The men spilled out of the doorway, disappearing into the inky darkness of night. The muggy air rushed in, and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, relishing the smell of heat and night—much better than sweaty man bodies.

“Want me to walk you home?” Arnik asked, joining me at the end of the bar.

His familiar voice brushed over me, making me smile, as he drew closer. Arnik and I had been friends forever. Best friends. Our histories were so enmeshed I couldn’t imagine life without him. We’d grown up next door to each other, played together, and confided in each other. Everyone in Harvest Zone Seven knew everyone, but I didn’t have any close friends other than Arnik. Most people found me a bit useless, I think. Or maybe I’d killed their potato plants at some point. People were fiercely protective of their potato crops in Verald.

“Sorry, Son. Ryn is staying on. I need her help,” Dyter said, sliding a long bench on top of a table using his sole arm and a bump of his hip. “This place is a mess thanks to your revolutionary puppies.”

I did my best not to smirk at the owner’s jab at Arnik’s new friends. I tended to keep to myself, but this was no reflection on Arnik’s abundant social life. Of late, he’d gravitated toward young males full of indignant rage at the king and those who declared a burning need for glory.

Lips twitching, I turned to Arnik. “You’re on your own for the walk. I’ll see you tomorrow, though. Mum said there are deliveries to make, and I know your ma’s been asking for soap.”

I could make soap, a skill I was quite proud of, actually. Unfortunately, nearly everyone could make it, so I probably wouldn’t be the soap queen of Harvest Zone Seven when I married.

“I’m pruning the pinot gris vines in the southern fields tomorrow,” Arnik reminded me. “For all the good it’ll do. Half of them are withered and black. The roses at the end of the rows haven’t bloomed in years.”

Arnik’s gentle reminder made me sigh. At eighteen, he had adult responsibilities. Two weeks had passed, but I still tended to forget our schedules didn’t match anymore. I’d been hoping he’d help me let the Tals’ donkey out of its stall.

“Maybe you could come by for my supper break?” he asked in a rush.

He accompanied the question with an intense look, and I gave him a blank one in return. Why would I come to see him in the southern fields? We’d never . . . That would mean . . . I flushed.

“Aye, now, lad. I told you to clear out.” Dyter bustled over, his presence pushing Arnik out the back door. “And no more telling those upstart laddies ’bout the meetings here. If you think the houses of Ers, Ets, and Als are interested in joining, you let me know and I’ll decide if they can come, but you had the third son of Tal here.” Dyter’s voice showed exactly what he thought of the third son of Tal. The serious undercurrents to his words were unmistakable. The tavern owner rarely laid down the law, but when he did, he expected us to fall in line. I supposed that was why Dyter was so high up in the rebellion. He had a natural air of command.

“I thought you were recruiting,” Arnik said, turning his frown on Dyter. “If Cal is really, truly coming, everyone will want to meet him. We could recruit a heap more to the cause if we told people. My friends want to help.”

Dyter wiped the sheen from his shaved head. “Aye. We’re recruiting, but only those willing to fight with their hands and weapons, not their ruddy mouths. The Tals won’t fight. They’re toadies of the king, boy. No sense in having young Talrit come spy for his father and uncles. You’ll earn us a one-way ticket to the king’s dungeons. Know how many people survive his dungeons?” He walked away, shouting over his shoulder, “None!”

Arnik inhaled at the cutting words. Now that he was eighteen, just like the other young men, he hated being treated like he was seventeen.

Dyter was right, though. Everyone knew which houses were in the king’s pocket, and the House of Tal was one of them. The Tals had a constant supply of food and goods, which in the depths of the hunger meant they were obscenely rich and, as such, disconnected with the plight of the likes of peasants. Why would the House of Tal ever revolt against King Irdeldon?

“Talrit is not a spy.” Arnik’s pale skin blotched as his temper rose.

Pretty soon he’d be yelling, and the argument would go nowhere. Besides, Arnik needed to leave or he’d run the risk of breaking curfew.

Arnik clenched his fists and leaned forward, gearing up to fight. “We’ve been friends—”

For two weeks. I grabbed his arm and said, “You’d better go. You’re cutting curfew too close.” I raised my eyebrows at Dyter, a pointed look meant to tell him to stop. Thankfully, he understood and turned toward the kitchen, mumbling something about grabbing a mop.

“Come on,” I said, leading Arnik to the door. “You know how Dyter gets when new people come. You can’t keep bringing everyone who says they’re unhappy.”

