, allowing her to bottle up her vulnerability and don her mask.

  She shed the bloodstained maroon dress, washed herself in Dalis’s waters, ridding sweat, blood, and golden hair dye. Alexia channeled Seraxa’s heat, drying herself until she felt warmth all around. She donned her blue and silver robes. She tossed aside the pyrite rings and the dress, only keeping the amethyst necklace. Allison Eckhard was gone forever. Alexia was all that remained.

  Gripping Allison of Ferrickton’s doll, Alexia took a deep breath reminding herself that she needed to keep looking forward. She had a long way to go until there was peace, and she needed to walk this divinedamned road. The price she’d paid, the price Calden paid, was only an advance payment. She needed to keep moving for him.

  Returning to the caravan, she forced herself to stand tall, to wear the mask. “I am sorry for concealing myself from you.” Her gaze swept over the survivors. “I promised Archlord Pinarus I would eliminate the bandits. I’d hoped…” her voice caught in her throat, the mask slipping. She looked down. Her knees wobbled. She couldn’t maintain the fa?ade.

  Silence was their answer.

  “I endangered you. Calden is dead because of me.”

  Jonah the Elder sighed. “No. They’d ‘ave hit us anyway.”

  Jonah the Younger stepped forward. “You’re the only reason any of us are alive.”

  Alexia kept her eyes low. She couldn’t face their forgiveness when she couldn’t forgive herself. She was why one of them died and nearly all of them had been injured. It was her fault. She’d betted on herself, gambling with their lives. And she lost.

  “You saved us,” Bam said, “even me.”

  She looked to Temos, the boy who’d protected her when she failed to learn to doubt that people could still be good even when they’d done wrong. He nodded. “Lexagud,” he said the sounds coming out distorted.

  “He says, ‘you’re good,’” Esrak said. It had been the only time she’d heard him somber. “And he’s right.”

  She kept her head low, hiding the tears in her eyes. She was tired of crying, tired of people believing in her, of needing to walk this road. She wished she could be like them, someone who could put her faith that somebody else would watch out for her. She didn’t want to be a hero anymore, didn’t want all this unearned love.

  So be the monster, she thought, fixing her glare on the bandit.

  Jonah the Elder had spared no mercy in restraining the man who’d gashed his gut and tried to kill his son. Stripped down to nothing and tied like a hog prepared for the roast pit. The sight horrified her so much that she didn’t want to look at him.

  Making fists, she forced herself to think of him swinging that axe at the caravan, cutting them down one-by-one. She’d show him that she was no divinedamned hero. She’d be the girl that killed the guards at the gates of Maypine, the wizard that slaughtered the Ferrickton guards. She’d be a monster.

  The man struggled against his bindings, grunting and twisting as he contorted himself. No amount of frantic wriggling would save him. He arched his neck, set his vicious eyes on her. “Bloody get on with it then, bitch.”

  Despite his rough demeanor, his foul language, and the contempt, there was a sophistication to the bandit’s speech. It didn’t matter. The only language he’d speak in soon was pain.

  “Your answers are the difference between death… and a painful death.”

  The bandit thrusted out his hips, his flaccid member flopping. “Choke on my cock, wench!”

  “I’ll kill ye!” Jonah the Elder rasped. Several other members of the caravan mobilized in assent, charging the wagon.

  Alexia raised a hand, stopping them. “Your name?”

  “Meladon.”

  “Heathen!” Jonah the Elder rasped, brandishing his weapon. Strong-as-a-bull Temos held Jonah back, but whether that was for the prisoner’s sake or because he wanted to be the one to brutalize the beast of a man was anyone’s guess.

  Alexia glared at the caravan. The anger she felt at the bandit was displaced onto them. “He’s mine!” She waved her arm to the side. “Leave us.”

  At that, Jonah finally flashed some bitterness her way. He slackened in Temos’s restraint and led his group to the back of the caravan.

