Kael walked until his feet bled.

  He did not know where he was going. Only where he was not going back to. Sorn. Sessh. The camp. The knife.

  The wooden sword was in his belt. He touched it sometimes to make sure it was still there. It was all he had.

  He was twelve years old. He was alone. He had killed three men and let two go. He had walked away from the man who thought he owned him.

  Sorn would be angry. Sorn would send people. Kael needed to be somewhere else before they came.

  He found a stream. Washed his face. The water was cold. He drank until his stomach hurt. Then he walked more.

  The forest had no paths. Kael did not need paths. He just needed away.

  By morning he was hungry. By noon he was shaking. By evening he could not feel his feet.

  He found a hollow tree. Crawled inside. Slept.

  He dreamed of Corvin. The teacher. The straight shoulders. The letter he burned.

  He dreamed of Maren. The soldier who chose. Who died choosing.

  He dreamed of Sessh. The smile when he walked away. The shock.

  He woke up screaming.

  The forest was dark. Something moved outside.

  Kael grabbed the knife. Waited.

  "Kael?"

  He knew that voice. He did not believe it.

  "Kael, you idiot, come out."

  Mira. Rust-colored hair. Fierce eyes. She was ten years old and she had followed him.

  Kael crawled out. Stood up. Fell down. Stood up again.

  "How?" he asked.

  "I followed you. You walk loud. You talk to yourself. You are easy to track."

  "Why?"

  Mira looked at him like he was stupid. "You are my friend. You are the only person who was kind without wanting something. I am not letting Sorn kill you."

  "He will kill you too. If he finds you with me."

  "Then he will not find me." Mira had a pack. Food. Water. A blanket. "I stole these. From Sorn's own tent. He will think you took them."

  Kael ate. Drank. Felt human again.

  "We cannot stay," he said. "We cannot go back. Sorn has people everywhere."

  "I know," Mira said. "We go north. To the neutral islands. Lira went there. The woman you saved. She will help us."

  "She does not owe me. I let her go. That is not a debt."

  "It is to her." Mira handed him bread. "Eat. Then walk. We have weeks of walking."

  They walked.

  Three days. Then five. Then ten.

  Kael learned to move quiet. Mira taught him. She was better at this than him. Better at tracking. Better at hiding. Better at surviving.

  "You should have been the ghost," he said.

  "I am not a ghost," she said. "I am alive. I plan to stay that way."

  On the twelfth day, the hunter found them.

  Kael heard the horse first. The crack of branches. The snort of breath.

  He grabbed Mira's arm. Pulled her down. They hid in ferns.

  The hunter was big. On a black horse. He had a club and a rope. Not a soldier. A tracker. Someone paid to find. Paid to bring back.

  He stopped where they had slept last night. Dismounted. Looked at the ground.

  "Two," he said to himself. "Small. One heavier. Walking together."

  He looked up. Scanned the trees. Kael held his breath.

  The hunter smiled. "I know you are there, little ghosts. Sorn told me about you. The boy who weeps. The boy who spares. He wants you back. Alive, he said. But he did not say whole."

  He walked toward their hiding place. Slow. Confident.

  Kael thought about running. About fighting. About dying.

  He thought about Corvin. About facing the wall. About choosing how to meet what came.

  He stood up. Walked out of the ferns.

  "Just me," he said. "The girl is nothing. She followed me. Let her go."

  Mira stood up too. "I am not nothing. I am the one who stole Sorn's food. I am the one who tracked his ghost. You want him, you go through me."

  The hunter laughed. "Children. Brave children. I have hunted brave children before."

  He moved fast. Faster than Kael expected. The club swung.

  Mira ducked. Struck back with a rock. Missed.

  The hunter grabbed her hair. Lifted her. "You first, little thief. Lesson for the ghost to watch."

  Kael moved.

  Not thinking. Not planning. Just moving.

  The Trust awakened.

  It was not power. Not magic. Just clarity. The world slowed and Kael saw everything.

  The hunter's weight on his left foot. The gap between his arm and his body. The way he held Mira—loose, confident, not expecting attack.

  Kael struck. The knife handle to the hunter's knee. Hard. Precise. The leg buckled.

  The hunter dropped Mira. Turned. Swung the club.

  Kael was already inside the swing. He struck again. The throat. Not with the blade. With the flat of his hand. Choking. Stopping breath.

  The hunter fell. Gasping. Kael stood over him. The knife ready.

  "Kill him," Mira said. "He will follow. He will tell."

  Kael looked at the hunter. At the fear in his eyes. At the way he clutched his throat. At the human being underneath the hunt.

  "No," Kael said.

  He knelt. Took the hunter's weapons. The club. A small knife. The rope.

  "Listen," he said to the gasping man. "You will lie here. You will breathe. When you can walk, you will go south. You will tell Sorn you found nothing. You will tell him the ghost is dead. Drowned. Eaten by wolves. Whatever you want."

  "Why?" the hunter managed.

  "Because I am not you," Kael said. "Because I choose. Because you will remember this. And one day, when someone asks you to hunt a child, you will remember and you will say no."

  He stood. Walked away. Mira followed.

  Behind them, the hunter lay in the ferns. Breathing. Living. Remembering.

  They walked faster after that. No more hiding. Just moving. North. Always north.

  The Trust faded. Kael felt old. Tired. His bones hurt.

  "You are pale," Mira said.

  "It has a cost," Kael said. "Everything has a cost."

  "Then stop using it."

  "I cannot. It is not a tool. It is what happens when I am most true."

  Mira did not understand. She walked beside him anyway.

  Six weeks. They reached the coast.

  The neutral islands were visible across the water. Green. Small. Safe.

  Lira found them on the beach. She had watchers. Lookouts. People who owed her.

  "You came," she said. "You actually came."

  "You said you would help," Kael said. "I need help."

  "I owe you my life," Lira said. "You gave it back. Now I give you yours."

  She took them to the islands. To a village of people who had nowhere else. Spies who escaped. Soldiers who refused. Children who grew up too fast.

  Vorn was there. The young messenger Kael had spared. He was thirteen now. Taller. He worked the boats.

  "You came," Vorn said. "You said you would find my sister. You came yourself."

  "I came because I had nowhere else," Kael said. "But I will find her. If she lives. If she can be found."

  "She lives," Lira said. "Uvara has her. In a school. They train children there. Not like Sessh. Different. Better. Worse. I do not know."

  Kael thought about Elara. Eleven years old now. In a school. Being trained.

  "I will find her," he said again.

  "You are twelve," Lira said. "You are hunted. You are half-dead from walking."

  "Not yet," Kael said. "But I will grow. I will learn. I will become someone who can."

  He stayed three years.

  He learned to fish. To sail. To fight with a sword. To speak Uvaran. To read.

  Mira stayed. She became a healer. Learned herbs. Learned wounds.

  Vorn stayed. He taught Kael the water. The currents. The hidden paths.

  The Trust grew. Kael learned to call it. To push it away. To survive the cost.

  He killed once in those three years. A raider who attacked the village. Who would have killed children. Kael did not weep this time. He prayed. In his own way. To whatever listened.

  He grew. Fifteen years old. Tall. Thin. Scarred. Still with old eyes.

  And he planned.

  Uvara. The school. The children. Elara.

  She would be fourteen now. Not a child. Not grown. In between.

  He would find her. He would save her. He would keep his promise.

  Or he would die trying.