“But, Cal—”

The elusive Cal, the rebel leader. Everyone speculated he was someone from the late queen’s family. Queen Callye died before I was born, but the stories were that she helped the people. Of course, Irdelron killed her and sent her entire family to the front lines of the war to be slaughtered. Even their son was sent off to battle when he came of age. His own son.

The rebels had taken up her family name, and the leader was our one hope for salvation, or so everyone older than me said. “No one even knows who Cal is. No one knows what he looks like, not even Dyter. He sends messages by courier and never the same one twice. We don’t know if Cal is even his real name.”

Despite the rebel meetings Dyter held at The Crane’s Nest, my involvement was half-hearted at best. I mean, I wanted Dyter and Arnik to win, and I wanted to catch a glimpse of the mysterious Cal, but I wasn’t itching to fight. I’d do my part if it came to it. But it seemed like a hopeless cause. No one could defeat the king’s Drae.

I tugged Arnik to the door. “Dyter says Cal will only reveal himself to those he knows are loyal, so you can’t keep bringing new people in. If you want to meet him, you’re going to have to stop.”

I pushed the door open, and the moonlight settled upon my shoulders. My insides shuddered with yearning, a sensation that was growing stronger every day. I longed to step over the threshold into the night. Resisting the urge, I instead pulled myself back to the present. “You don’t have to agree, but you should show Dyter some respect. He’s higher up in the ranks than you.” As in, you’re barely in the ranks.

Arnik leaned forward and whispered, “All this talk of Cal . . . Don’t you want to see him? Do you really believe we can overthrow the entire kingdom because of one man?” He sounded doubtful. “The king has Lord Irrik, after all, and Cal is no Drae.”

There was only one Drae in Verald, so that was obvious. I shivered. Talk of Lord Irrik gave me the willies. “Be careful walking back,” I said, glancing at the beautiful, silky night. “You heard Dyter. The Drae has been spotted in the skies.”

“Do you think he’ll incapacitate me with his magic breath and chew on my bones?” Arnik asked.

I snorted and shoved him out the door, but cold terror shot through me at the line from our mothers’ stories. If the Drae was flying in the dark sky, Arnik wouldn’t even see him until it was too late. Drae could shift from dragon to man, or vice-versa, in the blink of an eye.

Arnik took a few steps and turned back, hands shoved in his pockets. “I won’t bring any more friends, but tell Dyter to stop being an old fool,” he said, oblivious to my fear of the Drae. “We need all the help we can get for the rebellion, even if it is from the third son of Tal.”

I had no desire to do dishes for the rest of my life, so I’d say nothing of the sort. I was getting tired of being stuck in the middle of these two. With a sigh, I shook my head at my friend.

A small, half smile pulled at his lips as he took the few steps back. Placing his hand against my cheek, he said, “I’m sorry, Rynnie.”

His skin was warm, and although the gesture was foreign to our friendship, there was comfort in Arnik’s touch.

“I shouldn’t put you between us,” he murmured. Without waiting for a response, he gave me a boyish wink and slipped into the laneway, his dark clothing blending with the thick shadows from the neighboring stone buildings. His golden hair reflected the moonlight, a beacon for only a second before he pulled his dark hood up, covering his head.

I’d heard Lord Irrik could hear a person exhale from a mile away and could see the warmth within a human body when all sunlight was gone. It was unlikely a cap would help, but it made me feel a little better.

I tossed my rag over my shoulder and went back inside.

Dyter had made quick work of the cleanup. The bench seats were all stacked. I suspected the tables hadn’t been wiped. They’d be sticky by morning from the ale and stew, but I couldn’t lift the benches myself, and Dyter wouldn’t shift them a second time tonight. I’d just have to wipe the spots I could get to. Teamwork at its finest.

Dyter pushed through the swinging door with a mop and a pail. He grinned, and the scar on the left side of his face pulled his upper lip higher so he looked like he was snarling maniacally. “How worked up was the lad?” he asked with a chuckle. “Truthfully.”

I scrubbed at the wood smoothed from generations of elbows and sliding tankards. “You always stir him up and leave me to deal with it.”

I stomped past him to the next table, but he laughed, and I had to work to hide my amusement. I’d known Dyter longer than Arnik, as far back as my memory went. The tavern owner was part father, part uncle, and part friend. He’d helped Mum settle in when she’d arrived in Verald—when I was a baby—and he’d been close to us ever since.

