“Adelice,” she says, but the shock in her voice is manufactured. She knew I would come.

“What are you hiding?” I demand, ducking into her tent.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” She stands to greet me, but I don’t take her extended hand. She turns and offers it to Amie, who accepts it with an uncomfortable glance in my direction.

“Is he here?” I ask her. I know she had a history with Erik, but would she keep me from him after what’s happened?

Alix turns away from me and rakes a hand through her loose hair. When she speaks, her voice is low and distant. “Erik is dead.”

I die in that moment. Amie’s arm wraps around my waist, but I push her away. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to erase the words from my head.

“You’re lying,” I accuse.

Alix rounds on me and there are tears in her eyes. “I wish I was lying.”

And then I know it’s true, because I can see her heart is broken. I hear it in her voice. I see it in the absence behind her eyes. I feel it in the hollow of my stomach.

“What happened?” Amie asks because I can’t.

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t there,” she says, reaching down to retrieve a bag from the ground. “Come on.”

We follow her out of the tent. Each step is automatic. I follow her because I should. I don’t care where we’re going.

“How can you know he’s dead?” Amie asks her. “If you weren’t there.”

A spark of hope flares in my chest. Why hadn’t I thought to ask that?

“I saw his body.”

The tiny flicker dies.

“Where is it?” I ask.

“I buried it.”

I don’t ask her where. It doesn’t matter. Erik isn’t there anymore. I try to remember what Loricel told me about people who die naturally. A piece of them fades back into the universe. Had I watched him fade away with Arras as I stood on the surface of Earth? No, Alix said she buried him, so he must have made it here.

“Wait,” I say, grabbing Alix’s wrist and twisting it. “You told me you didn’t know where he was. The night of Protocol Three.”

“I didn’t know where he was then.”

“But when you found out, you didn’t send for me?” I accuse.

“This isn’t Arras,” Alix reminds me. “I can’t shoot you a telebound. He’s dead, Adelice. I can’t change that.”

She can’t change it, and it’s not her fault. But I need to be angry with someone, because the pain is building like an inferno desperate for oxygen. I want it to consume me and destroy me.

“Where are we going?” Amie asks, trying to change the subject.

Alix stops in front of a large canopy made of a variety of canvases patched together. She gestures for us to enter. Inside lie rows of makeshift cots full of the wounded and the recovering, and Alix marches down one. A few volunteers stop her to ask questions. Obviously Alix has stepped up to a leadership position in this camp.

“You were Agenda the whole time,” I say finally.

“No, I was turned,” she says.

“By whom?” I ask.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

I want her to say it. Was it Erik who convinced her to betray Cormac? How had he convinced her? What promises passed between them? There were more layers to discover about him. Now I can only uncover those secrets through her.

“Adelice.” Alix turns and stares at me. “I understand you have questions, but there’s only one thing you need to know. Erik loved you.”

“I know that.” It’s the only thing that feels real.

“Nothing else matters, then.”

In the void left by his death this seems impossible to comprehend. Of course other things mattered. Because without answers there was only the aching absence of him. If answers could fill the void, I would keep searching for them.

But even as I thought it, I knew that they never would.

“Nothing I can say will bring him back to you, and there are other things to consider.”

“Like what?” I bark. Alix has had weeks to deal with this loss. But it’s a naked wound for me and I don’t need her to lecture me on how to handle it. Maybe she can forget, but I can’t. I’ve been asked to forget too many people already.

“Like him.” Alix points to the cot she’s stopped beside. I turn angrily to the bed and the sight sucks the breath from me.

He’s badly injured, a thick wind of gauze around his head, dried blood coating the outside. I drop to Jost’s side and push the hair from his face, revealing the telltale marks of battle already scarring along his jaw. He’s healing quickly, but the damage is extensive.

“Jost?” My voice is barely a whisper over the pounding of my heart.

“You didn’t lose everyone,” Alix reminds me.

I am not alone to tell the story. This thought crowds into the empty space inside me, threatening to spill over into joy.

“Will he live?” I ask Alix, and as if to answer my question, Jost’s hand jerks forward and grabs mine.

“Jost?” This time I’m calling to him, asking him to hear me.

There’s a flutter of lashes and he opens his mouth, but no words come out, only a groan.

“He’s in bad shape,” Alix says, “but he’s a fighter and he has a good reason to live.”

“Sebrina,” I guess.