TENDING WOUNDSThe morning light in the mountains wasn't like the light in the city. It didn't hit the stone walls and bounce off; it seeped through the cracks of the cabin, soft and dusty.

Esmeralda woke up on the floor, her back against the King’s bedframe. Her joints ached. She stood up slowly, her bones popping in the quiet room. The fire had gone out, leaving only a cold, grey pile of ash.

She looked at her hands. They were trembling. Don't start, she told herself. If you start shaking ...