“I believe the Well has been hidden for too long,” Elan said finally, watching Jae carefully. “I think it’s time to find it, and I hope that once we do, we might be able to increase its magic, make it serve more people—including the people here. With your magic, Aredann can be saved. No one has to die.”

He smiled at her, a little relieved. He hadn’t given much thought to what would happen to the Closest after Aredann was abandoned, and dwelling on their deaths didn’t sit well with him. If it was necessary, then so be it—and the longer he spent at Aredann, the more he understood that it was. Just as his father had said, the drought made people desperate and scared, and Elan could see it all around him. There had to be enough water for everyone, and if there were too many people, there would have to be sacrifices. It was a nasty thought, but the Closest might have to die. But not if there was any other way, and now there was.

Jae still didn’t smile back at him. Her angry expression didn’t waver, didn’t lighten.

“What?” he finally demanded when he couldn’t stand her silent seething for another moment.

“I was going to save Aredann—from the drought, and from you. That’s why I hid those flowers. I don’t want to help you. I want you gone from here. Forever.”

Elan shook his head. Closest could never be left alone alive, with no Avowed guardian to keep watch over them. An enclave of uncontrolled Closest was dangerous. Surely Jae realized that much.

“Aredann will be saved either way. You’ll just have to live with that.”

She made a scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

“What?” Elan demanded again. Having to converse like this, to demand or ask a question instead of just talking, was maddening.

“I already know I have to live with it, Highest,” she spat, her voice still quiet but no less nasty for it. “I have no choice in the matter. I never did.”

Elan faltered again. No, she had no choice—but that didn’t matter. He was right about the Closest, and he would save Aredann. She wasn’t going to die, and neither was anyone else, as long as his plan worked. There was no reason for her to be so furious about it, and no point in arguing with her about it, either.

“I’m not ready to tell everyone what you can do, yet,” he said instead. “I want to know as much about your power as I can before I tell anyone. Does anyone else know about this?”

“My brother,” she said.

“Another Closest,” he said. “That’s good. You will not speak of this to anyone else—and make sure he doesn’t, either. Do you understand that?”

“Yes.” She glowered for a moment before adding, “Highest.”

He ignored the disrespect as he continued, “And there’s too much at risk here for me to let you wander about this estate alone. From now on, you’ll serve as my personal attendant, so I can keep an eye on you. Your brother can tend the grounds, or someone else. It doesn’t matter.”

That finally seemed to break through Jae’s wall of rage. Her gaze dropped, her shoulders hunched a little, and she nodded.

“And finally, you will not use magic unless I’m there to supervise you. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Highest,” she said.

“Make sure you remember—and that your brother knows, too.”

Again she nodded.

“Good.” But as he spoke, the hair at the back of his neck pricked up as if it were caught in a breeze, and his skin went oddly chilly. He shuddered, glancing around, sure someone was watching him from a window or—or something. But Jae was the only one there.

Jae, who still stood rigidly, again lifted her head to glare at him. She would obey him, though he had no doubt that she hated every single order he’d given her. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the magic.

He turned and swept back inside, knowing she’d follow.

Serving as Lord Elan’s personal attendant should have been an easy job, but Jae couldn’t stop seething. The work wasn’t physically demanding—just running errands for him, serving meals, and pouring drinks as she had during lunch recently. The rest of the time, instead of working outside, she waited nearby, silently mending a basketful of old clothing. Sewing wasn’t her strongest skill, but her mother had taught her along with Tal and Gali before she’d died. She’d explained that they had to be useful, prepared for any task at all, because they were so lucky. The rest of the Closest—dozens, maybe hundreds, from the way Gali described them—worked in the sun all day, tending the fields that kept Aredann alive. It was grueling, difficult labor, and the sun had even less mercy than the Avowed. Jae’s mother had always reminded her, no matter how much she hated the jobs she was given, she was still lucky.

She didn’t feel lucky. Not if all being lucky meant was suffering less than the others, with just as little choice in the matter. Not if being lucky meant sitting in a room with Avowed who didn’t care that the Closest were all going to die, who saw her as nothing but a set of hands to put to work, or worse, a body to use. Not if being lucky meant being near Rannith.

Lord Elan barely even glanced at her, caught up in the Avowed who were fawning over him. They acted as if they were grateful that he was going to force them to leave Aredann—as if it were a kindness he was doing for them, pulling them away from the only home they’d ever known. But maybe they did see it that way, because they were going to survive.

It didn’t help her any to think about what Lord Elan had said, that he’d use her power as a way to save Aredann and the Closest’s lives. Saving Aredann his way would mean the Avowed would stay, and the Closest would be ruled over by Lady Shirrad and the others forever. Nothing would ever change, and even though Jae had only been learning how to use her magic, she’d felt as if she’d been so close.

Now, ordered not to use magic without his supervision, her power wasn’t even her own. She’d only had it for a few days, and already it had been stolen from her.

She served the Avowed lunch and dinner. After dinner ended, Shirrad finally glanced at her, and stared for a moment. Even cleaned up, Jae knew she didn’t look like much: a stick figure in a plain tan shift, bare feet showing under the frayed hem. Shirrad frowned at her and then looked at Lord Elan. “I’m sorry I couldn’t provide you with a proper attendant, Highest. But are you certain that girl is…I’m sure I could find someone more suitable.”