The wagon crashed to the ground behind them. Saphier made a choked noise, as close to a scream as her throat could make past the sudden lump in it.

"Ashen." His name came out breathless. "Ashen."

He was on the ground, ripping himself free of writhing grass. The wagon bent and broke under it. The horses screamed, thrashing wildly. Whoever had been driving the wagon lay partly over the seats, unmoving.

Lightfingers and Cord stood on the road. Ashen ran for them, stumbling over grass.

She lunged for the side of the wagon. Saphier had no weapons, and no armor, but she didn't care.

The back of her shirt wrenched tight, choking her as she was hauled back.

"Saphier, no," Mattrin hissed. They were moving farther and farther from them. Lightfingers glanced back briefly, meeting Mattrin's eyes past her shoulder.

Then they were all fighting, and the creatures had them surrounded in a heartbeat. Her brother stood, knife in hand. He looked terrified.

"No!"

The wagon bounced, and she almost fell off despite Matt's hold on her.

"Bastard!" she yelled the word, yanking against his grip. One of her feet connected with his side and she shoved off it. Even with the leverage she couldn't break free. "Bastard. We have to help them, we, we..." Her vision swam, and Saphier realized she was crying.

Matt pulled her to his chest. She could hear his wild heartbeat as he held her. Fists balling, she drove one into his side. Hard. Matt barked a sound of pain, and his grip faltered.

Saphier lunged for the edge again.

Her arm jerked out behind her, steely fingers clenched over her wrist. "Saphier! Stop!"

She couldn't see them. Tears ran down her face. Each breath became a pant, rebounding against her mask. Mist covered the road behind them, hiding everything.

"We have to go back." She tried to scream the words at him, but her voice cracked on the first one. "We have to. They have Ash, and Lightfingers. Cord." She couldn't make her chest move to draw in a breath, as if her body didn't remember how. As if her twin had been the air inside her lungs, and now he was gone.

A scream pierced the air, distant and shrill before it broke off into a thousand pieces of echo.

Matt's arms wrapped around her, holding her in close. This time, she didn't push away.

* * *

Someone shook her.

"Ash... stop." Her twin couldn't make her get up when her head hurt this much. No one made him do things when his head was like this, it wasn't fair.

"It's, it's not Ashen," someone said, their voice tight as a harp string tuned near breaking. "It's Matt."

Matt.

Matt. Saphier sat bolt upright on the wagon roof. "Ash. Ashen!" She practically screamed his name, the sound muffled under her mask. "Where is my brother?" Her eyes snapped hard to Mattrin. A look crossed his face, and it stabbed into her more painfully than any knife.

"We, we don't know, Saphier. I'm so sorry."

So sorry.

That's what you said after someone died, and no real words could help. I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm so sorry you have to go through this. So sorry.

She shook her head. "You made me leave him!" Her scream was shrill now even behind the leather. She blinked away tears, feeling them burn down her cheeks. "You left him."

Matt paled. Behind him, she noticed the looming bubble of the shielded city. They'd made it.

Without her brother. Without their leader. Without Cord.

He couldn't be dead. Her gaze stabbed into Mattrin. "We could have got them. I could have gotten them! Why did you stop me? He's my brother--my twin!" Her voice reached ever higher, till on the last words it broke all together, coming out breathless. "We left them there to die."

Matt swallowed. "We were all going to die, you saw those things."

"It doesn't matter!"

"Saphier." The way he said her name made it a snap. "It wouldn't have helped, we would have all died."

She shook her head, bright hair flapping about her face in the murky light of the Shade. "It would have mattered. It would have."

Curling in on herself, she sucked in a strangled breath. It would have mattered, and now nothing ever will again.

Matt was silent, not moving as the wagon continued up the road. Torches lined the sides here, lighting the Shade in murky bubbles of brightness. Almost safe.

Alone. Without Ash.

Anger boiled in her chest, burning on each breath as it if fueled the fire. Matt was wrong, they could have helped. They should have helped, no matter the cost.

"He's not dead," she said, voice faint. Then stronger, "He's not. I'd know if he were dead. He's not dead."

The look Matt gave her was indulgent pity and guilt.

"He isn't! I'd know, he's my twin. I'd know."

Matt nodded, but he didn't look convinced. "Alright."

She would though. She knew she would, how could she not? When she had spent every day of her life at his side, when they'd shared a womb. When they both shared their father's blood.

