CHAPTER THIRTY
Alec trekked across the Plain of Thorns, Marco beside him, the gray landscape and endless rolling thorn bushes matching his somber mood. The sky was gray, the earth was gray, the thorn bushes, filling the landscape as far as he could see, were gray, scratching at him as he walked. Marco weaved his way between them, but Alec no longer cared; he let himself be scratched. In fact, he welcomed the pain. Having just come from burying his family, it was the only thing that made him feel alive.
They had hiked from Soli through these desolate plains, the most direct way, Marco had said, to Ur and avoid detection by Pandesia. Alec, though, was barely cognizant of where he was as he went. With each step there flashed through his mind images of his brother, his dying words, his plea