  “Want me all to yourself?” the bandit said, thrusting again. “I’ll give it to you better than any of those weaklings would. I’ll show you what it’s like to be with a real man.”

  “I’ll burn you slowly,” Alexia said, trying to be menacing. “Stopping just before you die to quench the flames. Then I’ll make you so cold you’ll beg for the heat again. We will go back and forth, until you tell me everything.”

  The bandit grinned, flashing his teeth. “You and I both know you won’t do that, Savior. You’re more likely to unbind me, watch as I kill them all, lie down as I rape you, drag you back to camp, and rape you some more.” A few deep belly laughs escaped, shattering her confidence.

  She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t stare down and threaten a man. She looked away.

  “You can’t even look at how they’ve tied me, Savior. Quit the charade. Unbind me and let’s be done here, you innocent little girl.”

  “I will kill you,” she said, forcing herself to look at him, trying to snarl. “I swear to Zamael that I will.”

  He laughed. “No. You won’t.” He stretched toward her, straining against the restraints. “But I will kill you.”

  “Where is your camp?”

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  “Let me out. I’ll take you there.” He winked and kissed the air.

  Alexia imagined an ice spear driven through his cold heart. She pulled on Qoryxa’s divine energy, channeling what little cold there was on a day like today. The air grew swelteringly hot, like standing beside a huge bonfire. “Tell me.”

  He shook his head. “Going to have to kill me or let me out. Go on, show me how mean the Savior of Tenacity is. I’m waiting.”

  Alexia held Qoryxa’s judgment, the focus formed in her mind. She wanted to hurt him, wanted to show the world that she wasn’t some hero. Yet, she couldn’t release it. Not even on this vile man. She saw Barnett’s face dashing toward the collapsing ceiling, saw Allison crying outside the stables, saw dozens of men burning alive in their suits of armor. This man was a monster. Yet she couldn’t render judgment without judging herself.

  “Why did you become a bandit?” Alexia asked, shivering. Qoryxa’s cold essence overflowed from Aurora and into her body. She would make her judgment soon, but even Qoryxa would give proper trial and weigh his actions on her scales.

  He lowered his eyes. “For women.” He strained his neck until his eyes met Alexia’s. A grin spread slowly across his face. “I do so look forward to raping you.”

  Esrak emerged from behind the next wagon with his spear. “Lemme fill his arsehole!”

  Bam flourished his sword, jumping out beside Esrak. “Lemme cut off his member and feed it to ‘im. BAM!”

  The bandit kept his eyes locked on Alexia. “I’d rip your father limb from limb and beat your mother to death with him after I finished with her. I’d dig up your grandsire’s grave and piss and shit in it after I finished fucking you bloody atop him.”

  Alexia held onto Qoryxa, shivering as she struggled to release the spear of ice that’d silence this monster. Her stomach twisted, blasted by a wave of nausea. KILL HIM! She gripped at her stomach.

  The bandit laughed. “You lack the stomach, softhearted cunt. Give these boys the opportunity to redeem themselves against me. I promise I shan’t be too rough on them. Better to die quick than live as worthless halfwits.”

  Jonah the Elder rumbled toward the wagon, axe drawn. Temos wasn’t stopping him this time.

  Alexia released the cold. She couldn’t do it herself. Let someone else end his life. Why not Jonah? She watched the bandit’s expression as the angleglass on his life neared the final grain. What she saw defied her expectations. The bandit’s hostile face fell into a peaceful embrace of the moment. He exhaled one last breath, closing his eyes.

  In a whirlwind of emotion, Alexia grabbed at the first focus she could find. A small wind wall formed, blowing Jonah back just before he could release the deathblow.

  “Finish it!” the bandit bellowed.

  Something in Alexia snapped into place. This man wanted to be hated. He wanted to die. She had gone through the same emotions and developed the same desires. Zamael’s Hells! She had wanted the caravan to blame and hate her mere degrees ago! She still did! She understood, even if she didn’t understand why.

  Jonah stood up. “Why?” he demanded.

