I drift to sleep, entering the same dark emptiness I'm accustomed to, yet something is different. I'm not alone. She's here with me, her aura quickly chasing the darkness away. It's not possible. Soulless do not dream, yet here she is. A gentle breeze plays with her auburn hair, bringing her sweet scent to me. I suddenly double over, my insides writhing with a familiar hunger. No . . .

Control is no longer mine. Growling, I fly forward, grabbing her with both hands. She makes no sound; she doesn't react at all. She simply looks at me, our eyes locking together as if she's been expecting this moment. I think we both have. One of my hands moves up, hovering above her face. The light of her soul is brightest in her eyes. I must have it. It's my true nature. The decades I spent resisting have been futile.

“Forgive me,” I whisper as I lower my hand.

I manage to stop myself from crying out as I bolt upright in my bed, my face stricken with horror and grief. I know what I saw was not real, but the frightening reality is that it could be. It's a warning. I've deluded myself into thinking she is safe with me—that I can protect her from monsters. But who will protect her from me? I should go to her room and say my goodbyes right now.

I can't. I'm too weak to be without her.

I head to the stable, my mind in turmoil, and immediately go to Henrietta's stall. The mare whickers a greeting and then, as if sensing my mood, touches my arm with her nose. “I don't know what to do, Hetty,” I say, bringing a brush to her flank. I tell her about the dream, shuddering as the images replay in my mind. The mare nudges my arm sympathetically, though I can't imagine she understood half of what I said.

“Cress, are you here?”

It's Arem. I go out to meet the boy, who is accompanied by an older man dressed for travel. Arem looks glum.

“This is my father,” the boy says. “He needs a horse.”

The man steps forward, offering his hand. “I'm Gars. I have a wagon of produce ready to take south to Tiffly, but my own horse is not up to the journey.”

I frown. Jemson has yet to tell me how much to charge to rent out a horse. I don't even know where the stableman is. I head over to the stall of a chestnut mare and open the gate. “She's strong and reliable. You can pay when you return.”

Gars seems surprised by my generous offer. “Are you certain? I've come with some Silvers—”

“I insist.”

I help him hitch the mare to his wagon and watch him ride off. Arem kicks at the dirt.

“I thought I'd get to go with him this time,” he mutters, “but he said maybe next year.”

This explains his sour expression. “Your father must trust you a great deal to leave you behind.”

Arem looks up at me questioningly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, with him gone, you're in charge of watching over your family. That's a big responsibility.”

The idea seems to appeal to him. “Yeah. I have to make sure they're safe.”

“Come on,” I say, “you can help me bring in the hay.”

We work through the morning until Arem decides he'd better check on his family now that he's the man of the house. He skips out of the stable, his spirits lifted.

As noon approaches, I can't help but wonder if Syndel will come again. I've put the dream out of my mind for now, hoping it's just a manifestation of my anxieties rather than an omen of what's to come.

Her aura approaches and my heart soars. She enters the stable, another basket of food in hand. “Ready for lunch?” she asks.

We sit at the barrel as we did yesterday. She divides the portions; I watch every move she makes. “How is your arm?” I ask, seeing a fresh bandage.

“It's healing well,” she says. “Swen puts a salve on it that smells terrible, but it's like magic.”

“Have you been able to remember anything else about how you came to be here?” I almost don't want her to.

“No,” she says, her gaze fixed on the bread in her hand, while the other hand absentmindedly touches a thin gold chain around her neck, something I hadn't noticed until now. “All I know is I was running from something. Much like you, I suppose.”

I want to assure her that I won't let any harm come to her, but I keep the words to myself. “How long do you plan to stay in Nikom?”

She shrugs. “I don't have anywhere else to go.”

“What about your family?”

A smile tugs at her lips. “You're full of questions today. Truth is, I have no family. I'm quite alone.”

Another thing we have in common. “I hope you don't feel completely alone,” I blurt out. I quickly look away, not wanting her to see the fervor in my eyes.

“You're right. Swen is a dear and Hermis is kind in his own way. And I have you, of course. Who knows where I'd be now if you hadn't found me.”

I think my heart stops for the briefest of moments. She does have me, until I must flee for my life. The thought is torture. I suddenly leap to my feet. “Would you like to go for a ride?”

Joy beams in her eyes. “I would love to.”

We saddle two horses, including Hetty, and lead them out of the stable. My hasty invitation seems less than ideal when I realize I don't know how to ride. I watch Syndel out of the corner of my eye to see how she mounts and mimic her as best as I can, losing my balance for only an instant. I lean forward and pat Hetty's neck. “Help me to not fall off,” I whisper, “I beg of you.”

The mare swings her head back to look at me, her eyes reproachful, as if telling me falling would be my own fault.

Syndel and her cream-colored gelding move beside us. “Where to?”

“Out of town,” I say. “There's a stream near the forest with a waterfall. I think you might like it.”

