By the time Lei has shown me around the entire camp site, the sun has begun its descent. I stay by Samu's side, brushing his hair back from his forehead and ignoring the occasional murmurs from outside the tent.

Part of me wants desperately to be exploring camp further. Following the path to the stream or keeping a closer watch on the guard changes of the specific tent, but I force myself to stay put. Eyes watch my every move already. I can't risk heightening their suspicion.

Samu's chest rises and falls steadily, his skin no longer a sickly grey. And yet my heart aches as I sit restless at his side.

When Cadence and I were eight, her grandfather fell into an unconscious state much like this. I remember hiding behind the kitchen doorway with Cadence, spying upon her mother as she whispered words to the unresponsive man lying flat upon the bed.

She caught us spying once, invited us in.

They can hear you even when they don't see you, she said, from the depths of their mind. You can help them come back.

Cadence whispered words to her grandfather for the next week before he died. When she returned to school, she was a shell of her former self, convinced that she hadn't spoken to him enough, hadn't convinced him to return. She believed it was her fault he died.

And though I always doubted the truth to Cadence's mother's words, I understand. Because though Samu remains unresponsive to any touch, any voice, any words, I murmur stories in his ear—of Casimir, our father, of the wildflower meadow by the lake in Veymaw.

I don't realise I've fallen asleep until a cough from the entrance draws me from my own state of unconsciousness. I'm slumped over on my arms, leaning against Samu's mattress as Lei blinks into vision.

"Dinner is prepared," she says. "In the dining tent."

The dining tent had been large enough to fit the amount of people at camp. A meal time, I assume, would be the time the streets are most empty. "I'd rather eat alone."

"That's not an option."

"Fine. I'm not hungry then."

"Queen Sanaa requests that you join her, regardless of your hunger."

I lift my head to meet her gaze. There doesn't seem to be a threat to her words, nor in her stance. Rather, after spending most of the day with her, my original fear has shifted to a faint wariness. I don't doubt that she could tear my head off if she wanted, but I'm not afraid of her. Not anymore. But something in her gaze suggests she's not going to take no for an answer.

I force myself to my feet and meet her by the entrance, rolling my shoulders back. As suspected, it's pitched black outside. The only guide along the path are the purple moonstones scattered alone each side, creating a strip through the tents. I keep my eyes trained to the floor, trying to keep up with her pace as the distant murmur and warmth of voices lures us closer.

The tent she showed me earlier is the only one alight in the entire camp, emitting an orange glow. Shadows crawl up the sides of the material, making the figures inside appear much more threatening. Yarrow glances at me before pulling the sheet aside. I take a shaky breath, rolling my shoulders back to step in after him.

The warmth is the first thing I notice, the stares the next. The conversation lulls to a murmur as I step through the entrance, all eyes casting towards where I stand inches behind Lei. I force myself to lift my chin, keeping my eyes forward despite the fear coursing through my veins.

The last time I was around this many shifters was in the ballroom. And even then, I'd thought I had Killian, another human to keep the fears at bay. Now, there are no illusions to what I've walked into. I am entirely outnumbered. Not even Lei's talk of her country and their beliefs are enough to keep the fears at bay.

Wooden tables crafted haphazardly from tree trunks are gathered in a C shape around the perimeter of the tent. Directly opposite the entrance where I stand, Sanaa sits. Two chairs are empty on either side of her. Sanaa rises to her feet, and all the left-over murmurs lull to a stop.

With a nod of her head, she stretches her arms out towards the empty chair at her side. "Freya, thank you for joining me."

Eyes burn into me as I step forward, each step calculated. I'm used to the stares. Ever since Samu was taken, they followed me around Veymaw like a bad smell. But I've never felt so alone in those stares, before, either. I glance towards Lei as I settle into the seat. She's already seated on Sanaa's left, her sharp gaze slicing through all the shields I tried to uphold.

Sanaa waits till I'm seated before she sits down again, the murmur resuming. But it's a different kind of noise than the one that emanated outside the tent, the kind of noise where you know it's about you.

