The lands are increasingly barren. There are fewer rodents and birds and no livestock at all. Fields are empty, yellowed by the menacing scourge.

A small town nestled between two grass-bare hills holds the prospect of a warm bed and something to eat. The timing couldn't be better since we're almost out of food.

We locate the inn, which is actually just a few rooms at the rear of the alehouse often used by local drunkards too inebriated to walk home. We're fortunate to secure one of the rooms for a few coins.

The wife of the barkeep, a pleasant woman who reminds me a bit of Widow Swen, allows Syndel to use their bathtub. While she gratefully takes the opportunity to scrub off the visible signs of travel, I meander around the town, pausing at the stable to check on Hetty before stopping at a shop that sells trinkets and mementos; souvenirs for the few travelers who pass through. I glance at a shelf of various animals carved from wood or talcum and then move on to rows of jewelry adorned with painted beads or polished rocks.

“Looking to buy something for someone special?” asks a voice behind me.

I look over my shoulder at an elderly man with tufts of gray hair and the milky-white eyes of someone who is blind. “Perhaps,” I say, glad the man can't see the sudden red in my face. “Did you make all of these?”

“Every one,” he says with a proud grin. “Even blind men can be useful. Might I make some suggestions?” He motions for me to follow him. We cross the small space to a glass cabinet. Inside are little pillows, each holding two matching glass-spun hearts used as brooches, rings, necklace pendants, or button pins.

“With these,” the old man says, “you and your sweetheart will be forever linked.”

I'm impressed by the intricacy and detail of the trinkets, yet I'd like to find something that would be meaningful to Syndel, not just a pretty bauble anyone could get. A sudden idea comes to me. “Do you make dolls?”

“Used to. What do you have in mind?”

I think back to Syndel's description of the doll from her childhood. “Golden hair, blue eyes, green dress.”

The old man taps his chin. “I think I can whip something up. How long will you be in town?”

“Just till morning.”

“Come by before you leave. I'll have it ready.” He holds out one of his gnarled hands. I grasp it, impressed by his firm grip.

I make my way back to the alehouse. The scent of some kind of soup greets me as I enter; so do a few surly glances from the patrons sipping from their tankards. They must be upset that one of the rooms has been let out to strangers. Ignoring them, I head to the rear of the building and enter our rented room. Syndel stands at a tarnished mirror, her hands mussing with her black hair, trying to put it in some sort of order. She grumbles in frustration.

“It has a mind of its own now,” she says, her hands dropping to her sides in defeat.

I like how it hangs to her shoulders with a slight curl at the ends, framing her face. In fact, I wouldn't mind if her hair remained this way permanently.

“Did you find anything exciting while you were out?” she asks.

“Not really,” I say. “Though Hetty was grateful to get a proper brushing. I think supper is ready. Would you like to eat in the main room or shall I bring our meals back here?”

“Back here,” she says, sounding relieved.

Leaving the room, I retrace my steps to rejoin the men and their drinks. The barkeep's wife is behind the counter dishing up steaming helpings of soup—which seem watered down and limited on ingredients—into good-sized bowls.

“Two, please,” I say.

She winks at me. “Not surprised the two of you wish to eat away from the riffraff. Lovebirds need time to themselves.”

My face fills with heat. I open my mouth to correct her but decide her assumption is better than any falsehood I could come up with. Besides, I rather liked the sound of it.

“Thank you,” I say, picking up the bowls and turning away. A large man stands in my way, knocking the bowls and their contents to the floor. The entire room goes silent. I look up at the man, who stands a full head taller than me. His eyes narrow, his upper lip sneers.

“You dropped something,” he drawls.

A few whispers race around the room. My gaze moves to the mess on the floor and then back to the man. “We both know that's not true. I suggest you clean it up.”

He snorts. “Are you going to make me?”

“Only if I have to,” I say, my muscles tensing.

Laughing, the man looks around the room at his comrades. “What do you think, boys? Can he make me?”

Cries of disagreement and ridicule are the response. The man turns to face me again, cracking his knuckles one by one. “And for your insolence, when I'm through pounding you, I'm going to pay a visit to your lady friend.”

Something erupts inside me. Before the man can blink, my fist is lodged in his face, sending him crashing to the ground. I leap on top of him, my teeth bared. “For your insolence, I'll crush each of your bones until you beg for mercy. Then I'll rip out your tongue so I won't have to listen to your useless pleas. And as you die,” I say, lowering my voice for only him to hear, “I'll set loose a monster from the darkest of nightmares to take your pathetic excuse for a soul.”

The man, blood streaming from his broken nose and mashed teeth, sputters words I can't understand. My rage is jolted when I recognize the terror in his eyes. Using every bit of self-control I have, I get to my feet and walk to the counter to get two new bowls of soup. I continue to the rear room without looking back.

“What's wrong?” Syndel asks the moment she sees me.

I shrug, setting her bowl on the bedside table so I can discreetly wipe the man's blood from my knuckles onto the back of my trousers. “A small disagreement, but I took care of it.”

“Are you sure? Your mood is . . . on edge.”

“I'm fine now. Are you hungry?”

