Matilda's pov

That morning, everyone in the camp felt uneasy.

Too quiet. Still too much.

Suspicion, rage, and terror were all mixed together like smoke in the air. I heard whispers everywhere I looked. Every phrase ends with Maya's name.

"She works for Rhys."

"Maybe it's true; Michael hasn't spoken a word."

"She's done."

Finished.

My gut was clenched thinking of the word.

Maya was elevating her chin and leaning back behind the council tent, but I could see ...