A plate is placed before me. Steam from the red soup swirls in the air, the savoury aroma wafting towards me. My stomach rumbles, and despite what I told Lei, I tentatively pick up the spoon and swirl it around the bowl. Any attempts of escape will be poor if I'm half-starved.

"I hope you enjoyed your tour," Sanaa says without looking at me, stabbing a carrot with her fork.

Even the way she chews seems delicate, purposeful.

"How long has your camp been here?"

"In this spot? Three months. It isn't safe to stay anywhere for too long."

"And in Elel?"

"Our clan will be coming up to one year in Elel, now."

I let out a shaky breath, returning my gaze to the soup. Have the shifters at the Palace always known Torinnians resided here? They never hinted at the threat to us, which surprises me. They took any chance to instil fear in us, remind us that they protected us from the savages from foreign countries.

The volume has resumed to the level it was at before I entered. I take the opportunity to survey the room, searching for a familiar face. It doesn't take me long to spot Killian, sitting on the opposite side of the room beside a red-headed girl, Draigh on his other side. A grin lights his face as he says something to the girl, who splutters out laughter in response. My stomach drops at the sight, and I return my gaze to my soup.

I wish I hadn't looked.

"How is your brother doing?" Sanaa asks.

"Still unconscious."

She shifts her gaze to survey the room. "I understand that you don't believe what we've told you," she says. "It is a lot to process, especially considering what you've been through this past year."

I clench my teeth as she speaks, wondering how much she knows about me, my past, my life. How many of my secrets has Killian divulged? How much of my private thoughts and worries have been plucked and shared with the enemy?

"Regardless of what you believe, it'll be some time before it's safe for you to return home," she says. "What harm would it be to at least try and believe?"

"Believe?" I ask. "You mean like... believe in the Cloud Piercer?"

"Believe that you're the Cloud Piercer."

Her words send a chill down my spine. Nobody has said them aloud since Killian divulged the truth to me in that carriage, and the weight of them has not lessened, nor has the way I feel about hearing them become clearer.

"My father taught me not to believe in silly things such as magic."

"Your father was an intelligent man who went to great lengths to protect you." A small smile crosses her face, as if recounting a fond memory. "But he knew very well that magic existed. He was in love with a Kinjri, after all."

I want to shove her from my mind—thoughts of this woman, Nala, my mother. Somebody who has changed the trajectory of my life without me even knowing of their existence. But I know that often what we want is not going to be achieved by pushing away uncomfortable topics.

"If I do... try to believe," I say, humoring her. "Then what?"

"Then we will train you."

"I already know how to fight."

"Not combat training. Your King—"

"He's not my King."

Her lips twitch upwards, but she doesn't scold me for the interruption. "Killian told me how he tried to get you to cure the infected shifter." She pauses, observing me closely for a reaction. I don't give her one. "Ereon believed you would possess the same magic as your mother."

"And what do you believe?"

"I believe that you are our only hope of destroying the cloud."

"And how do you expect me to do that?"

"I don't know, Freya," she admits. "Look around this room. Every single person here has their own theories. But none of us truly know. But we're here, and we're willing to do everything that we can to try. And if that fails, we will try something else."

I gaze around the room, scanning the different faces. People, young and old, litter the dining room. They all look mismatched, like pieces from different puzzle sets that somehow manage to fit together. I think of their families back home. They've given up everything and ventured into enemy territory with no certainty that their mission will show success.

"How can you dedicate your lives to something that isn't certain?" I ask.

"For the same reason you went to the Palace. A decision some would call foolish."

I furrow my brows, unsure whether she's one of those people. "I'd do anything to save Samu."

"Every single person in this room has a Samu. Most of us have already lost our Samu's, but what life is it if we don't fight for the ones who are still left?"

I meet her gaze. Firelight flickers in the shadows of her dark eyes, retellings of her life playing in a language I can't speak. I think of Samu, of Casimir and Cadence.

The conversation feels much too heavy to be had over a bowl of soup. The weight of it, what they want me to do, makes it difficult to breathe. Even if me entertaining the idea is nothing but a carefully played game.

