Their gathering could be completely harmless, right? Maybe they’re homesick, like when the cadets from the Morraine province all spend a Saturday at the nearby lake just because it reminds them of the ocean they miss so much. Or maybe marked ones are plotting to burn Basgiath to the ground and finish what their parents started. I can sit up here and ignore them, but my complacency—my fear—could get people killed if they’re down there scheming. Telling Dain is the right thing to do, but I can’t even hear what they’re saying. Shit. Shit. Shit. Nausea churns in my stomach. I have to get closer.
