But Veroc's eyes tracked the movement, noticed the way she was holding herself. His nostrils flared, and his expression shifted to something speculative.
"That one," he said, pointing at her. "She carries something. Power that doesn't belong to her."
Eliam moved to step in front of her, but three warriors blocked him, spears pressing against his chest hard enough to draw drops of blood through his shirt.
"Don't," Thaine warned quietly, his own weapon half-drawn but frozen as two warriors held blades to his throat.
"Bind them," Veroc ordered. "All of them."
The warriors moved with practiced efficiency, producing restraints that looked like twisted metal but felt alive against Briar's skin when they closed around her wrists. The moment they locked, her connection to the warmth dimmed, like trying to reachsomething through thick glass. Magic-suppressing restraints, designed to hold even powerful fae.
Eliam fought when they tried to bind him, shadows lashing out, thorns erupting from the ground. It took six warriors to subdue him, and even then only when one pressed a blade to Briar's throat, using her as leverage.
"Stop," she said, meeting his eyes across the chaos. "Please."
The please did what violence couldn't. He went still, allowing them to lock the restraints around his wrists, though his expression promised retribution. The shadows retreated reluctantly, coiling around his feet like angry cats.
Arion submitted more peacefully, though his light flickered in dangerous patterns. Sian and Halian were bound without resistance, Halian still too deep in grief to care what happened. Thaine required four warriors and took two down before they managed to restrain him, leaving one warrior with a broken nose and another clutching a dislocated shoulder.
Only Karse remained unbound, Veroc studying him with disappointment.
"You won't fight for them?" Veroc asked.
"Fighting you would only get them killed," Karse replied. "I know better than to challenge Ka'tar warriors on their own ground."
"You've grown soft." Veroc's contempt was palpable. "The Karse I knew would have fought anyway, just for the glory of it."
"The Karse you knew was young and stupid."
"And now you're old and weak." Veroc gestured to the warriors. "Bind him too. The Council will decide if he's even still Drak enough to stand trial."
They bound Karse without resistance, though Briar saw the way his claws extended slightly, the way his muscles coiled with suppressed violence. He was choosing not to fight, choosing to submit, and she wondered what that cost him.
"The weapons," Veroc ordered.
The warriors stripped them of everything—swords, daggers, even the small knife Briar had hidden in her boot. They were particularly interested in Thaine's blade, passing it between them with reverent touches, speaking in their own language with tones of recognition.
"Star-metal," one said in accented common. "Old. Blooded."
They handled the weapons with respect at least, wrapping them carefully rather than tossing them aside. Small comfort, but Briar would take what she could get.
"Move," Veroc commanded, and the warriors formed up around them in a pattern that was both escort and cage.
They were force-marched through the corrupted forest at a pace that had Briar stumbling within minutes. Her body still hadn't recovered from the confrontation with Ferria, from the expenditure of power that had killed her. Every step sent pain shooting through her skull, the concussion Ferria had given her making the world swim in and out of focus.
She tripped over a root that seemed to move deliberately into her path, would have fallen if not for the warrior assigned to her. He caught her arm, steadying her with surprising gentleness, though his expression remained stone.
"Keep up," he said, not unkindly. "It's three hours to the settlement. Four if you slow us down."
Three hours. Briar's legs already felt like water, her breath coming too fast, too shallow. The magic-suppressing restraints seemed to be draining more than just her connection to the warmth—they were sapping her physical strength too, making every movement feel like swimming through mud.
The forest grew worse as they traveled. Trees wept black sap that smelled of rot. Flowers bloomed in colors that hurt to look at directly. The air felt wrong, too thick, too warm, carrying whispers on wind that felt both cold and hot at the same time.
And through it all, Veroc's warriors moved without hesitation, following paths invisible to outsider eyes. They knew this corrupted land, had been living alongside it for centuries. The thought of what that must have been like, watching your territory slowly consumed by wrongness you couldn't stop, made Briar's chest tight with unexpected sympathy.
An hour in, Halian collapsed.
He went down hard, knees hitting the corrupted earth with a sound that made Briar wince. The grief and exhaustion had finally overwhelmed him, leaving him unable to continue.
