The Game of Faces had always been Ren Ashforde's favorite. Though staring at Papa's careful expression—his broad fingers tapping against his thigh, his sharp chin set a touch too tight—he supposed it was more The Game of Bodies.

"Nervous?" Ren guessed.

Papa smiled. "Very good, what about this?" His brow furrowed beneath his short-cropped hair that was beginning to gray at the edges, his lips drawn to a thin line.

"Fear!"

Papa chuckled, his expression smoothing before his brow dropped dangerously, a muscle jumping beneath his dark skin as he set his jaw.

The jaw. Always the jaw first. Papa had taught him.

"That one's easy, anger!"

Ren saw that expression all the time in the Emperor's guards that marched past their home.

Papa's face transformed into Ren's favorite expression—pride. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, ruffling Ren's hair.

Ren shifted on the pillow beneath the window; dappled morning light streamed in, catching the motes of dust drifting in the humid air. The stiltpalms outside swayed in the cool breeze coming off the ocean below, skimmers filling the air as they made low passes across the water, bills dipping below the surface to capture a meal. The cottage still smelled of Mama's breakfast—the char at the edges of the fish she always said was intentional, the bright, sharp smell of the citrus she squeezed over while it was still hot. It smelled like every morning Ren had ever known. Mama herself was out gathering supplies for tonight's dinner in the market of their town.

Millhaven was a small cluster of buildings built on a larger island in the Empire. The homes were all built of the same wood, bamboo, and thatch as Ren's own. A communal space stood at the center of the village, housing everything from weddings to parties to merchants hawking wares during the trading season.

Papa's gaze drifted out the window. "What do you think she's feeling, son?" he asked, nodding.

Ren followed his gaze. A woman had tied her small canoe to the dock, a short hike down to the water's edge from his home. A bamboo rod lay across her shoulders, and from it hung fish of various sizes. Sweat beaded along her forehead, though her face was relaxed. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, two kids pulling at her skirts as she trudged up the hill. Miss Sharel's husband had been taken by the Emperor's guards some time ago, and Ren wasn't sure when the man would return.

"She's happy," Ren said, a smile creasing his lips.

"Full nets are always a good thing," Papa agreed. "She carries a lot of weight, you can see it in her eyes."

At first, Ren assumed Papa was talking about the fish, but following his gaze, Ren realized Papa was watching the kids. Studying Papa's face, Ren wasn't sure what emotions he was feeling; it was sadness, but underneath it, something heavier—a tightness, a stillness around the eyes that Ren had never seen on Papa's face before and didn't know how to name

Before Ren could ask, feet slapped the stone path outside, and the door to their cottage was thrown open. Mama stepped inside, slamming it behind her, Papa already standing. Her brow was furrowed, her fist clenched, her lip pulled slightly in.

Why was Mama scared?

"They're coming," she said, meeting Papa's gaze.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She nodded; the muscles in Papa's face tightened several times before he stepped over to the center of the cottage, leaning down to pull open the secret cubby beneath the floorboards.

"Who's coming?" Ren asked, his brow furrowing as he glanced between his parents.

Mama drew a single breath through her nose. He watched her face the way Papa had taught him—and caught something there, quick and gone before he could name it. Then her face had settled.

Mama stepped over to him, taking Ren's hand and leading him toward Papa as he opened the hatch. "Ren, we're going to play a game of hide and seek."

"Right now?"

Mama nodded, turning him toward her as she knelt to meet his gaze. "Do you remember how guests who play have to be really, really quiet?"

Ren nodded, his breathing growing shallow.

"You need to do the same." Her chin had started to quiver as if she were on the verge of tears.

Ren was in her arms a moment later, her embrace warm and tight. She smelled of the herbs she used in her cooking, the delicate spices that danced across his tongue, the sweet soaps she preferred when she bathed. She smelled like home.

"Mama? What's going on?" Ren asked.

Papa's hand came to rest on Ren's shoulder. "We need to go, hun." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Ren hugged himself as Mama let go, her hands framing his face, her eyes wet as a tear tracked down her cheek. Ren's chest clenched as she smiled, though he knew she was doing it for him. "I love you, Ren. No matter what you hear, you stay hidden, okay? Promise me."

"I promise," Ren said, his voice wavering, Mama's thumb brushing his cheek, then as if someone had reached inside Ren and blown away his concerns, his fear evaporated like mist on a hot day. Staring into Mama's eyes, for just a moment, he felt something—a connection. Beneath the feeling of resolve that filled him, he could feel a depth, but not his own; it was as if he were feeling Mama's emotions.

