THIRTEEN
AURIS STRODE THROUGH the camp, critically eyeing the results of her work. Trying to get a sense of whether or not her people thought she was doing well. She needed to be doing well. Recent events had left her feeling unusually fragile, and if there was one thing she couldn’t handle right now, it was failing at her one purpose in life.
She reached up to trace the new scars on her face and neck with her fingers—three upraised lines across her cheek, and another two on her neck. Scars she’d received from Kyr, who’d been with her since she was a child. Kyr had disappeared after the attack, and she had no idea where he was, now.
Meanwhile, Damien had been captured. Her cousin and aunt were gone. At least Deanis was with Jermi—and Wata, though that was less comforting than it should
