"...Do you think they wanted to kidnap you?" Peony asked. "Or...?"
Theora hesitated, poking around her plate without much conviction. It was their last morning at the camp, and the atmosphere was solemn for breakfast that day. Darim had put them through a wringer that would have made Lastarck proud with his exercises, but no matter how hungry they'd been by the time physical training was over, the mood had cooled down again, the events of the night hanging over their heads. Some were worried, some were still shocked, and everyone was too tired to talk. Even if they hadn't been pushed to their limits by the morning exercise, no one had slept well after the attack. Peony had kept waking up in fright in their tent, and though she hadn't said anything about it, Theora had woken up each time,
