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“They’ll be requiring only a bath today, and I promised a nice meal. The boy will sleep outside.”

“I’d very much appreciate it,” Lily reiterated, keeping her shit together with a smile. “We won’t take up your time longer than needed.”

Mia’s lips closed, and she found Lily again—eyes a shrewd green. “I’ll get the spare clothes.” She grimaced at the ground. “And shoes.”

They were led up a set of creaking stairs to a bathroom with a tub that spewed only cold water. While Lily guarded the door for Luka to bathe, she picked through the clothing Mia brought, fishing out what she thought might fit her from a clutter of mostly red garments. Sterling convinced Lily he was capable of watching Luka while she bathed, and just like that, she was left totally alone for the first time in weeks and without Luka in almost a year. She savored the quiet even if it left her mind reeling.

After gritting her teeth through a freezing shower, she spent far too long sitting naked on the edge of the tub, staring at the pile of clothes.

Lily resolved to be an Imordial two weeks ago when Draven trapped her in the fishing cabin, but now it felt like it was all one of his illusions. How could she go down there and act like she had any authority at all when she didn’t believe it herself? When she struggled to accept the Flare that gave her the title?

She chuckled. I could put on a different face. But which one? The poor girl they gave a chance and a home? The one who abandoned them? Smuggler, kidnapper, and Stalker killer? Lily folded over her legs and groaned. Surely they resented her no matter who she was or had become. Why bother hiding anything?

A strand of her gray hair fell into her vision, nearly dry from how long she sat there.

Her half Evelian blood was what made her an Imordial. Nothing else. She shouldn’t have to beg for a sliver of respect simply because she was born with it.

She pushed off of the tub, snagging a flowing, wine-red dress with a subtle heart-shaped neckline. Its long, lacey sleeves clung tight against the length of her arms, held in place by a high collar around her neck. She finished by tying a pair of black calf high boots over waist high black tights.

Working the knots from her hair with her fingers, she paced the cramped room until she was satisfied. She grabbed the door handle, then froze, feeling the cool metal against her skin.

She looked over her shoulder, seeing her dirty gloves strewn across the countertop.

Lily never turned back for them.

Sterling spent the rest of their afternoon walking her around the camp and introducing her to its various members. Lily kept her hands pressed firmly behind her back and nodded politely through each exchange, though she wondered if an Evelian would be less cordial.

“And this is where you’ll be sleeping,” Sterling said, pulling back the front of a tent so spacious it rivaled that of their cabin in Acadia. All the while, Luka pulled at her sleeve and tapped his fingers on her arm, full of inquiries she couldn’t yet answer.

But when Sterling stopped in front of a tent on the far end of the clearing, Luka left Lily’s hip for the first time in hours. Sterling placed a few fingers against his forehead, then flicked them off, seemingly greeting a soldier sitting on a cut log.

The man—a huge man—looked to Sterling and him alone, repeating the motion and then returning to the dagger in his lap. Large, curved, and made of a bone almost as hard as ghostsoil. A scar crossed over his face down his cheek to his neck, light against his dark brown skin, and his eyes cast a rusty glow behind his pupils.

“This is Silas,” Sterling said. “He doesn’t say much.”

Silas didn’t bother a glare, shooting back some gesture Sterling guffawed at, and Luka smiled despite not understanding any of it. He peeked out from behind Lily and waved a hand. Silas glanced at him once, then back.

“Well. I think that does it,” Sterling announced. “Come along, soldier. You are desperately needed.”

Silas’ limbs went heavy before rolling his head as he stood. He was tall enough that Lily had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. He was clad in light Rogian armor, made of a rich reddish-brown leather that covered him from the neck down, except for his right arm that bore only a metal pauldron. He followed them back to the lodge until Sterling instructed Silas to stay with Luka for company. Lily’s chest filled with protest, but Sterling kept her silent with a finger.

“We’re starting this little exchange without your kid.” Sterling thrust a thumb behind him. “Silas has him, don’t you?”

The Rogian responded with nothing other than a look of pure reproach.

Inside the lodge’s wide dining room, traces of their morning meal hung in the air mixed with the warm notes of fresh pastries dusted with so much spice it turned her stomach. Lily perched herself on the side of a torn armchair in the corner of the room while Sterling and Mia chatted, hoping to look more intimidating than she felt.

Draven’s cloud of humidity signaled his arrival. When he stepped through the dilapidated doorway, a thin film of shadows seeped into his skin. Mia shot him a glower much like the one she’d given Luka. He simply smiled, then stepped out of her line of sight, heading for the table. Lily turned her attention to silhouettes of the soldiers moving from between the gaps in the boarded-up window.

“Red’s an interesting choice.”

Lily’s gaze shifted back to the center of the room, finding Draven plucking a few desserts from the platter.

My options were limited. She squared her shoulders. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s custom for Imordials to represent their Flare in their clothing, at least as an accent.” Draven flicked her a quick glance. “And it’s a terrible color.”

Lily took her time assessing his appearance in return. He wore a heavy brown leather jacket over straight-legged, black pants and scuffed black boots. The clean collar of a white button-down peeked above his coat, and higher than that, his dark hair curved over his head, straight and smooth—evidence he too had bathed within the last few hours.