The feeling vanished before he could understand what had happened. When Mama pulled back, her jaw had stilled—but her eyes were more stricken than before. He didn't know the word for what he saw. Mama's kiss upon his forehead was as delicate as a thread moth's wing, and then they helped him down into the cubby, Ren feeling oddly empty despite the tears drying on his cheeks.

Mama met Ren's eyes one last time before leaving, Papa still holding open the hatch. Ren could hear Mama crying softly.

Papa smiled, but the tension in his face never quite released—a tell Ren had never seen on the practiced face before him. "I promise, everything will be okay. We love you, Ren."

With that, the door was closed, leaving Ren in near darkness. Light filtered through the floor above, though in spotted patches, illuminating a small sitting room carved into the earth. On shelves sat dried provisions and even some bedding—they'd have guests over who preferred sleeping down here instead of in the beds above. They liked the coziness, Papa had said.

The front door crashed open above, and Ren had to clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle the yell forming in his throat. He stumbled back from the hatch, sitting on the low bench, pulling his knees up to his chest, hand still clamped tight.

Yelling echoed down from above, the stomping of feet—multiple feet. It was as if the Emperor's guards had stormed his house, but why would they?

A high-pitched scream was cut short—that couldn't have been Mama, could it?—followed by the thump of something large slamming against the floor above. Dust drifted in tight spirals down into Ren's hiding spot.

Papa's deep voice filled the house, though Ren couldn't make out the shape of the words.

Something large was overturned and slammed against the floor—the table, perhaps?

Whatever sensation Ren had felt with his mother was quickly evaporating. He drew his legs closer to his chest, trembling as he stared at the hatch.

Footsteps sounded again, retreating into the distance, though Ren hadn't heard the front door close behind them.

He sat on the low bench with his knees drawn up and waited. Above him, the sounds had stopped, and nothing had replaced them—no voices, no footsteps, not even the creak of the boards he knew by heart.

Papa would come. Papa always came.

He started counting. The numbers went wobbly around thirty, and he lost them and started again. Cold stone, damp earth, the smell of provisions Mama had stacked on the shelves. He found the drip of water somewhere in the dark and counted that instead. He counted everything he could find.

Papa didn't come.

He kept waiting for something to happen. Where had they gone?

Finally, when he reached fifty, he stood up, approaching the ladder. Papa had taught him that when things seemed big and scary, it took a special courage to stand up for those who couldn't stand for themselves. Was this the moment he was talking about?

He climbed high enough to push open the hatch, just enough to see out, squinting against the blinding sunlight streaming in through the open front door. Why had it been left open?

"Mama? Papa?" Ren called out, though no one answered him as he climbed out from the cubbyhole.

Ren swallowed. The table lay on its side. A dark red pool had spread across the floor and into the cracks between the boards. He stood very still, waiting for the thing he was seeing to become something he recognized.

A chorus of shouts filtered in from outside. Ren glanced from the pool to the table; something was clearly wrong. He took several long, deep breaths, raising his chin as Papa had taught him, and stepped out into the sunlight.

Their home sat on a small clearing overlooking the warm ocean, the waves gently lapping at the rocky shore, the smell of salt sharp in the air. Ren shielded his eyes, following the source of the sound down the path toward the main square of the village.

The square was packed with people; Empire guards in their distinctive metal armor stood on the raised dais at its head.

Several guards were dragging two people through the crowd, Mama's blue dress catching the light.

Ren sucked in a breath and was running before he fully understood why. What were they doing? Why were Mama and Papa being hauled away?

The massive trees shading the village swayed in the morning wind, long limbs grasping at Ren as he approached the square. At the heart of the village was the resonance tree, its dark bark grown over centuries around the crystals embedded within; the gems' faces catching the light and refracting it back across the gathered assembly.

"People of Millhaven!" The voice of a guard thundered across the square, the people growing quiet as Ren arrived. "You have grown complacent! You've not only allowed a smuggler among your ranks—you've allowed a Binder to become part of your community!"

Ren went still at the edge of the square, his brow furrowing in confusion as Mama and Papa were hauled up onto the dais. Binders? What did the man mean? They were his parents!

Papa swayed as they held him firm; scarlet ran down his face from a jagged wound in his forehead, his arms roughly bound behind him. Mama was pushed to the edge of the platform, her arms free of bindings, the crowd around Ren hushing further. Her face held an emotion Ren immediately recognized—she was scared.

Her gaze met Ren's, and even from here, he could see her eyes widen in surprise. The lead soldier—the one who had been yelling—grabbed the front of her dress and, in one swift motion, ripped it open.