  Alexia stepped onto the wagon with one foot, leaning close to the bandit. “Self-hatred becomes easier to bear when others hate you too.” The man’s eyes widened before he masked it with a hateful snarl. She knew that shift. Even moments ago, she’d tried donning the stoic mask of the Second Great Wizard.

  “We keep fighting for survival but sometimes the price of our survival is so high, the guilt so heavy, that you just want your victims to finish you off.”

  The snarl faltered, the bandit’s lips trembling.

  “Yet, they never do. The guilt builds and builds until it is all you can think about and all you can do is keep running from it, letting it gain strength with each foul act you commit.”

  “Kill me,” he whispered. “Or I’ll kill you.”

  Alexia shook her head. “You didn’t run with the others because you saw me as the one who would finally kill you and end your running. You didn’t charge for me, who was the truest threat. Instead, you placed yourself in my path and antagonized me. You are a skilled warrior, probably a knight or a knight’s squire before deserting, and yet you avoided dealing deathblows, knowing that I could heal them if you kept them alive for me.”

  Alexia leaned in closer. “This was the time, when finally, your guilt would be answered. I would be your reaper, but you were the architect of your demise.”

  Alexia stood up tall, confident. “Yet, you were too strong to die. Even the Second Great Wizard couldn’t end your suffering with a blast of Balbaraq’s divine vengeance. The Divines continue to deny you death even after endless atrocities are committed. You wonder why can’t you just die?”

  The bandit went limp.

  “Your name?” Alexia asked.

  “You’ve already taken everything else.” He swallowed and choked on his own emotion. “As long as I keep my name, nothing of me shall remain.” His misted eyes gazed up at Alexia. “End me.”

  Alexia ignored his pleas. All traces of self-consciousness dissipated and she felt a fish returned to water after spending years suffocating on land. Alexia fused with the moment, becoming one with the process of understanding another. At this point, the caravan was watching with expressions ranging from stunned to stupefied. She continued swimming. “You hate that you’ve attacked people like them. You hate that you’re not punishing the people that hurt you, but rather honest folks like who you used to be. You hate that you’ve been unable to stop the other bandits. You hate that, even now, you resist telling me where your camp is.”

  “Kill me!”

  “There has been no joy in banditry for you.” Alexia shook her head. “No pride.”

  “KILL ME!”

  “You believe you deserve that fate, don’t you?”

  “YES!”

  “You cannot see any light or love in your future, only more darkness and death.”

  The man resisted in his binds. “KILL ME!”

  “That is where you are wrong.”

  As a new plan formed, she warned herself. Don’t be innocent. Don’t believe that monsters can be good again. Not again.

  “Kill me,” the man whispered. “I have earned whatever torment Zamael has planned for me.”

  Alexia took out Allison’s doll and placed it on the wagon. “A sweet little girl made this for me the day I killed her father. I stole into their town that night and sabotaged their life’s work. I fought desperately for my survival, and I lost my way.”

  The man snorted derisively. “You think we’re the same? What you have done for one night, I have done for years!”

  “You are right,” Alexia said, taking back the doll and placing it in her robe. “We are not the same.”

  Alexia beckoned for Jonah the Younger to give her his handaxe. He offered it with a nod. Alexia held it in both hands, feeling its weight, then she gripped it and drove it into a log on the wagon. She struggled to pull it back out but was satisfied with herself.

  “What is your name?” Alexia asked once more. “You give me that and I promise I will cut you down.”

  “Erlos,” the naked, hog-tied, barrel-chested man replied, wincing as he spoke the name. Alexia had no doubts about the weight of his shame that he believed she would memorialize with his name.

  “We are not the same, Erlos,” Alexia repeated, holding the handaxe. “You believe you have earned your death. You believe that there is no price you can pay that will cover the debt you have accrued these last few years.”

  “I cannot be redeemed,” Erlos confessed.

  “Ye got that right!” Jonah the Elder howled. His crew all assented.

