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crooked, broken years ago, leaving her mouth slanted and
her chin thrust to the side—an injury that would never heal. Yet
Issari was still pure. Issari was the only pure thing Laira still had
from her old home across the sea.
    "I lost a brother today," she whispered. "But I found
a sister."
    Issari mumbled, lying upon a fur rug beneath King's Column. The
others stood all around—Jeid, his children, and the newcomers. Some
stared at Issari, and others whispered amongst themselves of the
demon threat crawling across the land. Grief at Sena's death and joy
at finding Issari filled Laira, but fear coiled within her too. War
was coming; she smelled it on the wind, a faint stench.
    "Wake, Issari." Laira kissed the girl's cheek. "Wake
and tell us what you know."
    Dorvin paced restlessly beside them, his boots thumping upon the
marble tiles. A young man, his black hair falling across his brow, he
scowled and clenched his fists. His eyes burned. "She already
told us enough." Dorvin hawked and spat. "An army of
demons. Flying here. Very well then! We fight. We take flight now. We
meet them in battle." He raised his fist. "We blow fire and
we—"
    Jeid slapped the young man's nape. "Silence, boy. We don't fly
to war before hearing more." The king turned toward Alina, the
young druid. "Is the drink ready? Issari needs healing. Now."
    The druid nodded. She stared up from the shadows of her hood, her
lavender eyes glowing in the sunlight. She stepped forth, robes
swaying, holding a clay bowl. Within was steaming water thick with
healing herbs.
    "Help your sister drink," Alina said, offering the mug to
Laira. "This will give her strength."
    Laira accepted the medicine and tilted the bowl over Issari's lips.
    "Drink, sister." Gently, she poured the liquid into
Issari's mouth. "Drink a little."
    Issari twitched in her sleep, mumbled something unintelligible, and
sputtered. With Laira's guidance, the young woman drank a few sips,
coughed, and opened her eyes.
    At once Issari sprang up to a sitting position, her eyes widening.
"Demons!" she cried out. Her voice rang across the camp.
"An army of demons. We must flee. Dragons of Requiem! We—"
    Her eyes rolled back, and Laira had to catch her to stop her from
falling. Gently, she pulled the girl closer to King's Column and
propped her up against the pillar. Issari flitted between sleep and
wakefulness, mumbling about an unholy host, of her father's cruelty,
and of an evil to destroy the world.
    Laira sat by her sister, gently letting her sip her medicine, holding
her close as she trembled. Finally Issari sat with open eyes,
breathing deeply, her hand clutching Laira's. Her cheeks were still
pale, and blood still stained her tunic and hair.
    When the others stepped closer, Laira waved them back. "Give us
room! Let her breathe."
    Issari took deep breaths, calming herself. Laira allowed only Jeid to
step close. The king knelt before Issari, his eyes somber.
    "How far is this demon army?" he said, voice low.
    Issari swallowed, squeezed Laira's hand, and spoke softly. "I
don't know. I shook them off three days ago in a dark forest. I've
been flying since, seeking Requiem. If I found it, they'll find it
too. They can pick up any scent; their noses are more powerful than
any hound's. I disguised my scent with a bear's pelt, but they'll
smell this place." She shivered. "They'll smell us, or
they'll see the pillar rising from the forest, and they'll be here
soon. Already their scouts scour the land. They will not stop."
She trembled. "My father will never stop hunting us. He's fallen
to madness."
    After a moment of silence, everyone started talking at once.
    "We fly and take them head-on!" Dorvin was shouting, a grin
splitting his face.
    "We should flee and hide!" said Bryn, a young woman with
fiery red hair.
    One man was trembling. "We're all going to die. Oh stars, we're
all going to die."
    Voices rose and soon everyone was crying out as one, demanding to
flee, fight, or surrender. Jeid was urging