THE SILVER EYED SURGEThe morning after the news about Damon broke, the camp felt like it was holding its breath. The air was cold and damp, sticking to my skin. I couldn't stay in my tent. My head was spinning with thoughts of traitors and poison. I went to the wash basins at the edge of the clearing, hoping the cold water would wake me up.

I was splashing my face when I felt that familiar, prickly sensation on the back of my neck. Someone was watching me.

"You look tired, human," a voice said. ...