  “Jonah,” Alexia called, “just angles ago, Calden disclosed what he did in the war. He held the sword while children watched their fathers slaughtered and their mothers raped. Was your brother beyond redemption when he forged this caravan? This family? Was he beyond redemption when he treated outcasts and orphans as sons and gave them a home? Was he too far gone when he held that sword? Were you?”

  Jonah sputtered, looking like a rabid beaver. “It’s not the same. We did what we had to—”

  “To survive,” Alexia finished, stealing his excuses from him. “To follow orders.”

  Alexia felt the crushing weight of those words. “That is the same story I tell myself about what I did to Allison of Ferrickton. To the Ruby soldiers in Vulcan and Mirrevar. To your brother!”

  Don’t be innocent, Alexia, she reminded herself. Alexia looked at Erlos and she saw Maleon in her mind. She didn’t know whether she could save him and she knew trying would be dangerous. She knew which path before her was safer and which was the path of Leverith. The path of Leverith wasn’t always easy to stay upon, but it was always right.

  “I render my judgment, Erlos. I sentence you—” Alexia declared, raising the handaxe above her shoulder. She cut down twice, severing his binds, and Erlos fell hard to the wagon. “—to redemption.”

  Erlos watched the caravan cautiously as he scanned their stupefied expressions. “Why?”

  Esrak echoed him, “Why?” Jonah the Elder gripped his axe and Temos drew his.

  “You don’t deserve an easy death, Erlos,” Alexia said. “The Divine Thirteen have spared you this long because you deserve a hard life. A life where you no longer run from your guilt but charge into it fighting with every fiber of your being, for every moment of the rest of your life. For redemption.”

  Alexia lifted Aurora in her right hand as she carried young Jonah’s axe in her left. She called upon Leverith’s spirit and looked forward to a future where she and Erlos struggled together for their redemption. She unleashed a blast of blue light and healed the blackened part of Erlos’s chest where her lightning had struck, she healed away the marks and the soreness caused by his binding, and she dreamt of healing away the hopelessness and hatred in his heart. The nausea she had felt the past several degrees dissipated.

  She spoke as her magic restored his body. “I will walk the road to redemption with you, Erlos. I will be your guide just as Leverith is mine. I will shine her light on our path. Yet, you must choose to walk it with me. My love—Leverith’s love—isn’t enough alone. You need to have the strength to banish Zamael from your soul. You need to take the first step. What will you choose, Erlos? Will you choose Zamael or will you choose Leverith?”

  Then, amidst a tumult of exclamations, she handed Erlos the handaxe. Erlos held it, turning it over for dozens of turns as he turned his mind around the weight of his decision. Alexia struggled to hold onto Leverith and not attune a more defensive divine energy. She placed her faith in this man, and found peace in her decision. She was not innocent. She knew that he might turn that axe against her and then she would fight for her life. She chose the path of Leverith, not because she knew it was perfect and would always triumph, but because it was the path that allowed her to believe the best in everyone, but most of all because it allowed her to believe in herself.

  Her faith was rewarded when Erlos dropped the axe onto the cart bed.

  “I will walk with you, Alexia, with one condition…”

  Even as the caravan crew cried out against her decision, Alexia nodded. “Name it.”

  “You will offer the same choice to all of my surviving brothers. All except one,” he amended.

  Alexia grew nervous. She couldn’t truly trust Erlos let alone his entire crew. “If I refuse?”

  He pointed to the handaxe. His voice was hoarse. “I will die right now and you will never find them.”

  Nervousness swelled and fluttered within her. Calden’s Caravan pleaded for her to let the bandit die and that made this decision ever harder. She looked at Calden’s corpse and reminded herself of the price that was paid and the price yet to be paid. She looked forward and saw not one man on the path to redemption but a whole band of brothers, the Redeemed Men, determined to pay the price by living a hard life.

  She reached out her hand and Erlos took it, gently. “Very well. All who join our path shall become Redeemed Men.”