“And you had no part?” I bite out, hurting so much inside and unwilling to endure all the pain for this—all the blame. “Weren’t you the one who followed me and got us caught? Weren’t you the one who refused to escape with me when we first had a chance?”

She glares at me hatefully, and this almost makes her bland visiocrypter eyes look alive. Something else shines there, too—the awareness that I’m right. She can’t hide her guilt completely. And then I remember Cassian, and the love he felt for her. Knowing Miram will forever blame herself makes me feel worse. Even Tamra looks at me with such disappointment, and I feel awful.

Miram swipes at her nose with a sniff and fixes her gaze on the wall of the van.

Lia blows out a breath. “And I thought I had it bad with all the drama in my life.”

I look at Lia, this girl, this stranger. I don’t possess the energy to ask her about her life and where she comes from and what her drama could possibly be. Any other time I would have loved to meet a draki from another pride—to compare notes and find out if there was a better way of life outside my pride, away from Severin’s autocratic ways. But I can’t think about that now. Maybe later.

I lie on my side, slide my hand beneath my cheek, and stare blindly. Strange, I’ve left the enkros stronghold behind, the prison that almost broke me down, but I don’t feel as though I’ve escaped.

I still feel beaten, forever their prisoner.

9

We stop several hours later, pulling to the side of a small rural road.

We need to discuss our next steps. The plan was to split up at this point—Cassian and Miram returning to the pride while we go our own way. Clearly that’s changed now.

I can’t envision strolling back into the township. Especially now. Without Cassian. And yet Miram still needs to get home.

I swallow and close my eyes. A target will forever mark my back after the pride learns what happened to Cassian. Lifting my face to the night, I let a breeze caress my skin and know that they will never let me go, never stop hunting me. They’ll blame me for Cassian. Severin will never rest until I pay, until I’m back with the pride, a prisoner. He’ll send one of his strongest after me. Corbin. He might be Cassian’s cousin, but he doesn’t possess one ounce of his integrity. He’d show me no mercy.

“Jacinda.”

I jerk at the sound of my name. I’m the only one still inside the vehicle. Tamra stands outside the van, looking in at me, her expression tight with worry, her smooth brow wrinkled. Will is just beyond her, shifting his weight on both feet. I’ve never seen him like this—so uncertain at how to approach me.

Scooting out, I drop down on the ground and face him. The thought whispers across my mind that I should tell him none of this is his fault. I need to reassure him that I don’t blame him for making us leave Cassian. He deserves that. But I can’t look at him and say the words. No matter that my head tells me to utter them, my heart refuses. It’s too soon, my grief is too fresh and I can’t give voice to it. Instead, I walk past him.

I see Lia and Miram silhouetted in the distance, standing beside two electric lanterns. Several sleeping bags sit near them but they make no move to unfold them.

Will’s footsteps sound behind me. I sigh, knowing I can’t ignore him forever. I don’t want to ignore him. I want everything to be right between us again, but I’m not sure that will be possible just now. I can’t just stick my head in the sand and pretend that I’m okay. I might have chosen Will, but Cassian is—was—a part of me. And what does it mean for me and Will if I don’t feel free to express my grief?

I open my mouth to speak, still not sure what to say. Words die in my throat as I spot Lia beginning to strip off her clothes. Immediately, I understand. I know that she’s leaving us.

Miram, however, doesn’t have a clue. “What are you doing?” she demands, eyeing the girl like she’s lost her mind.

Lia shrugs one bone-thin shoulder as if it were obvious. “Going home.” Her blue-black eyes lock on mine. Kicking free of her too-big shorts, she folds her clothes into a tight bundle, tying the sleeves of her shirt together so nothing escapes, creating a sort of handle.

Facing me, she squares her shoulders. “Thank you. You saved my life. I’ll never forget that. Or you.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, worry for her knotting my chest. “Do you know how to—”

“I know my way home.”

Again, I try. She’s so young. It doesn’t feel right to let her go off alone. “But you can’t fly during the day. What will you—”

“I’ll lie low in daylight. It shouldn’t take me long to get home. A couple days. I’ll be fine.” She smiles confidently, and I realize she isn’t a child. Not anymore. Who could be after living as a captive of the enkros?

And I know she’ll be fine. She’s a water draki. She’ll never stray too far from a water source. It will offer her protection if she needs it. For a brief moment, I think to suggest she stay with us, but what can we offer her except risk and instability? She’s probably better anywhere else.

“Good-bye, Lia,” I say. “Take care.”

“Oh, I will. The rest of my life will be very dull, I promise you that.”

I smile a little. “That does sound like heaven.”

She surprises me with a quick hug before turning and walking a few steps, her human exterior melting away as she manifests into the deep blue of a water draki. Then she’s gone, springing up into the night. I watch the dark gleaming blue of her body until it’s indistinguishable against the night sky.

Watching her go is another weight, a bit more added grief, knowing that I’ll never see her again—never know for certain if she made it home and claimed that dull life for herself.

“C’mon, Miram,” Tamra says gently. “Let’s unroll these sleeping bags.” My sister glances at Will. “Got any food?”

He nods and turns back to the van.

