It took a few seconds for Alara to realize the lift had stopped. Her knuckles gripped white against the railing and her arms ached with tension. She could see amusement playing on Micos’s face as he gently guided her off the lift. The young bruya gave her a smile. It seemed genuine, but it made her chest tighten.

“You get used to it,” he said. “The first time I took it down as a bruyita, I almost peed myself.”

Alara didn’t know what to say—or if she even wanted to respond. Before she could decide, Runeo was next to them, roughly grabbing her arm.

“Hurry up, mage.”

The tone should have annoyed Alara, but she was too captivated by the surrounding sights to notice. They made their way through the treetops, walking along wood planks tightly pieced together and somehow balanced on the tree branches. Under normal circumstances, she would have been terrified, but given how tightly the planks were packed together, it offered no opportunity to see the dizzying fall below. Besides that, there was plenty to see above the planks to keep her eyes occupied.

The city was a maze of bridges and stairways, stretching as far as she could see. While it made for quite a sight, Alara hadn’t the faintest idea how the bruyas didn’t get lost. Each tree looked the same, but everyone around her seemed to know where they were going. She wondered if this was how Quenti felt when she was first brought into the Haven.

Hundreds of bruyas milled about the city, some walking fast with a purpose and others taking their time, chatting in groups. Laughter rang out across the treetops. Two young children darting between legs and across a rope bridge caught Alara’s attention, seemingly unaware of the fall that awaited them if they stepped the wrong way or lost their balance.

The bruyas gave Alara’s group a wide berth as they passed, but a few more curious souls followed behind their train, necks craning to see where she was headed, arms still tied behind her. She lifted her chin and kept her gaze fixed above the bruya’s heads. Her stomach roiled with an emotion somewhere between hate and fear as she tried not to make eye contact with anyone in the village.

They walked, weaving their way from platform to platform, crossing the village—or perhaps Runeo had only taken them in a few circles. Alara truly couldn’t tell. But they finally made it to the front of a large wooden hut. It was larger than any of the other buildings Alara had seen. Balanced between five separate trees, the round structure sat along a large platform stretched between the trunks. Smoke ribboned from its top, where the thatched ceiling gaped at the center. Intricately weaved curtains hung in the doorway and a small boy leaned against the frame, looking bored. Until he saw them.

“Runeo!” The boy straightened immediately. “I’ll let them know you’re here.”

Runeo simply nodded as the kid darted into the building. Less than a minute later the curtains parted, and Alara was ushered into the room, Runeo’s grip still tight on her arm.

Inside, the air was hot and thick. A fire crackled in the center of the room, though the light was dim, with only a few slivers of sunlight stretched across the floor, the torches and fire at the center fighting against the inherent darkness. It took just a few seconds for Alara to realize just how much fire was contained within the wooden—purely wooden—building. Her heart lurched, and she stumbled a bit before catching herself. Runeo had let go of her arm and pushed her forward. She took a few steps, edging away from the minor inferno that crackled in the center.

When she looked up, she saw three pairs of eyes trained on her. One of them—an older man with nearly white hair and a deeply creased face—moved his hand to rest on the hilt of the dagger that was tucked in his belt.

“Runeo, what is in the world is going on?” The woman’s voice was warm and her eyes wide and dark. She sat beside the older man, holding an air of power about her. She was obviously older than Alara, but her skin was still smooth and the magite wondered just how much older she could be. The woman’s hair was dark black and tightly coiled, falling in thick spirals around her face. Beside her, on her left, was a third man, likely closer to Emaru’s age, based on the graying of his hair and the soft lines of his face.

“Why is Quenti tied up?” the woman asked.

Runeo gave a small bow of his head and acknowledged her. “Quil’la.” He then jerked his head toward Quenti, who Alara could see paling beside Khuno. “That’s Quenti. This one is a magite from the Haven who tagged along with her.”

Quil’la stood up and Alara felt her body go rigid, bracing for a blow or a fight. But the woman’s eyes slipped away from her without a second glance. She walked past Runeo and Alara before stopping in front of Quenti. Gently, the woman took the girl’s face in her hands, the copper rings along her fingers glinting in the firelight.

“Of course it’s you.” She gazed into Quenti’s eyes, smiling. A thin finger swiped gently across the girl’s face, brushing back a loose strand of hair. “You look just like your mama, don’t you?”

Quil'la turned back to face Alara, and the magite was once again aware of how many eyes watched her.

The woman stepped toward her, head tilted and eyes narrow. It was almost as if she was trying to place her—as if she might recognize her—and Alara’s heart jumped at the thought of what it would mean if a bruya did, in fact, recognize her. But the woman only gave Alara a level look.

“You are?”

“Alara.” Her voice almost cracked, and she felt her cheeks redden. Clearing her throat, she tilted her chin up and repeated her name again, clearer.

“Alara…? Do you have a family name?”

“Leon,” she finally said, giving Adelmo’s family name. She was certain they couldn’t tie her back to the Council with his name.

Quil'la didn’t respond for a moment, her black eyes studying Alara’s face. But finally she nodded. “And how did you end up here with Quenti, Alara Leon?”

“I—” Alara shot a look at Quenti. The anger that had finally started to thaw was returning. What right did any of them have to be angry? She didn’t exactly come here willingly.

