Cal's screams and pleas were agonizing. They were the worst sounds Matias had ever heard.

Fire and light flared.

The snow around her melted, and everyone shielded their eyes. The air around them heated.

Cal knelt there, burning, not speaking.

The light grew darker until it eventually went out. Flames around her fingertips guttered and winked out.

"Cal?" he whispered.

She turned her gaze to his.

Oh, gods, her face. Her face was as red as a lobster—blisters and welts were on her forehead, her nose, her jaw. Her cheekbones were more prominent, her eyes a little more sunken.

He sagged against the mana propping him up. His vision started to fade as blood loss took its toll.

"Medic," he conceded. "I need a medic."

They turned and led him to their encampment. Matias looked over his shoulder in time to see the Everlight help Cal to her feet.

Once Matias entered the healing tent, they set him down on a cot and let the medic—the lakare, they called him—get to work.

The lakare was an older man with greying blonde hair.

"Drink this," he instructed gruffly. "It will numb the pain." He held a tiny glass in his hand filled with a pale yellow liquid.

Matias took the glass. Bottom's up, he thought and downed the contents. He shuddered as he swallowed.

The lakare took off Matias's boots. He took a pair of scissors from a nearby tray and cut up the leg on his trousers.

"My name is Daktari Hale. I will be your healer," said the lakare.

His accent was off—deeper than the other Krigereans'.

"You're not from here, are you?" asked Matias.

Daktari smirked. "Smart man. I escaped Tenebrarum the day before King Jasiah's death. Good thing, too, otherwise I'd be one of the witch's mindless grunts."

Calista and the Everlight moved through the tent flaps. She leaned heavily on him, worn out from her magic and running. Daktari paled out of the corner of his eye.

"Trapped in iron," said Akaljot, helping her to a bed.

"Queen Melania knows how to play dirty, then," Daktari said, pursing his lips.

More footsteps crunched outside. The girl from earlier ducked in through the flaps, her hand covered in blood.

Daktari swore. "How many of you are there and are you all injured?"

"The princess and I are our own group," said Matias. "We don't know this girl."

Akaljot looked over his shoulder and scowled at the girl.

The girl smiled warmly as she sat down on an unoccupied cot. "That's okay! My name is Luna."