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Nameless healer,” said Gryphon.
    She flinched, but then seemed to remember herself with a tight curtsy before escaping the room.
    Gryphon stared at the door until he felt sure of his privacy. Only then did he bring out a stout brick of wood and a carving knife. He hummed random notes as he worked the wood. The beginnings of a new song danced on the tip of his tongue. Lyrics formed in his mind about a faceless girl who spouted magic from her fingertips. The melody begged to be sung, but Gryphon resisted. No one would ever sing his songs. Not even him.
    Ram did not sing.

Chapter 6

     
     
    Though Zo didn’t get to see Tess until the evenings, her every action and thought revolved around keeping her little sister safe. Was she hungry? Were the Ram field bosses kind to her? Were they working her too hard?
    Zo left Tess when she reported to the Medica every morning, and every morning she wondered if it would be the last time she saw her sister’s face. No matter how much skill and knowledge Zo possessed as a healer, it was only a matter of time before someone died under her care.
    Healing wasn’t just cleaning infection and wrapping bandages. To really heal someone you had to care about him enough to open your heart and let compassion travel through your hands. But how could she feel an ounce of compassion for the people who’d taken everything from her?
    Zo picked up a smooth stone on her way to the Medica. She weighed it in her hand then threw it into the forest lining the path. She wanted to scream, to release the fire in her stomach and rid herself of all the hate gathered there. But it would take more than stones and screams to relinquish her dark emotions.
    She needed to find some way to care for these people. For Tess’ sake. But how?
    Just as she did every day, Zo held her breath as she hurried through the vast square and past the sinister platform. She reached the pale stone Medica building just as the sun crested the eastern wall of Ram’s Gate. There were few Nameless here in the center of the town. Mostly Ram women walked the street. Many of them carried a long dagger or sword at their hip. Every now and then, Zoe saw a girl around her age with her head completely shaved, bringing emphasis to the Ram’s trademark long, narrow nose and dark features.
    Zo pulled her headscarf lower and kept her head down. She did her best to blend into the heavy stone buildings until she slipped unobserved through the back door of the Medica.
    Joshua, with his flaming red hair and excess of dimples, was still asleep when she entered his small room. But he wasn’t alone. The Ram soldier called Gryphon sat hunched in a chair next to him. His dark hair fell forward, framing a defined jaw and downturned lips. His knife and wooden carving were held loosely in large hands as he dozed.
    Zo pressed her back to the wall and worked her way around the room, careful to keep as much space between her and the Ram soldier as possible. She set her tray of medicines on the edge of the bed. Gingerly lifting Joshua’s wrist, she timed the rhythm of his heart.
    Stronger today. Good.
    Joshua woke with a loud yawn. “Good morning.”
    Then everything happened fast. Joshua, forgetting his injury, reached his arms above his head to stretch. He yelped in pain and yanked his arm back down, sending Zo’s tray clattering to the floor. Gryphon jumped awake and in a split second, had Zo’s back pinned against him, a blade pressed against her throat. His jagged breath blew past her ear.
    “Stop! Gryphon, it’s all right. I just knocked over the tray.” Joshua had rolled onto his knees in bed.
    And just as fast as it happened, the soldier lowered his arms and stepped away, looking around the room while blinking away sleep. “Sorry,” he mumbled, sheathing his dagger. He looked out the window and swore. “I’m late for training.” He grabbed a piece of bread from the ground—a portion of Joshua’s breakfast—gathered his pack, and sprinted out