I had fallen asleep again, awaking to the sound of birds chirping. It must have been morning. I yawned and stretched, each bruise a screaming reminder of my ordeal.

"You sleep a lot."

The small voice startled me, and I scrambled to a sitting position. It was Nirrin, parked on the chair right next to me. I wondered if there was a tactful way to tell a little girl that watching people sleep was creepy.

Bren saved me by entering the room bearing a small tray of food. "Nirrin, what did I tell you about pestering the poor girl?"

Nirrin turned back to me, grinned, and said, "Bye!" before scurrying out the door.

"Always getting into trouble, that one," Bren muttered as she set the tray down. "How are you feeling, dear?"

"Much better, thank you." The pounding in my head had finally stopped. All I had left were the cuts and bruises. I could easily take care of them myself, but then they would know. Best if I let them heal slowly on their own.

She nodded and gestured to the tray. "Eat up. You must be hungry."

Starving, I eagerly pulled the tray close and started shoving berries into my mouth.

Bren regarded me as I ate, her eyes noting my skinny arms and gaunt face. "I imagine they didn't feed you well over there."

I looked at her, then looked away and broke off a piece of corn cake in my mouth.

"Siena . . ." Her voice was gentle, probing. "Were you a captive?"

I stopped chewing. My eyes slid to her face. It looked warm and caring. Maybe I could trust Bren. I gave a small nod and resumed chewing, avoiding further eye contact.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. You and your mother had no control over what happened."

I nodded and continued eating.

There was a long pause, then she asked, "May I ask what happened to your mother?"

No. Too personal. My mother's face on the day of her execution loomed into my mind. They'd forced her onto her knees, hands behind her back. Chief Magar made me watch, gripped my shoulders himself, forced my head when I turned away.

"This is what happens when you hide Aberrations," he growled.

Anguished tears streamed down her face, not over her own life, but for me. She knew life for me would be an unhappy one. She didn't want to leave me alone with them.

Grash stood behind her, a large axe above his head, poised for its fatal swing.

"Stay strong, Siena." Those were her last words to me.

The axe fell, my eyes squeezed shut, and the air was still except for the sickening shunk.

I blinked away the tears and glanced at Bren, who was watching me with sympathetic eyes. My hands balled into fists, and I choked down the food in my mouth. My jaw clenched, and the only answer I could give was stony silence.

"I see," she said, as if I had spoken. "I'm sorry. I'll leave you to your breakfast."

After Bren left, I pushed the tray away. A tear slid down my cheek. My mother only tried to protect me, and they killed her for it. She died because of me.

I lay on my side facing the wall and pulled the blanket up. Curling my knees to my chest, I let the sadness engulf me in its shadowy embrace.