Alara sat on one of Lili’s cushion chairs, a mug of strong, dark cafi clenched in her hands. The bitter drink almost broke through the fog of her mind. The house was silent and still, not even a breeze interrupting the mournful reverie. Lili had left to care for the lesser wounded from the ambush, and Khuno and Quenti whispered softly to each other, their moving mouths the only indication that they were speaking. Micos sat next to Alara, eyes distant and face wan, a now-cold mug of cafi in his hands.

Though the bruyas had helped clean the mess in Lili’s home, a dark stain still marred the wood planks.

He was just another bruya. Just another bruya. Though no matter how much Alara tried to reminder herself that, she couldn’t wipe his soft features from her memory. His eyes had been a soft gray, his nose wide and flat, and his lips a pale pink. Alara shivered and took another sip of the lukewarm cafi in her mug.

“He died because of me, didn’t he?” Alara asked.

“No.” Micos’s eyes sharpened on her. “He died because of the councilguards.”

“They were looking for me. That’s the only reason they were out here.” She stared into the dregs of her mug, refusing to look into Micos’s pitying face.

The young bruya’s eyebrows were furrowed deep and his golden eyes shone softly in the fire burning. “So, who are you really?”

Alara’s shoulders tensed involuntarily. “I’m not a spy.”

“I have no doubts about that.” Micos’s lips twitched into a small smile.

“Your brother doesn’t agree.”

“Runeo can be an idiot. If you were a spy, you’d be a lot more…”

“Competent?”

“You said it, not me.”

Alara sipped her cafi again, shuddering at the bitter taste that lingered on her tongue. Micos’s eyes were gentle as he waited patiently.

“Linda Emaru—one of the Councilwomen—raised me. She’s practically my mother. We don’t share the same name, but I didn’t know if they would connect me to her. I was afraid of what Quil’la would think if she knew I was connected to the Council.”

Micos was silent for a while before he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “My parents died when I was a bruyita. I don’t really remember them anymore, just the stories Runeo tells me about them. We were raised by Wela, our dad’s mother.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“My father got lost during a hunting expedition in the mountains—my mother went after him, and she never returned.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I sometimes wonder if it will stop hurting. How can I miss someone that I can’t even picture? But sometimes when I think of them…”

“I don’t think it ever stops hurting.”

“I suppose not.” It was Micos’s turn to sip from his mug.

“Who was he?” Alara asked, her tone uncertain. “The bruya who died.”

“Puka—he was an airen and a hunter. He always claimed he killed a puma with his bare hands. I never did believe that.”

“Was he Zinita’s partner?”

Micos let out a subdued laugh. The sound startled Alara. “Oh, Sol no, just friends. They were practically siblings. Runeo and them were born under the same moon. Always together as kids.”

“I am sorry.”

Micos only nodded at this before setting a warm hand over her own. The room lapsed into silence, and Alara let her thoughts drift, her gaze settling on a sleeping Quenti, whose head lay on Khuno’s lap.

With a despondent sigh, Alara leaned against the wall, her eyes closing.

***

Khuno, Quenti, and Micos left in the late morning. There was to be a ceremony prior to the fallen bruya’s burial. They invited Alara, but she knew it was only out of politeness. No one wanted her there.

As they left, she saw two unknown guards outside the door. Their faces were set in a cold look of determination, though Alara didn’t even acknowledge them as she closed the wool curtain at the threshold of the house and retreated into the bedroom. The air was finally warming up for the day, filtered sunlight stretching across the wood plank floor. She looked around, summoning a false sense of conviction, though the exhaustion from the night before muddled her thoughts.

She went over to the windows and peered down at the branches that stretched out below. How high up were they? She cursed herself for closing her eyes on the ride up all those weeks ago.

Taking in the room around her, she noted the scattering of sheets and blankets, the skeins of wool and clothes. Even if she tied everything together and pretended it would hold her, there wouldn’t be enough material to get her down to the ground. Were there branches all the way down? Could she simply climb? She tried to imagine doing so in the dark of night and shuddered.

Maybe she was overreacting. If she just stayed in Lili’s home, silent and unassuming, Mena would be back soon. Alara could have her memory erased and be on her way home.

Deep down, she knew that was wishful thinking. The air had changed within Arbol, and no matter what Quil’la said, the young magite had overstayed her welcome. The only question now was how she would leave.

Alara lost track of how much time she spent staring out the window, scheming her way out of this impossible problem. So consumed was she by her thoughts, she almost missed the flame that danced in the air between her palms.

Startled, she waved her hands, and the flame disappeared with a small puff of white smoke. She looked around, trying to figure out when and how she had snatched the flame. The only fire here was in the kitchen. Alara shuddered at the thought. This place was driving her crazy, and now she was picking up flames without realizing it. She could have caught something on fire or burned herself. Unconsciously, she ran a hand along the ridged skin of her cheek where her scar still stood out.

A bang in the other room made Alara jump, and she turned just in time to see Quenti and Lili burst through the door.

“What…” Alara fell silent when she saw Lili shaking her head. The bruya whispered something to Quenti and ducked back out.

“You need to leave.”

Alara’s stomach lurched at Quenti’s sudden declaration. “Leave as in…?”

“Leave as in leave, stupid. You need to get out of Arbol. Today.”

“But… is Mena back?”

“You can’t wait for her. The bruyas talking. Zinita and others…” Quenti paused and gave an apologetic look. “They’re making plans to kill you. With or without Quil’la’s blessing.”

Alara stumbled back a few steps, her legs weak as the blood rushed from her extremities. The copper taste of fear bit at her tongue, and she dropped down onto the sleeping pad. “Oh.”

Just then, Quenti’s head perked up, and she left the room, leaving Alara’s mind whirling.

Moments later, Quenti and Lili ducked back in. Quenti’s tunic bulged in an unnatural shape, and Lili glanced around suspiciously. When the bruya’s eyes settled on the magite, she darted forward suddenly and wrapped Alara in a tight hug.

“Bye,” she whispered under her breath before letting go and hurrying from the house.

“What’s going on?”

“I told you. You’re leaving.” Quenti stepped farther into the room. With a grunt, she pulled out a long rope from under her tunic and it dropped onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“I might have stolen this from that bridge I was working on earlier. With all the chaos from the attack, I figure they won’t miss it. At least not right away.”

Alara’s eyes went wide, realizing the implication of what Quenti was saying.

“El’dyo,” Alara said. “You’re not saying I have to climb down.”

“You leave at dusk,” Quenti said, her typical dry tone absent. “When the community dinner starts, there won’t be many bruyas around. Lili’s house is near the edge of the city, anyway, and no one will see you climbing.”

“Climbing,” Alara repeated, eyes focused on the window.

“With help,” Quenti said, waving a hand at the rope that laid coiled in front of her.

“And if that’s not long enough to reach the ground?”

“What kind of attitude is that?” Quenti said with a grin… a grin that fell away seconds later. “Okay, I honestly don’t know if it is,” she admitted. They both sat in silence, staring at the rope.

Quenti finally looked up, a spark in her eye. “If I stay up here, I can untie it when you reach the end. You can then retie it and climb the rest of the way down. Hopefully, it’s at least long enough for that.”

Alara gave a slow nod, the million ways this could go wrong swirling in her head.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” Alara asked.

“Lili and Khuno are going to provide me with an alibi. I’ll be at dinner.” She winked. “You didn’t know you had friends in the enemy’s camp, did you?”

Alara knew it was a joke, but a warmth she hadn’t felt in a very long time spread throughout her chest.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do this.”