Matilda's pov

The cold made the dawn fragile. As the rogues split off into smaller groups to tend to fires or sharpen blades, the frost clung to the grass and glistened slightly in the dim light.

I wrapped my cloak as tightly as I could to avoid drawing too much attention, yet eyes were watching me everywhere. Some are staring, some are suspicious, and some are just hostile.

I persuaded myself that I had become accustomed to it. Even still, each whisper continued to feel like nettles ...