She would know.

Ahead of them, a long wall stretched in either direction. Guards walked across the top of it like a nest of orderly termites, pikes held high, and steps measured precisely. A massive gate split the wall down the middle. It stood closed, more armed men flanking it.

The first wagon met the gate, coming to a halt. Saphier watched numbly as the driver moved down from his perch shakily, beginning to talk to the guards. As he spoke, they began to cast wary looks back at the others. No, beyond them and into the Shade. The guard checked the driver's wrist. Her eyes followed him distantly as he recorded the troupe's brand into a thick book, then motioned for the gates to be opened as he rounded the wagon to peek inside it.

She would know. She would feel if he were gone. Even, no, especially if it had been in this place.

There was nothing to find inside the wagon, they never sent the ones with weapons up first. She glanced down at the wagon top under her shaking hands. The sun had bleached the color from the wood and paint till she couldn't be sure if it had been blue or purple.

A few moments later, the guard stepped out again and waved the first wagon through.

Fingers slow, she slid the edge of her sleeve back to reveal her wrist. The brand was in the shape of a fire baton, flames curling off the ends. The burn was so delicate and detailed it almost looked like a tattoo. She could remember getting it vividly, despite how young she'd been. Ashen had stood beside her, shoulders tight and drawn back, holding out his arm to receive his first. It had been a childish form of protection, the way he smiled afterwards, and told her it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. Even at six, he'd been an actor.

Their wagon came to an abrupt hault. Saphier jolted with it, almost smacking her head into Matt's shin as he moved to the side, hopping off the wagon.

They sat just on the wrong side of the gate now, only a few feet from where an invisible wall held back the squirming, writhing Shade.

Most of the guards stood in safety, but a few had masks over their faces. They stepped forwards to inspect the wagon.

"Any weapons?" one of them asked, boredly.

"No, sir." The driver shifted in her seat. Saphier noticed for the first time, it was Belline.

Ashen was wild for her, even though he'd never say so.

The guard nodded. "Mind if we take a look?" Belline shook her head. The smile she gave them was just slightly off. So, weapons in this one. Saphier swallowed, eyes following the guard who moved around to the back. He opened the door, stepping inside.

His weight made the wagon bounce, her nails bit into the peeling paint.

"What happened in the Shade?" This question held more interest than the one before. Another guard held a book open, preparing to write. Saphier squeezed her eyes shut. What a simple question for everything they'd been through.

Mattrin cleared his throat. "We lost a wagon," he said, voice soft, "And four of the troupe. Something... something broke the shield over the road." His swallow made a dry click. "There were creatures everywhere."

The wagon rocked as the guard moved about inside. Her chest tightened. He'd been in there longer than the other had been in the first wagon, hadn't he? What if he moved the bed and found the false floor panel with the bows.

"Ah," the guard speaking to Matt remained impassive, not unbelieving, but not convinced, just... even.

She grit her teeth. He didn't care. Ashen was... No.

"They got my twin!" she blurted, opening her eyes to look at the blank faced man. His mask obscured everything below steel grey eyes.

The man met her burning gaze. "I'm sorry for your loss." He motioned for Belline to show him her brand, and she did, solemn and silent as a fresh grave. He nodded looking away. "Climb down."

Saphier glared at him, then slid off the wagon. "You have to send a guard unit to get him." He looked up at her, eyes going exasperated above the line of his mask.

"The body is probably gone," he said in a flat voice. "Show me your brand."

Her stomach turned. Body. "I'm not talking about a body," Saphier spat the word with all her anger, as if hating it made it less likely to be true. "I'm talking about my missing brother!"

"Brand please."

"He's going to die unless you help him!"

"Brand."

"It's your job to make sure the road shield is safe, it's--"

Matt reached over and roughly grabbed her wrist, shoving the sleeve back. He twisted her arm so the brand faced upwards.

Saphier snarled low in the back of her throat, fingers balling into a fist. He shot her a hard look, giving her arm a squeeze with fingernails in it as the guard glanced at her wrist.

"He needs your help," she said, ignoring Matt's hand as it tightened more.

"He is not a citizen of the empire, and I am sworn to protect citizens of the empire. I can't risk the people I am to protect going after some juggler or fire spitting fool who got himself killed."

"He's an actor," Saphier hissed. "And he's more a man than yo--"

Matt jerked her behind him roughly. Stepping forward he held out his branded wrist. "Are we good?"

