The dogs began barking at midnight. They did not bark at a stranger. They did not bark at a wolf. They barked at the air. They barked at the silence between the stars.

  Kaiden lay in bed. His eyes were open. He did not move. He listened to the rhythm of the village. Usually, the night had a pulse. The crickets. The wind. The settling of wood. Tonight, the pulse was erratic. The horses in the stable shifted their weight constantly. They snorted. They stamped. They smelled something the humans could not.

  Elena slept beside him. Her breathing was deep. She pretended to sleep. He knew she was awake. He did not disturb her.

  Kaiden slipped out of the bed. He pulled on his boots. He did not lace them. He tied them loose so he could kick them off quickly if he needed to run. He took his coat. He walked out the door. He did not make a sound.

  The air was cold. It was colder than it should have been for the season. The drought had stolen the moisture, but tonight the cold bit like winter. Kaiden walked to the edge of the village. He stopped at the old well. He looked into the darkness beyond the houses.

  He told himself he was checking the weather. He told himself he was worried about the crops. He did not admit it was a habit. He did not admit it was the instinct of a man who had survived ambushes in seven different kingdoms.

  Kaiden walked the perimeter. It took twenty minutes. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. But the feeling remained. It sat on the back of his neck like a hand.

  Kaiden thought: It is the wind. It is the drought. It is nothing.

  He knew it was not nothing.

  He returned to the cottage. He entered silently. He did not go to the bedroom. He went to the smaller room down the hall. He pushed the door open.

  Aria slept in the small bed. Her blanket was kicked down to her waist. Her breathing was soft. She looked peaceful. She looked innocent.

  Kaiden sat on the chair beside the bed. He did not touch her. He just watched. He watched the rise and fall of her chest. He watched the way her fingers curled into the sheet.

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  The shadows in the room were wrong. They did not match the light from the window. They drifted around her fingers like smoke. They curled around her wrists. They pulsed with a slow, rhythmic darkness. They were not afraid. They were waiting.

  Kaiden reached out. He hovered his hand over her arm. He did not make contact. He felt the cold radiating from the shadows. It was not the cold of death. It was the cold of the void.

  Kaiden whispered: Sleep.

  The shadows receded slightly. They obeyed him. They obeyed her. They were linked.

  Kaiden stood up. He pulled the blanket up. He tucked it around her shoulders. He kissed her forehead. She did not wake. He left the room. He closed the door softly.

  He went to the bedroom. Elena was sitting up. She did not light a candle. She sat in the dark. Her eyes reflected the faint light from the window.

  Elena said: Did you find anything?

  Kaiden said: Nothing.

  Elena said: The dogs are still barking.

  Kaiden said: They are restless. The drought makes them strange.

  Elena did not lie down. She watched him. She knew he was lying. She knew he had walked the perimeter. She knew he had checked the locks. She knew he was waiting for a fight.

  Elena said: Come to bed.

  Kaiden said: Soon.

  Elena said: Kaiden.

  Kaiden said: I will be there soon.

  Elena lay down. She turned her back to him. She did not sleep. He knew she was listening to his heartbeat. He knew she was counting the seconds between his breaths.

  Kaiden went back outside. He stood in the yard. The sky was beginning to lighten in the east. The stars were fading. The world was holding its breath.

  He looked at his hands. He looked at the scars. He thought about the men he had killed. He thought about the faces. Most of them were blurred. Time washed them away. But some remained. They remained clear. They remained loud.

  He closed his eyes. He said a name under his breath. It was a name he had not spoken in ten years. It was the name of the first man he had killed without reason. It was the name of the man who had taught him that mercy was a weakness.

  Kaiden whispered: Varic.

  The name hung in the air. It did not fade. It settled into the dirt. It settled into the wood of the cottage. It settled into his bones.

  He said it again.

  Kaiden whispered: Varic.

  It was not a prayer. It was not a apology. It was a acknowledgment. He was acknowledging that the man who killed Varic was still here. He was acknowledging that the man who planted crops was a mask.

  He opened his eyes. The sky was brighter. The sun was coming. But the light was not right. It was not gold. It was not white.

  The sky in the east was the color of old blood.

  It was a deep, bruised red. It stretched across the horizon. It looked like a wound that would not heal. It looked like a warning.

  Kaiden stared at it. He knew what it meant. It was not just the sunrise. It was the dust. It was the heat. It was the reflection of something coming over the ridge.

  Kaiden thought: It is just the drought dust. It is just the weather.

  He told himself the lie. He believed it for a moment. Then he did not.

  He turned back to the cottage. He walked to the door. He placed his hand on the latch. He did not go inside. He stood there for a long time. He listened to the dogs. They had stopped barking. They were whining now. They were hiding.

  Kaiden opened the door. He went inside. He locked it. He checked the bar. He checked the window latches. He went to the bedroom. He lay down beside Elena. He did not sleep.

  He did not tell Elena what he felt. He did not tell her about the name. He did not tell her about the sky. He kept it inside. He kept it where it could not hurt her.

  He lay in the dark. He waited for the sun. He waited for the noise. He waited for the end of the seven years.

  The sky in the east was the color of old blood. He told himself it was just the drought dust.

  He closed his eyes. He did not sleep.