“We’re going after my sister,” I say, myvoice strengthening. I sit up, swing my feet over the side, plantthem firmly on the floor. “With or without you.”

Our eyes lock and we’re both fighting it. Theneed we felt in the dungeon. Amidst everything—all the turmoil, thestrife, the death—still there, pulling, pulling, banging,crashing through everything we say, everything we do, everything wewant, like an avalanche, an unstoppable force of nature. But Ifight it and I can see in her fathomless brown eyes, she’s doingthe same. Me with thoughts of saving my sister and avenging mybrother’s death, and her with doing right by her people, both ofher sisters, one who’s alive and one who might be.

“Don’t,” she says.

I want to give her the option to come withus, but I can’t. I can’t ask that of her when it’s suicide, whenit’s crazy. When it’s what I have to do.

“I can’t,” I say.

She turns and walks back to her people.

~~~

Buff and I know as well as anyone that weneed to let things cool down a little before we go back to thepalace.

So that leaves us to escort the others to theborder, where we’ll bid them farewell. Each of them—save forFeve—has already promised me multiple times that they’ll returnwith many warriors. Wilde even offered her own promise, and Ialmost believe it coming from her. I thank them and smile, when inmy heart I know that by then it’ll probably be too late.

Abe and Hightower have the worst injuries andwill stay at Maddy’s for a while longer. Before we leave, I standbetween their beds. “Thank you,” I say to both of them, my headbouncing back and forth. “For doing what you did.”

Abe sighs, opens his mouth, says somethingI’d never expect him to say in a million years. “I hate thatbastard, King Goff.”

“But you’re his—”

“Slave?” Not what I was going to say. “Look,kid,” Abe says, “I know you think we’re the king’s evil littlehelpers and all that, but that’s not really us. We do what we’retold because the king’s had leverage over us from the start. He hadmy wife, Dazz.”

I can’t help raising my eyebrows, bothbecause Abe called me by my real name and because he’s not who Ithought he was. Not even close. Then I realize: He had mywife.

“What happened to her?” I ask, dread creepinginto my cracking voice.

He just shakes his head. “Kid, you must thinkI’m a monster. Taking all those kids, giving them to the king.” Idid think him monster-like, but not anymore. “Was my wife’s lifemore important than theirs? I could only hope the king wasn’thurting them, was treating them okay, was using them as servants.He said he’d kill my wife if I didn’t help him.” There’s sadness inhis voice, laced with shreds of remorse. But he still didn’t answermy question. I don’t ask again.

Abe continues anyway. “I always said I’d makeup for the many wrongs I’d caused, but I never really believed Iwould. It’s just what I told myself so I could sleep at night. Butthen…” His eyes cloud and his voice turns whisper soft. “Then, lastnight, when I showed up for my weekly visitation, part of myagreement with the king, she was gone, my Liza, her chains left ina pile in her cell, which was in one of the towers. The guardpassed along the king’s regrets, how they’d tried to save her, butthat her self-inflicted wounds were too serious to reverse. Igrabbed Tower and Brock and marched straight to the dungeons.”

I tilt my head to the side, bite my lip. Abecould’ve fallen into a dark pit of sorrow, left us to rot in thedungeons. But he didn’t. He didn’t. He came for us.

I grasp his hand. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “Youhave more than made up for the sins of your past.”

He squeezes back. “Kill that bastard king,”he says. “If it’s the last thing you do.”

“I will,” I say. “I’ll do it for Liza, forWes, for the kids. For my sister.”

He nods and lets go.

Hightower grunts and holds out a big hand,which I take, squeezing it firmly.

“To Brock,” I say, raising a fist. They eachraise a fist of their own and I knock mine against them, each inturn.

“To Brock,” Abe mumbles, “the no-goodscoundrel.”

~~~

I stop in front of Maddy on the way out.She’s pretending to busy herself in the cabinet, rearranging thesupplies.

“Thank you,” I say.

She doesn’t turn around. “Abe paid me goodsilver—”

“Thank you for trying,” I say.

She returns to fiddling with the supplies andI walk on, but when I look back she’s watching me go, her facestreaked and glistening with tears.

Outside, I push Wes outta my mind so I don’tbreakdown or break someone’s face. I focus on Jolie. I’m comingfor you, girl, I think.

We take backstreets—nay, streets that arebehind the backstreets, streets that no respecting king or hisguardsmen would ever find themselves walking down. Beggars andthose in a drug coma rest against the walls, enjoying a bit ofsummer sun that breaks through the dense cloud cover. There’s stillsnow on the ground, but it’s not cold snow.

The Red District disappears and we enter theforest. A snowbird speaks to us in whistles and light tones. If itwasn’t for my icin’ memories, I could almost be happy on a day likethis.

A forced silence sets in on all of us, as ifwe believe the songbirds and the trees are the king’s ears, and ifwe speak they’ll fly or march to the palace to tell him what wesaid. It gives me plenny of time to watch the people I’m with, thepeople I wish were coming with us.

Feve’s well ahead of the group, steady andcalm. Everything about him seems so self-assured, so confident. Ican’t read him though, and every time I look at him I feel likehe’s struggling to read me too.

Siena’s walking along next to Circ, who’slimping a little but seems to have recovered well. His leg isheavily wrapped but it must be a flesh wound, not a bone or muscleinjury. We all got pretty lucky, considering. All of us exceptfor…

I shake my head around, tell my brain tofreezin’ leave me the freeze alone or I’ll freezin’ slam youagainst the next freezin’ tree I see! That shuts him up for afew minutes and then he says, Wes. I bite my lip, hardenough to draw blood, and go back to watching.

Siena’s shivering pretty badly, although herskins are thick. Funny though, I never really noticed any of thembeing cold until now. I take off my coat and give it to her. Shedoesn’t say anything because her teeth are chattering so much, justtakes it and wraps it around herself like a blanket.

Buff’s walking next to Wilde, because that’swhat he does, and she’s already wearing his bearskins. What are thechances? A guy like him with a woman like her. Zero, Ithink, and hold in a laugh. I hope he gets the chance to prove mewrong.

Skye’s been avoiding my gaze since we startedwalking, and frankly I’m glad, because I’m not sure I can bear itright now. I feel so raw, like my skin’s been scraped away, partlyby the fighting and the violence, but mostly by losing Wes, seeingJolie in the king’s grasp, leaving everything underneath pokingout, emotions and nerves and blood vessels sticking every whichway. It’s like the littlest thing might set one of them off, makeme go crazy, crying or laughing or burning hot with rage, or amixture of all three, laughing and crying while punching King Goffin the face.

Skye strides ahead of us and I watch hergo.

She doesn’t look cold at all, as if she’sradiating her own heat from within. Or she just bears it well, likeshe seems to bear everything so well. I want to chase after her, totalk to her, even if we only look ahead and avoid eye contact whilewe’re doing it, but I don’t.

She catches up to Feve.

He tried to help save Wes.

I shake away the thought because it shouldn’tmatter one way or the other, not when Wes is…