She smiles. “Lead the way.”

I do my best to hide my inexperience as I urge Hetty forward. Syndel keeps up easily. We pass through the open gate and head toward the expanse of trees to the east. More clouds have found their way north, providing me relief from the sun. I shut my eyes for a moment, focusing on the rhythm of my mare's trot and the air moving against my face. Riding is wonderful.

The stream comes into view, winding its way out of the forest, making a path for itself farther north. We follow it as it turns toward the base of the nearest mountain range, hugging the rock wall until it suddenly drops out of sight. The waterfall is not grand in size, but its simplicity has a beauty of its own.

I slide down from the saddle and tie the reins to a low branch. Syndel does the same. “The horses won't be able to make it to the bottom of the falls,” I say. “We'll have to go on foot.”

We pick our way over the rocks, descending slowly. Syndel fares well over the rough terrain until a large gap impedes our progress. I can jump the gap easily, but Syndel cannot.

“Should we turn back?” she asks, looking disappointed.

I'm not ready to give up. I'm strong and fast enough to get us both across. I square my shoulders. “Do you trust me?”

She blinks at me for a moment and then nods.

My heart swells with pleasure at her response. I whisk her into my arms, remembering how light she is. She seems to guess my plan. Her arms tighten around my neck and she buries her face against me. I'm certain she can hear my racing heart. Taking a few steps back, I dash forward and fly over the gap, landing lightly on the other side. Syndel doesn't release her hold right away. She peeks down at the solid rock beneath us before raising her eyes to mine. Our faces are close enough for me to count the freckles on her flushed cheeks.

I could hold her forever.

Coming to my senses, I set her down on her feet and take a step away. “It's not much farther,” I say, resuming the descent.

We reach the bottom where a pool surrounded by mossy rocks and tall reeds collects the falling stream. From above, the stream itself is narrow, yet deviations in the cliff split it in several places, creating a dozen individual waterfalls that merge back together in the pool and continue onward.

“It's beautiful,” Syndel says.

I watch her, smiling as she moves around the pool to see everything from different angles. “When I first discovered it,” I say, settling myself on a smooth rock, “I stayed here for two days straight.”

“You must have seen the moon and stars reflected in the pool,” she says, stooping down to see her own reflection. “It must be extraordinary.”

I'm tempted to extend our visit so she can see it herself, but I already know the idea is unwise. “There's something else I'd like to show you.”

She joins me and together we draw nearer to the cliff, sliding through a narrow space between the rock and the waterfall where an opening takes us into the side of the mountain. The cave is not large, nor does it go very far, but the reward is clear. Thousands of tiny crystals embedded in the walls and ceiling twinkle at us as if mimicking the stars. Syndel is transfixed.

“Unbelievable,” she breathes, running her fingers along the rock, which glimmer even more with her aura. The effect is breathtaking. I wish she could see it the way I do.

“We should probably head back now,” I say reluctantly.

“So soon?” she says, frowning. “Will you bring me here again someday?”

“If you wish,” I say, pleased that the outing was a success.

We make it back to Nikom and return the horses to their stalls. Syndel lingers to help prepare the horses for the evening. “The other horses need some exercise as well,” Syndel says, setting the reins and bridles back in their places. “Perhaps we can go out again tomorrow.”

“I'd like that,” I say, making a mental list of other landmarks in the area I can show her.

We leave the stable and make our way to Swen's. The air has cooled and the overhead clouds have shifted to reveal the first stars of the evening. Beside me, Syndel rubs at her arms. In one motion I remove my cloak and set it around her shoulders. She smiles at me.

“Thank you.”

The house comes into view, but I don't want to go inside, as if doing so will break the spell of contentment we've created together. I glance at her from the corner of my eye, wondering if she feels it too or if I'm deluding myself.

We pause on the porch, yet neither of us reaches for the doorknob. She leans over the railing, her eyes turned to the sky.

“When I was young,” she says, “I had a doll with golden hair, blue eyes, and a simple green dress. I'd take her with me everywhere. My mother told me she arrived one night just for me so I would always have a friend. I lost the doll not long after that. It was the same night I lost them all.”

“Your family?” I ask quietly. “What happened to them?”

She looks at me. Her aura dims just enough for me to know the answer involves great sadness. “They're dead. Our village was attacked and very few people escaped.”

I don't need to ask about the source of the attack. Soulless. Does this mean the souls of her family have been stolen? Are they monsters now themselves? I feel responsible somehow, as if I should have been there to protect her from the start. “I'm sorry,” I say, speaking for my kind, though I know it can't even begin to make up for her loss.

She shakes her head. “You have nothing to apologize for. They are still with me.” She lays a hand on her chest. “In here.”

Her bravery touches me, easing my tension. Yet, if I ever find out who was responsible, there is nothing I wouldn't do to make them suffer.