She takes the bowl from the table, her eyes searching mine. I look away before she can read too much. We eat in silence.

None of the men from the bar will bother us now, but I'll be restless until the moment we leave this place.

***

Syndel offers to collect Hetty, giving me a chance to return to the shop for her gift. I enter, calling out, “Hello?”

The old man appears from another doorway, a small package in his hand. “Just finished wrapping it,” he says. “I hope your special someone will be pleased.”

I take it from him, hoping the same thing. “How much do I owe you?”

He shakes his head. “No charge. Just promise to take good care of her.”

I'm not sure if he's referring to the doll or its intended recipient. “I will. Thank you.”

As I walk back outside, I see a group of familiar men standing on the opposite side of the street. They watch me warily but make no move to advance. The large man I assaulted last night is not among them. Syndel soon joins me with Hetty, who looks sleek and well-rested. I hastily stow the package in the saddlebag without Syndel noticing. As I turn to ask her if she's ready to leave, I see that she's looking at the group of men. I know she's reading them.

After another moment she looks at me, her eyes wide. “Cress,” she whispers, “what did you do?”

I don't like the alarm in her voice.

“The man you attacked has been telling everyone you're a Soulless,” she continues. “They've sent for Noble-lords.”

I swallow hard. My actions could lead our pursuers straight here, and then on our trail to the south. I should have just ignored the brute and walked away. “Then we should leave immediately.”

My response leaves her dissatisfied, as well as pale with uneasiness, but she says no more about it. We leave the town and continue south toward the awaiting swamp.

When I'm not looking back to see if Noble-lords are on our heels, I'm glancing at the saddlebag, each time wondering if I should give Syndel the doll now or wait for a more special moment. The only problem is I don't know what makes a moment more special than another. And I'm nervous because it's more than just a gift. She has allowed me the use of the pendant given to her by her mother, a sentimental bond not easily broken. Will a simple doll make up for it?

“You're quieter than usual,” Syndel says as we pause briefly for lunch. “Is something else wrong?”

I'm just going to do it. I walk to the saddlebag and retrieve the package. “I got something for you back in town. It's . . . I hope . . .” I clamp my mouth shut to halt the stuttering and simply hand the package to her.

She looks at me for a moment before carefully tearing through the wrapping. The doll rests in her hands. It's just as I described to the old man. I hope it fits her memory. She stares down at it, saying nothing. My hands fidget together.

“I know it's probably not exact,” I say, needing to break the silence. “And it can't replace the one you once had or the pendant, but—”

She throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you,” she says softly, touching her lips to my cheek.

Bits of light flash in my eyes. I feel strong and feeble at the same time. My arms encircle her, tightening to bring her closer until her feet no longer touch the ground. “You're welcome.”

I reluctantly set her back down, though my arms remain around her. She looks up at me, her eyes searching. I'm prepared to hide all my emotions from her probing gaze, but I let the walls and barriers I've perfected over the years fall away, baring everything to her. Does she see? Does she know how much I love her? A sudden ache in my chest makes it difficult to breathe.

I love her.

The weakness I felt moments ago intensifies, overcoming my strength. I can't breathe at all now. Stumbling backward, I fall to the ground, my sight blurring.

“Cress?” Syndel cries, kneeling at my side.

I try to reach for her, but my arms are useless. Pain spreads through my body. Panic sets in. What's happening? A shroud of darkness comes, blocking Syndel from my view, taking me away from her against my will.

I'm not alone. Someone is with me in the darkness.

“Do you think she could ever love you, Soulless?” a voice says, coming at me from all directions.

“It's possible,” I say, though I don't entirely believe my own words.

The voice laughs; I've heard it before. “You're right. It is possible. Shall I tell you how?”

I know the question is a trick, but I can't help myself. “Tell me.”

The darkness around me shifts, moving like ripples on the surface of water. “She must become like you.”

Anger boils inside me. “Never. I'd rather have her hate me.”

“We both know that's not true. Your pathetic existence is nothing without her. You long for her in every way. Don't fight it. Not when you can be together forever.”

His words have power. They tempt me despite my objections. I struggle to fight against his influence. “I'm different. She sees that.”

“Fool,” the voice hisses. “Then I shall have the great pleasure of taking her from you. The pain will be unbearable, and you will witness every moment.”

My anger rekindles, sweeping aside any doubts and enticements. “Not if I fight you.”

Malicious laughter fills the air, pounding in my ears. “We shall see.”

A blinding light replaces the darkness. Syndel's face hovers above mine, relief washing away her expression of distress. “Cress, can you hear me?”

I manage a nod, though doing so sends pain shooting through my skull. I don't want to move. “Stay . . . with me,” I croak, letting my eyes fall shut again.

“I will,” she says earnestly.

She carefully cradles my head in her lap, her fingers gently smoothing my hair. She hums a sweet melody. Everything she does is soothing, though I can't completely banish the nightmarish vision from my mind. I know the source of the malicious voice; it's a voice I've contended with for three decades.

The monster inside me.

It grows increasingly restless, but I'm strong, even more so than before. It can haunt me all it wants. I will never give in.