Except Tal.

“What is it?” he asked, smirking a little, meeting Firran rudeness for rudeness. Closest didn’t order each other around, and they never asked each other questions.

Firran glared at him as he was compelled to answer, “I know who Lady Shirrad’s visitor is.” He waited a moment, and when no one else interrupted him, he continued in that same booming, pompous tone. “He is the son of one of the Highest, the grand warden of all reservoirs—Elan Danardae. His father sent him to tour Aredann to see our plight.”

“They already know our plight,” Gali muttered, not quite loud enough for Firran to hear—but Tal stifled a laugh. Jae stayed silent but had to agree. The Highest were the ones who’d cursed them, generations ago, when the Closest’s ancestors had rebelled. If they were sending someone to visit Aredann, it definitely didn’t have anything to do with the Closest’s desperation.

“No wonder the Lady was in such a tizzy today,” one of the others said. “But it’s good news, if the Highest are finally coming to our aid.”

“But they aren’t,” Firran said, some of the bluster dropping from his voice. “Lord Hannim told Lady Shirrad that there are other estates like Aredann, where the reservoirs are going dry. There’s not enough water, not even in the whole Well, so some estates are being cut off.”

“But there’s always been enough,” Asra said, voice creaky and unsure, as someone else said, “They can’t just cut off whole estates,” and someone else snapped, “I don’t understand; talk sense!”

Firran held up his hands, waiting for the commotion to work itself out. “They say there are too many people in the world now, more than ever before, and that’s why there’s not enough water anymore. All of the wardens agree, the Well can’t sustain everyone. So some estates…The Highest have decided to leave some estates entirely, take their Avowed and even the Twill and leave the rest of us here to die in the drought.”

This time, no one seemed to know what to say. It made a sickening, twisted kind of sense. If there were too many people in the world, then of course the Closest would be the ones left to die, to bring that number back down. Their ancestors had been spared all those years ago, allowed to live as slaves, so long as they were cursed so they could never rebel again—but the Highest would never hesitate to trade Closest lives for the rest of the world.

“That can’t be,” Tal said finally, standing, but even he sounded shaken. “Lady Shirrad would never leave Aredann to be abandoned.”

“You mean Lady Shirrad would never leave you,” Firran said. “They certainly won’t take the rest of us Closest.”

“She would never leave Aredann,” Tal repeated. “And the Well will provide. It has to. The Highest will make it.”

Firran shook his head. “Believe what you will, but I know what I heard. If the Highest order it, Lady Shirrad will have to obey. They’ll send the water somewhere else, Aredann will turn to dust without it, and we’ll all die here.”

Tal shook his head, but he didn’t argue. There was no point. Firran was telling the truth as well as he knew it. He spent more time with Lady Shirrad than any of the rest of them, even Tal, and he overheard all of the Avowed’s business. Jae didn’t like him, but she also didn’t doubt him. And if what he’d heard was true, then soon—maybe only days from now—all of the Closest at Aredann would be left alone, without the protection of the Well, and with no water, in the middle of a drought.

“Come to bed,” Gali murmured, wiping her sooty hand on her dress and leaving a smudged handprint, a new stain on a garment that hadn’t been cleaned in months. She offered that same hand to Tal, who accepted it but looked at Jae. He nodded toward the chamber they shared with a few others.

Jae followed them slowly, stiff and sore in a hundred different places, still thirsty and too warm after her day in the sun. Tomorrow would be just as bad, or worse. And so would every day after—somehow, it always seemed as if things got worse. Every day was hotter, drier, and longer, and the Curse had no mercy.

She thought about that as she lay down on her sleeping mat, a few hand spans from where Tal and Gali were now intertwined, exchanging comforting words so low that Jae couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Without the Well’s protection, the Closest would die in days, of sunsickness if not thirst. But if the Avowed all left Aredann, then there would be no one to give the Closest any orders. For those few, precious days, it would be almost like they were free. And maybe a few days of freedom would be better than a lifetime spent as a slave.

Elan Danardae slumped in his saddle and looked at the desert through the mesh across his face. Brown and orange rolled on in front of him endlessly, broken only by rock outcroppings. He’d have thought they were lost and wandering, if not for the occasional trees that had been planted to point the way—if they could even be called trees. They were only trunks, leafless and twisted into odd shapes, stunted reminders of better times before the drought, back when there had been enough water for everyone. Now the trunks were all that marked the way to Aredann, the edge of the world.

“Highest! Look!”

Elan squinted, barely able to see through the sun’s glare, despite the mesh that covered his face to keep out the worst of the sun and sand. At first, he couldn’t make out anything, then just a speck that grew more distinct as they came closer: cultivated land, and the Aredann reservoir and estate house.

As they drew closer, his tutor—his watchdog—Desinn drew up next to him and said, “I suggest you prepare yourself. We’re nearly there.”

Elan rolled his eyes, knowing Desinn wouldn’t be able to see it from under his hood, but nodded. Not that he could do much to prepare in the saddle, and he refused to stop just to change clothes, with Aredann finally so close. After four days of camping, sand caked his travel robe and the loose garments under it. It had worked its way inside his clothes, too, fine grit rubbing his skin raw. His demeanor, not his appearance, would have to impress Lady Shirrad Aredann.

“You should be aware. The messenger your father sent will surely have started rumors about the abandonment, and the Avowed at Aredann will turn to you to ask questions. Your role here—your only role—is to be your father’s warden, and remind them they must obey.” Desinn paused, smugness dripping from him like sweat. “Try to remember your vows.”