“Jax?” He’s beside me now, his voice breaking me out of the endless stream of what if’s floating through my brain. “Are we stopping here?”

Huh? I realize I’ve stopped walking and I’m practically hyperventilating. The buzz of anxiety is back, filling my body and throbbing in time with my rapid breathing.

Lir’s brow furrows. “Are you alright?” His hand extends toward me and mine flies up to meet it, grasping his wrist and squeezing.

I can feel his wrist bones grating together under my grip. “Don’t touch me.” My hand releases and he yanks his arm away.

“Got it. No touching.” Wariness enters his eyes and he takes a step backwards.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

And his hands go up in front of him. “Like what?”

“Like I’m crazy.” And there goes the eyebrow. “And stop with the eyebrow thing!”

Lir blinks his eyes twice and then a short burst of air escapes from his chest. “Eyebrow thing?” His lips fight to turn up at the edges.

I scowl, but the wavering edges of his mouth start my lips to mimicking the motion. I lose the battle first. A smile spreads across my face and my anxiety releases into a laugh. “Yeah. The eyebrow thing. You know, like this?” My pointer finger goes to his brow and lifts his left eyebrow up. “Just the one.”

The muscles in his forehead move under my finger and the green tips of one curl brush against my knuckle. If I move my hand his eyebrow would stay up. Lir doesn’t say anything, he just trails his eyes down my arm and up to my finger until his gaze is twisted up. Crap. I’m touching him again… Right after I told him not to touch me. What is wrong with me?

I was right, the eyebrow stays up when I pull my hand away and drop it to my side. The tingling buzz recedes along with the previously unnoticed tension in my limbs. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m just a little on edge.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Lir says dryly, rubbing at his wrist. “I would hate to see you a lot on edge.” His eyes widen at his own statement and he starts stammering. “I mean… Just… I wasn’t referring to…”

“It’s okay.” I sink down, my backpack pressing against a tree trunk, until my butt lands in the dirt. “I think I just need a moment. There’s too much noise in my head right now.”

Lir sits down across from me, pulling his knees into his chest and wrapping his arms around them. I mirror the movement. The edges of the dress flap against my thighs. Oh yeah, I’m wearing a dress. So not only did I touch him, now I’m flashing him. My face heats and I slide my legs to the side, pulling the dress down around my knees.

I shrug out of one shoulder strap and swing the backpack around. First things first, I need to change. A light jacket. Two soft t-shirts. A small bundle of food. Canteen. Sleeping bag. My knife and hilt. Pants? Please tell me there are pants in here. My fingers brush across a rough texture that can only be denim. Thank goodness.

I pull the jeans out and shimmy them up underneath the dress. Next comes socks and some nice sturdy boots. I’m almost as excited to get rid of the stupid sandals as I am to get rid of the dress. A shirt goes over my head and I strip off the sleeves of the dress, pulling it down and stepping out of it before sliding my arms into the shirt sleeves. Lir jumps a little when I toss the now crumpled dress past his head and into the woods. It probably would have been better for me to stuff it in the pack, to cover our tracks and all, but it’s too late now. I lean back against the tree and close my eyes, finally a little more comfortable.

“So what is your plan exactly?” His words are quiet, near a whisper.

So far, I don’t really have much of a plan, but that probably wouldn’t be the best thing to admit to right now. I open my eyes and squint at him. He’s staring at the ground. It’s the first time since Lir stepped off that ship that his wall of confidence really cracks. For just a moment, a flash of vulnerability, maybe even fear, passes across his face. What must it be like for him stranded out here alone and hurt with only me to depend on? He looks so incredibly lost in that moment— and young.

“How old are you?” I ask.

The wall slams back down. “In your years? Nineteen.” His head comes up and he narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Just curious.” I roll my shoulders and straighten my legs out in front of me. “I’m seventeen, well almost eighteen now. My brother too. We’re twins.” His head tilts to the side, his shoulders lower and one leg extends forward. Silence fills the gap between us again. I want to know him, to know something, anything to ease my fears about Jace. “What about you, any siblings?”

“One,” he says. I just stare, waiting for the rest. Lir avoids my gaze and his voice softens. “A sister, Stella. She’s seven.”

“I’ve always wanted a sister. Do you guys get along?”

“Yes.” Again, I wait for more words, but he doesn’t continue.

Elaborate swirls appear in the dirt as I trace my finger through it. There’s a burn behind my eyes and I have to swallow twice before I can get my next question past my lips. “Do you think they’re hurting him?” My eyes dart up to meet Lir’s emerald gaze and one of my hands curls in on itself, my nails pressing into my palm.

“I don’t know.” At least he’s honest. Though I may have preferred empty assurances.

There are so many other questions begging to squeeze out of my mouth. Why did they do it? What do they want with him? Who did it? And is Jace even alive? Lir doesn’t have the answers to these questions though and, even if he did, I might not like them. I can’t afford to get sidetracked.

I look away and rub my eyes with the back of my hand. Get it together, Jax. No tears. “I don’t have one. A plan. Not really anyway.” I laugh nervously. “Just get my brother back or die trying.”

Grabbing the strap of the satchel, I pull it into my lap. “I’ve got a map. I know where to go.” Lir scoots across the ground until he’s next to me. The map rustles on my lap as I unfold it and point out our route to him. He leans closer, following my finger with his eyes, until I can feel the heat of his chest against my back. “Bridgelake is here, your city is here.” My finger jabs at each location. “We’re about here.”

“We’re moving west? That is the wrong direction.”

“Yes. Well, it’s away from the city anyway,” I say. “It’s to throw them off if they try to follow us. We’ll head west and then cut north here, near one of the red circles, then back east here. This road should take us almost all the way there.”

Lir nods. “How much farther should we travel tonight?”

It’s hours until morning and the longer I sit here, the heavier my eyes get. My joints are starting to ache, especially my shoulders. Hanging from a window ledge was not friendly to my arms. “Maybe we should rest for a bit now and then head out at first light?” I don’t really mean for it to be a question.

Lir shrugs, his shoulder brushing my arm with the movement. “Sounds good to me.”

I fight a sigh of relief when he moves away until he’s across from me again and opens his pack. Puffs of dirt drift up when he rolls out his sleeping bag. He slides inside and closes his eyes.

Lir’s breathing has evened and his body relaxed into sleep before I even move to get my sleeping bag. At least he trusts me a little, if only enough to fall asleep in my presence. I envy his ease as I toss and turn for at least an hour before falling into a restless sleep.

My dreams are filled with blood and knives, a bright white light and Jace’s screams. And then they’re not. Images of towering buildings and silver ships creep into my head, followed closely by bright green eyes and a single upraised eyebrow.

NINE

Sunlight filters through the leaves and onto my face, waking me up. I push the sleeping bag down and stand. My shoulders are still stiff, but I do a couple stretches and they loosen up. Clenching my fist a few times loosens up my sore knuckles. Flint has a hard head.