We cleaned the bar area in silence, the familiar companionship its own brand of communication. But the meeting tonight was still a burning mystery to me, and when I couldn’t stand the silence any longer, I asked, “How did it go?”

Sure enough, he grinned his lip-pulling snarl. “How did what go?”

I threw my rag at his face.

He gave mercy, tossing me the soiled cloth back. “Oh, the rebel meeting? It went well.” He paused before amending with, “Very well. Now is the time to overthrow King Irdelron and the House of Ir. I feel it. The king is desperate to find something to end the famine, and it weakens him.”

“He cares about ending the hunger?” Contradictory, considering his brutality.

“He cares about staying alive and keeping his arse on the throne, Ryn. There are many things you can do to people without them rebelling, but starving them isn’t on the list. As cruel and rich as King Irdelron is, he’s not an idiot. The situation is nearing a boiling point. More people have joined our cause in the last three months than the last three years.”

I thought about the last few months as I scrubbed at the sticky ale. Nothing seemed different. People were starving now, just like they had been last year and the year before that. “How do you know he’s desperate?”

“You haven’t noticed the extra soldiers?” Dyter stopped his cleaning to raise his brows. “What about the extra beatings?”

I shook my head, averting my gaze. I wasn’t really into the rebellion, but I should’ve noticed extra beatings.

Dyter pursed his lips and leveled me with a serious stare. “What about the giant black Drae circling the skies?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course.” Only, I hadn’t. Mild anxiety pushed the next question from my lips. As much as I liked to tease about Dyter being an old coot, he was like family. “In that case,” I continued, “are you sure you should be having rebel meetings here?”

Dyter shrugged. “People meet up here on a day-to-day basis. To the outsider, there’s nothing amiss.” His face darkened. “As long as Arnik stops bringing pups in.”

But there was truth in Arnik’s argument, too. “You need the pups, old man. They have young bodies that can fight.”

Dyter gave a grudging nod.

I hated upsetting him. “But they can’t do without the experience and wisdom of you oldies.” I smiled as he puffed his chest out a bit. “So,” I continued, sliding my gaze his way, “are you excited to meet Cal?”

Dyter let out a belly laugh that spread to every faded and worn part of the tavern. “You saw the boy by the door. I thought he was going to wet himself with excitement.”

I joined him in laughter. “I thought he’d faint from the mere mention of Cal’s name.” I wasn’t about to admit I’d shovel horse plop for three hours straight to be able to meet the leader of the rebellion. Now, that would be exciting. More excitement than I’d had since the Tals’ donkey escaped their stable and went on a bender about town, kicking the stalls in the market over—I wanted to let it out again.

When the last glass was put away, Dyter held his hand out for my washrag. “You stayin’ the night?”

I had a room upstairs, something Mum had insisted on when I started working at The Crane’s Nest. Curfew was strict here, and the penalties if caught depended on the soldier’s mood at the time. Over the last year, I’d felt a deep pull to be outside in the darkness, and Dyter’s thatched roof didn’t have a window I could see the night sky from.

Dyter knew I didn’t sleep well here, so he never pushed.

“Mum is expecting me. She might already be pacing the floor.” The last was said in jest as we both knew she wouldn’t be. Ryhl didn’t get anxious. She either did something or she didn’t, but she didn’t waste energy on worrying.

“Al’right then. Best scoot out. Be careful, my girl.”

There was a real strain in his voice on the last four words. I gave him a quick peck on the cheek because I knew he secretly loved it even though he always waved me away. I grabbed a piece of brak to nibble on the way home and waved goodbye, stepping out into the moonlight.

“Oh,” Dyter called.

I swung around to look at him, mouth stuffed with brak.

He came to the door, his lip lifted in his gruesome smile. “You’ll want to be here tomorrow night.”

My heart hammered. What? “Why? Will he be here?” I spoke around the food, spitting some on the ground. If Cal came, I’d probably die of excitement.

Dyter grinned and slammed the door in my face. I listened as he retreated into the depths of the tavern, chuckling at his hilarious wit.

I stared at the solid wooden door. He wouldn’t have said anything if Cal wasn’t coming here, would he? My gut told me no. Holy pancakes! A squeal built inside of me, but I opted instead to punch-dance on the spot.

The rebel leader was coming tomorrow night.

Beaming, I faced toward home and stepped into the caress of the dark shadows.