The crowd gasped as the garment fell away, and Ren could only stare in confusion at the small glittering gem embedded between her breasts. The gem looked similar to the ones growing in the resonance tree, but why would she have one of those in her chest? The gem pulsed softly, visible even in the bright sunlight as the guard forced Mama to her knees.

The crowd started screaming.

"She's been manipulating us—all of us!"

"Thread-walker! Mind-thief!"

"She knew—she always knew what we were feeling!"

Ren had heard thread-walker before—the village kids said it when they talked about things that waited in the dark. Those things were monsters. Those things weren't Mama.

Rotten fruit flew, smearing red against Mama's sun-golden skin and torn dress.

She gasped as a stone struck her at the temple, and bright red blood began to flow.

"Mama!" Ren cried, pushing his way toward her, his cry lost in the tumult of voices.

Papa was forced down beside Mama, crimson spilling down his face.

The crowd noise dropped at the raised hand of the lead soldier. "Let it be known that the Emperor keeps his peace!" he announced. "If you find Binders among yourselves, you are duty-bound to come forward and share your knowledge. His servants will bring order to your lands!" He unhooked the axe from his back, its broad head trailing a slow arc as he stepped toward her.

Ren's frantic "No!" was lost beneath the yelling of the crowd, calling for Mama's blood.

He shoved, and someone gave way, and for one moment the bodies parted—Mama's eyes found his, there and gone. He continued to shove and make his way to her, but he'd be too late; he couldn't help her.

The bodies parted enough for Ren to see Mama again; her smile forced even to his eyes. Her hand held the bracelet she always wore, the one she'd made and worn since his birth, a gem of the resonance tree blazing brightly between her fingers. Her mouth moved in a way that was all too familiar to Ren, and though he couldn't hear, he knew what she said—I love you, Ren.

The axe rose above her.

The gem in her chest blazed—then went dark.

Her eyes grew unfocused, the light leaving them before the axe even fell. But her fingers tightened around the bracelet one last time before it fell from limp fingers into the crowd below.

"Mama!" Ren's wail was lost beneath the crowd's cheers, a person jostling Ren. He didn't see, but he heard the whoosh of the axe, followed by a hollow thump.

Ren dove into the surging crowd, trying to reach her. A woman knelt before him. Her gaze dropped for just a moment before her hand closed around something at her feet. Then she stood, turning and taking his arm, pulling him back through the crowd.

"What are you doing?!" Ren demanded. "Let me go! Mama! Papa!"

"I'm sorry," she said as Ren wrenched helplessly against her grip. "You don't want to see this."

She had him now, pulling him back, and he couldn't get free. Something was happening in his chest. He couldn't hear right, couldn't see straight. Above the crowd, the axe was rising above his father's kneeling form, the blade red.

"Papa!" Ren wailed, making another desperate attempt to free himself from the woman's grasp.

The woman pulled him into her arms, his face pressed against her chest, though it did nothing to stifle the noise as the axe came down again over his father's kneeling form.

"I'm sorry," she was saying over and over again as they fled the square and ran toward the docks.

Ren's hand stretched toward the stage, the cheers of the crowd washing over him as the woman's feet thundered over wooden planks. Then Ren was lowered into a small boat, his body still shaking, crying, his chest heaving. "Mama," he cried.

The woman sat across from him, the boat rocking gently in the shallow, still water. A single tear had tracked down her cheek; her eyes red as she took Ren's hand in hers, pressing something into his. She held it there for a moment.

She squeezed his hand once, a smile creasing her lips, before taking the oars and rowing them into open water.

Ren wept, his fist tightening around the thing she had given him.

Between his tightened fingers, a gem glimmered—his mother's bracelet. It was warm to the touch, and he held it to his cheek.

For just a moment, it was as if his mother were there with him, her embrace holding him, her lips kissing the top of his head. Then the feeling was gone, leaving behind an emptiness that made Ren clutch his chest.

They had told him to be brave, to stay hidden.

They had told him everything would be all right.

They'd been wrong.

The guards had called Mama a Binder, but he couldn't possibly reconcile the demons that haunted the village tales—people who could manipulate emotions—with his loving parents.

Something was deeply wrong with the stories the kids had told him. Looking at the woman across from him through tear-stained eyes, he saw the same gem in her chest, glimmering just above the neckline of her dress.

Ren had no idea who she was, but if she could provide answers about Mama, he'd listen.

She noticed him staring and smiled. "I'm Maren, by the way."

Ren sniffled, wiping his nose. "Ren." His voice was barely above a whisper, the boat rocking gently with each stroke of the oars, the village he'd grown up knowing disappearing behind her.