"Did you know her? The woman you claim to be my biological mother?" I ask.

"No. I was very young when Ereon kidnapped her. But she was a great friend of my mothers. They spoke highly of her."

It's peculiar to speak of this complete stranger with the knowledge that so many people believe her to be my mother. The thought is confronting. It's not that I don't believe it, exactly, more so that if I embrace the knowledge, it means my father is a liar. When he told me I had my mother's eyes, did he mean her, Nala? Or was it simply an intricately slung silk line in his web of lies?

I lift my gaze from the table. And like a moth to a flame, it drifts to Killian. He's already staring in our direction, catching my gaze the second ours connect. I can't seem to draw my eyes away, despite the ache in my chest.

I don't want to know you.

My own words echo through my head as we stare at one another. For a moment, I wonder if he thinks of them too. If he knows how far from the truth they really are.

Sanaa doesn't know me, either. Every single person in this room sees me as their weapon, their way of ending the cloud. Killian made me feel seen, known, in a way nobody else had before. But there's a sense of loss in realising that it wasn't real. That he didn't see me, he saw the Cloud Piercer, the one his people needed.

I wish I could hate him for it. I wish this yearning in my chest would fizzle like a dying fire. But I think of Samu and Casimir and Cadence, and I wonder if I would've done the same.

"They'll be searching for me, you know," I say quietly to Sanaa, my eyes still stuck on Killian.

"Who?"

"The deserters. They'll kill him when they find out he was a traitor."

Sanaa snorts, the gesture somehow still graceful. "Killian is our commander for a reason. Your rebel group wouldn't stand a chance. It's Ereon you should be worried about. If he gets his hands on you, there's no telling what he'll do." She follows my eyes to Killian, glancing back at me curiously. "You don't need to worry about Killian."

I tear my gaze away, cheeks warming. "I'm not. They can have him for all I care."

She stares at me for a few more seconds before turning to Lei, distracted by something else. I take the reprieve from her attention to focus on finishing the soup. After so long without a nutritious meal, it churns in my stomach unpleasantly, despite the way my body urges me to shovel it down.

Across the room, I still feel the heat of Killian's gaze, but I refuse to return it. Even when the room starts to clear as people finish their meal and retreat outside, I keep my gaze on the table, afraid of what I might find when I look up.

By the time my bowl is empty, the tent nearly is too until Sanaa and I are one of the only few left. Killian and Draigh remain seated, watching us as Sanaa walks with me to the tent entrance, brushing it aside to let me through.

I turn to look at her once outside. The air of power still lingers around her, but it doesn't terrify me as much, not anymore. When she looks down at me, I don't see the disgust in her gaze like I did with Elora or the King.

"I'll try," I say, mustering up a confident tone. "Try to... train, whatever that means."

A small smile tugs at her lips. "Lei can show you back to your tent."

I nod in gratitude as Lei joins us outside.

"I'd rather stay with Samu."

"In the future you may, but for tonight, our healer needs her space."

"Your healer?"

"Lei's mother has been tending to Samu while we were eating," she explains. "She'll be with him all night, trying to help."

I blink at her, slightly speechless. Earlier, she'd implied that healing Samu was conditional to my compliance. Why did she change her mind?

Standing, we're of a similar height. But her gaze makes me feel miniscule. "Forgive me if I came across hostile this morning," she says. "I realise now that I didn't approach things in the... appropriate manner."

"Thank you," I say sincerely.

She tilts her head in farewell. I turn around, starting to head in the opposite direction when she calls out my name. I turn to look at her over my shoulder.

"Be grateful your deserter friends won't be able to hurt Killian. He's very persuasive," she says. "Without him, I would never have changed my mind about helping your brother." I frown as she inclines her head forward. "I look forward to your training."

I watch as she walks away, hope filling my chest as my mind runs through the layout of the camp. As soon as Samu has woken, I'll take the first chance I can get to get us out of this place. A small seed of guilt festers in my chest at the idea, but I shove it away as Killian emerges from the tent, meeting my gaze as he brushes past.

I learnt deceit from the very best.