I can always feel you.

Her lungs suddenly felt clogged, like she’d been the one hit with that blast of heat. Running now might draw his attention, so she slid to the ground and carefully peeked around the trunk. Griffin stomped down the porch steps and took off on a wobbly jog toward Hilo.

Keko waited until he was out of sight . . . but waited for what? He was gone and she still couldn’t move from that spot. Slowly coming to stand next to the tree trunk, she gazed down at the B and B, seeing the ghosts of her and Griffin walking in last night, and then both of them running away. Alone. Separate.

A strange movement in the window caught her eye. A flicker of yellow and orange, when the room had been done in greens and blues, and the drapes white. Then she smelled it. Smoke. The fluttering gold in the window dimmed as black smoke leaked out from underneath the door.

No. No, no, no!

She’d thrown too much magic, too much heat, at Griffin, and it had lingered. Festered. Ignited.

Merciful Queen, that wasn’t what she’d intended at all. It wasn’t what she wanted! The Source still pulled her out to sea, but her legs brought her back to the B and B, sprinting as fast as she’d ever run.

The smoke coming out of the room thickened, the dance of flames in the window taller, larger. She flung open the door and inhaled—a Chimeran breath of the greatest kind. The fire and smoke instantly obeyed, swirling back into her body. She took it all back in, every last flame of her mistake. For once, the fire tasted awful.

She stood there in the doorway, looking down at the charred black oval on the wood floor where Griffin had once lain, and the ashen, teetering remnants of the table that had been placed beneath the window. The bottom half of the drapes were gone, the ends now jagged and crisp with black.

Hand to her mouth, she whipped around and fled back into the hills to the northwest, guilt making her feet impossibly heavy.

The Airs refused to let Aya leave until the funeral was over. She sat on the steps of the false church, arms wrapped around her knees, the cold air trying to bite through the impenetrable grass suit. The freeze barraged her face, however, and the sting of it pulled tears from her eyes.

Real tears. Human tears.

The wind shifted, bringing with it the stench of the funeral pyre being lit on the far end of the compound. When it was over, they would name a new leader. Though she hoped it would be Aaron, there were no guarantees. And she, as a Senatus delegate, was required to remain here until she’d been given the name of the new appointee.

Did it really matter? Aya longed to escape out to open space, to dive into the earth and search for Nem, to confront him about what he’d done to Keko and Griffin. To forget about what she’d witnessed here, and how she could have ever found someone like Jason so compelling.

Today marked the first day that she wore human skin but desperately wanted to strip out of it.

A group of Airs turned the corner and entered the square, a low mumble of voices preceding their appearance. Aaron marched at the head, talking and gesturing to Nancy, who walked closely beside him.

Aya rose as Aaron stopped at the foot of the stairs.

“It’s me.” He set one foot on the second step. “I’m officially the Air Senatus delegate. I may have jumped the gun a bit when I told Griffin by phone earlier that a new premier wouldn’t be voted upon until he returned, but it’s what the premier—” He cleared his throat and paused, glancing at his shoes. “It’s what Charles would’ve wanted. He was coming around, with regard to Griffin, you know.”

At least there was that, that Aaron would wait to see what happened with Griffin before making a motion to vote on the new premier.

She nodded to cover her despair and loss. “May I go now? There’s a matter with my people I need to attend to.”

He regarded her for a long moment. “That Son of Earth who went after Keko? Charles told me about it. Yes, you need to take care of that.” He waved off Nancy, who started to come forward. “I’ll take Aya to the gate myself.”

As they approached the gate it opened for her again, this time onto a brilliantly sunlit field. Aya faced her new equal on the Senatus. “I’m so sorry about what’s happened here.”

Aaron pursed his lips, enhancing the wrinkles that radiated out from them. “And I’m sorry you had to witness it. But it concerns my people alone and you shouldn’t think about it. The traitor will be dealt with. He’s a repeat offender, and that is that.”

Aya peered into the angular shadows lying down between the labyrinth of tightly knit buildings. Killers deserved their punishments, she told herself, and this was a Secondary matter dealing with an issue within a single race. It had nothing to do with humans, who were her utmost priority. Aaron was right; she shouldn’t think on it anymore.

Yet as she bowed her head to Aaron and finally stalked out into the open field, striding for the tree in the distance whose bare, clacking branches whipped in the swift wind, she did think about Jason. How she’d apparently gotten him all wrong, and how disturbing that was to a human mind. How she’d been so terribly mistaken when she’d thought she’d seen personal pain and a deep regret in his troubled eyes when she’d first met him, and then his enraged defiance, vehement denial, and total confusion as he’d been shoved down the stairs in custody.

The frozen cornfield seemed to elongate with every step, so she took to running to erase the space quicker. When she finally crested the small rise before the dirt road that stretched one way to nowhere and the other way to nothing, her legs were tired and her lungs burned from inhaling so much cold air. Normally she would have reveled in such human sensations, but now all she wanted was to merge with the crust, tap into the great web of the earth, and locate Nem.

Coming down the small hill to the patch of untouched ground between two of the tree’s major roots, she froze—as suddenly and with as much terror as the moment when Griffin had destroyed half that Chimeran warrior’s arm. For there, wedged underneath a layer of bark starting to peel itself away from the tree, flapped a tattered yellow sunflower petal.

She fell to her knees. The strength in her body just gave out and the earth shot up to meet her. To cradle her. Almost instantly, the smooth, pliable magic grass garment that had protected her body started to merge back with the dirt. She let it, because she could not focus on anything but the fact that Nem had been here.

He’d followed her again.

And she knew, without a doubt, that Nem had been the one to slit the premier’s throat. Not Jason.

Days ago on the Aran Islands she’d witnessed a murderous intent cross Nem’s face. Back then it had been directed at Keko, his duty as Source guardian sewn into his Children’s blood. Even though he’d given his word, Nem had gone after Keko anyway. And he’d failed.

So he’d switched his focus and gone after the premier, whom Nem believed had given the no-kill order. The fact that Jason had been there—the very air elemental Nem had accused Aya of wanting more than him—had given him the perfect opportunity to escape. The perfect person to frame.

Aya shuddered. The cold wind of the great Canadian prairie finally seeped into the grass that was trying desperately to make root again around her. She started to shiver.

No, not from the cold. It was the fact that Nem, a Son of Earth, had chosen humanity for her, and humanity had turned on him. Twisted his mind. Disagreed with his choice. His descent was ugly and irreversible and she had to stop him before he hurt someone else. Before something even bigger and more devastating happened.

There was only punishment left for him, a lifetime of sunless days and gasping for thin air Within. She needed to find him. She needed to tell the Father what he’d done.