The guard cast Saphier a long look, then glanced over as the other came around the side of the wagon empty handed. At least they hadn't been caught. Not that they ever had. Wayless only got themselves caught with weapons once, and then they didn't have to worry about anything anymore.

Matt kept her arm as the first guard nodded their wagon through. "You know the drill," the man called after Belline. "One week, then you leave the city."

Matt's side pressed into hers as he held her uncomfortably close, fingers a knot on her wrist.

The Safe wagon moved up in Belline's space. Matt slowed, watching the guard with hawk eyes. The Shade twisted malformed fingers around them.

A guard moved around to the back of the metal wagon. It was a slick, silvery thing, glittering even in the Shade. At almost twice the size of the other wagons, it needed four horses to pull it.

Matt let her go, moving quickly over to the guard as he reached for the door. "I'd really prefer if you'd save opening that till after it's past the wall," he said smoothly. The guard froze, glancing up. "You know, safety measures for the goods inside. And the animals. The troupe cat is in a crate in their, as well as this one's pet." He jerked a thumb at Saphier.

The guard hesitated, looking up at the one who was clearly in charge. Saphier barely kept herself from glaring as her gaze moved to him. He wouldn't help. Of course.

Breathing hurt.

He isn't dead. Which meant he needed help.

"Right." The guard slapped the back of the wagon. "Stop on the other side of the wall and let me take a look."

Matt and the guard began to walk after the wagon. Mattrin glanced back, and the carefully constructed face he'd been holding shattered for a moment, a haunted look pressing through. "Come on."

Saphier moved after them, not looking at the head guard as she passed him. The back of her throat burned. Her chest tightened around a seething hate.

The wall tingled slightly as she stepped through it into the Island city. Saphier pulled her mask off, taking a breath of fresher air. Her hand shook as she scrubbed it over her face. The air still tasted a little stale, but the Island cities always felt stuffy. Hot liquid trickled through her fingers. Her insides felt like they were turning to stone.

"What are you transporting, anyway?" the guard ask behind her, a groan came a moment later as the tight set door of the Safe wagon was pulled open. Saphier pressed her hand into her face harder.

"Oh, you know, some of this, some of that." Mattrin sounded in control, despite the pain she'd seen behind his eyes. She glanced up, catching a glimpse of the guard as he stepped inside. "We're traveling things for the Nestwick traders and imperial supplies from Tanria."

The guard made a sound of approval. "Nestwick, aye? They're a fancy lot." The wagon jostled around a bit as he moved. Something squealed. The sound set Saphier's teeth on edge. Mattrin grimaced, silently watching.

Something thumped into the floor with a muffled noise. He must be opening crates. Her arms drew up and wrapped around herself. Couldn't they just be done already? Couldn't everyone just leave them alone?

"Whoa! What the hell was--"

"Ah, sorry. He's one of ours, the girl's pet," Matt said, voice tense.

Saphier's head snapped up, eyes flicking over towards the wagon.

He was at her side in a moment, little claws digging into her pant legs as he shot up to her shoulder. Maz's warm body curled against her neck.

What happened? the thought was demanding.

Saphier looked down. "I don't want to talk about it." Her voice trembled. "Not here." Numbness collected inside her stomach. Lightfingers was gone. Cord was gone.

Ashen couldn't be gone.

Another crate cracked open with the unpleasant sound of wood giving before nails. The lid banged over onto the wagon floor, echoing dully within the packed space. A grunt of satisfaction came from the guard.

Matt grimaced. "Please be careful with the merchandise."

"Aye. Carefully." There was a thunk of the lid being replaced. The guard appeared again, a small burlap sack in hand. He tossed it at another of the gaurds. "The imperial forces thank you for your generous donations," he said, grinning. Saphier's eyes went hard as he started away from the wagon. "Been a long time since we had a good cup of caff."

Matt's expression stayed mostly smooth in the face of the robbery, though she could see the burning anger just behind his eyes. He made a sweeping bow as the man passed. "Of course. It is our pleasure to sacrifice our means of income and reliability for the guards to have a good drink."

The guard gave him a snide look. "Of course it is, Wayless."

Mattrin moved to her side. "Come on, Saphier, let's get somewhere where you can sit down." His hand was gentle this time as it rest against her shoulder across from where the marten sat, his claws pricking her neck.

Where is Ash? Maz asked, muzzle brushing against her throat lightly.