Quenti cut in, perhaps seeing the thoughts racing across Alara’s face. “I sort of—I mean, I accidentally…” Quenti paused again, as all eyes in the room swiveled on her. “The councilguards were threatening me and I didn’t really think, and I grabbed her. And well, once we were out in the wilderness, I couldn’t very well leave her alone. She’s kind of useless by herself.”

Alara opened her mouth to protest this last comment, but one of the older men that had been sitting beside Quil'la stood up sharply. He was taller than Quil'la by almost a foot and towered over the others.

“And how had those councilguards found you in the first place?” he said.

Quenti glanced at Alara. “I don’t know how they found me.”

Alara started at this, realizing that Quenti most definitely knew how the councilguards had found her. She was protecting Alara, even to her own detriment. If she didn’t know how they found her, then who’s to say they couldn’t have followed her again?

The bruyas spoke all at once, a ripple of anxiety permeating the room. Alara felt like she could sink into the background, forgotten. She felt herself step back, and then a hand fell on her shoulder. It wasn’t rough, but she bristled all the same. Where in El’dyo’s name did they think would she go all tied up like this?

“Look.” Alara cut in. Her voice was sharp and more confident than she felt. “I just want to get back to the Haven. I don’t care that Quenti escape—left the Haven. And I’m glad she’s safe. If I can just get some supplies and a point in the right direction, I’ll be on my way.”

The room fell silent and Alara was once again the center of attention. Quil’la’s eyes were almost sad as they turned to Alara, but she could feel the anger and hate thrumming in the surrounding air from the others in the room.

“We’ve kept our city safe for a good many decades by keeping our secrets hidden.”

“I promise I won’t say anything. I don’t even know where we are or how to find you again. I just want to go home.” Alara winced internally at the desperation that was clear in her voice. Emaru would have shamed her for groveling to these bruyas.

The eldest man, who had been sitting beside Quil'la, his hand still resting on his blade, stood up. His face creased with a sneer, his hand tightening on the hilt of his blade as he stepped forward toward Alara.

“We can’t trust this magite. There is nothing to stop her from coming back here in a month’s time with a legion of councilguards.”

Alara tried not to show the fear in her face as the venom in his voice cut into her. Her heart beat firm and fast in her chest, and she could taste the copper of fear on her tongue, but she kept her face level and sent a silent prayer to El’dyo.

“I swear, I just want to get home. I promise I won’t tell the Council anything.” Alara’s voice seemed to almost fade by the end of her sentence. She knew the words were a lie as they left her lips—everyone in the room knew it too, and she saw her chance of making it out of this alive fading with her words.

“Can we wipe her memories?” The voice was soft and Alara turned to see Khuno standing next to a pale Quenti, a gentle hand on her arm. “Send her home… without being able to find us again.” She lowered her voice. “If we keep her here against her will or kill her, we’re no better than them.”

The room exploded once again, everyone talking all at once.

Alara was looking at Quil'la, who she suspected was the leader of these bruyas. The woman looked tired at Khuno's proposition. Her skin was smooth and hair a rich brown, and yet in that moment Alara realized she was likely older than she looked. She seemed to feel it, at least. After a few minutes, she raised her hand silently and the chorus of voices dropped away.

“Mena is the only one with abilities strong enough for a wipe like that, and she’s at least a month away from returning from her mission. We’d have to send out word to the other outcrops to see if anyone has a mind-walker to spare. But that will likely take just as long as waiting for her and Beno to return.

“That being said, it is the most ideal solution to our problem.” Quil'la turned to Alara, looking at her with those intense black eyes. “So long as this Alara Leon stays here with us until such a time that the twins return. And if you are here with us, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to make you comfortable.” Without breaking eye contact with her, the older woman motioned to the young, lanky guard still standing behind Alara. “Micos, can you go tell Lili she’s going to have two new guests? And Runeo, will you be so kind as to check for any weapons before untying our guest?”

His jaw tightened, and he gave a grunt as he moved toward Alara. “Yes, senya.”

Alara tried not to show her relief as the rope around her wrists loosened and fell away. Runeo haphazardly searched her bag before handing it back to her. She stroked her fingers across the raw skin of her wrists and forced herself to stand up straighter as Quil’la’s gaze fell back to her.

“To be clear,” Quil’la said, “you may not be a prisoner, but you’re not a free guest either. Do not try our patience and we will get along just fine. When our mind-walker returns, you will be on your way and we can all go back to our separate lives.”

Alara felt like she was in a daze as the bruyas moved around her. She could make out parts of the conversation Quil'la was having with Runeo and Khuno, their eyes darting back to her every few words. Then Quenti was there beside her, a soft, warm hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to cause so much trouble.”

Alara wanted to be angry, wanted to brush Quenti’s hand off of her and scream at her for dragging her into this. But she was tired, and Quenti was the only familiar face in the sea of dark-eyed bruyas. So she only nodded and let Quenti’s hand continue to rest on her shoulder.

A few moments later, Quil'la was standing in front of them both again. “Khuno will escort you to Lili’s house, where you’ll be staying. She can help settle you in, and Khuno will be around tomorrow to give you a tour of the city. Go rest—you’ve both had a long few days.”

Alara let herself be steered toward the door, Quenti following behind Khuno. As they exited, the wool curtain pulled back by an outside guard, Alara heard her name behind her and saw Quil'la still standing in the center of the room, staring at them as they left.

“Alara Leon, if Quenti vouches for you, then I will trust that. But know that my trust is quite fragile.”

The curtain dropped, and the black-eyed woman disappeared behind it, her face grim.