The mention of food makes my stomach growl, but my weariness wins out. I move my heavy limbs. Dropping down, I unroll my sleeping blankets and slide inside, feeling the need to do something to get away … even if it’s pretend sleep. Facing Will right now, telling him what’s in my heart—or rather what’s not, what’s dead and lost—that’s simply too much.

Only I don’t end up pretending. The moment my head hits the ground exhaustion takes hold and I’m gone.

I wake abruptly, every nerve in my body wired tight. A strange sense of exhilaration hums through me. I sit up, the plastic-slick fabric of my sleeping bag sliding to my waist with a scratchy whisper.

I scan the area around me. Miram and Tamra sleep nearby. For a moment I admire the flow of my sister’s hair, a silvery waterfall spilling across the ground. I’ve gotten used to the sight of it. I no longer think of her as the new Tamra. She’s simply Tamra. My sister. A relieved breath shudders past my lips. At least I haven’t lost her.

And you still have Will.

At this reminder, my gaze crawls, searching for him.

I find him. Watching me. He sits with his back to a tree, one leg bent so that his arm drapes over his knee. I can almost believe he’s been waiting for me to wake.

I sit up a little straighter. “Will.”

The soft sound of my voice jars in the dead quiet of the wood. I glance at the sleeping girls, worried I woke them. They don’t move.

“Why are you awake?” I ask.

“Just sitting over here thinking.”

I lick my lips. “About what?”

He stares at me for a long minute across the distance, his hazel eyes nothing more than two dark gleams. “About how you will always wonder if I wanted to leave him behind.”

My breath catches and it takes me a moment to respond. When I do, I’m glad at the steadiness of my voice. “Did you?” I ask, even though I don’t suspect for a moment that he did. That’s not Will.

He shakes his head against the tree. “I did what he wanted me to do, Jacinda. I saw it in his eyes. It was all I could do.”

I nod slowly. “That’s true.”

His eyes narrow and penetrate me. “But that’s not good enough for you.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You don’t have to. I can see it in your eyes. You won’t even let me so much as touch your hand …” His voice fades.

He thinks I blame him for losing Cassian? I rise from the sleeping bag, determined to correct him of that misapprehension. I may have been mad at him at first, in the moment, but I knew even then that he’d done the only thing he could for the rest of us to survive.

He watches with steady intensity as I approach him, my feet crackling over dried leaves. “What are you doing?” he asks as I lower myself down beside him, determined to prove to him that I’m not angry with him … that I believe in him. In us. I’ve been so caught up in hiding my grief from him … afraid to hurt him by revealing my pain. Turns out I’ve been hurting him anyway.

“Showing you,” I say.

“Showing me what?”

“That we’re all right. I know you would have saved him if you could. I didn’t mean for you to think I blamed you. I’ve been avoiding you because I felt guilty.”

“Guilty for what?”

“For missing Cassian. For feeling so … sad.” I shake my head. Sad seems such an inadequate word. I’ve forever lost a part of me. Part of me is dead. Cassian materializes in my head and it’s like a physical blow. Like a punch directly to the stomach and I can’t catch my breath. My chest rises raggedly, struggling for air. A fiery lock of hair falls before my eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not grieving. Don’t feel guilty for feeling. For …” He pauses, and I see that his next words are a struggle for him. “Don’t feel guilty for caring about him, too.”

My heart squeezes and I know loving Will is right. It’s always been right. For him to say those words only proves that my instincts have never been wrong about us—about him. He would never do anything to deliberately hurt anyone. Not me. Not even Cassian.

Will brushes the lock of hair back from my eyes, his look tender. “Jacinda,” he whispers. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.” His brow furrows. “Especially since I’m not as convinced as you are.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

He sighs and his expression tightens as though he were in physical pain. “I keep replaying that final moment in my mind, asking myself if there was some way … if we didn’t have to leave him behind.”

I cup his face in my hands and force him to look at me, determined that he hear me. “You did everything you could.”

“How are you so confident of that?”

“Because you wouldn’t be here beating yourself up about it if you did it on purpose. And you wouldn’t hurt me.”

And that’s the truth of it. That’s been the truth since day one. Since we first met. He wouldn’t harm Cassian if it would hurt me. I know that.

My thumb grazes his lower lip, tracing its shape, memorizing its smooth texture. His lids drift shut, and I bring my mouth closer. His mouth parts and I taste the warmth of his breath.

His eyes open, and they’re darker than moments before and I feel a shot of satisfaction at my effect on him.

I scoot closer and drop my hand to his chest, kissing him tenderly, slowly at first. Pulling back, I look into his eyes again, so close to my own. They gleam darkly. I lean in for another kiss and he stops me with a firm hand on the shoulder.

“What?”

“You don’t have to do this.”

I shake my head. “Don’t you want me—”

He squeezes his eyes tightly. He shoots a glance to where Miram and Tamra sleep and then blows out a frustrated breath. Suddenly he stands and seizes my hand, dragging me after him, weaving us through trees. Our legs cut through tall grass. He catches me when I stumble over a fallen branch. Both his arms surround me, solid and warm. I look up into his face and lose myself in the dark glitter of his eyes. His eyes are so clear, but the rest of his face is hazy, all shadowy lines and hollows.