“Perhaps it was your remarkable beauty,” Tristan says, sending warmth into my cheeks.

“Knock it off, charmer, I thought you were being serious.”

“I was being serious,” he says, which doesn’t help stem my flush.

“Look, you probably just hadn’t eaten in a while, or were dehydrated,” I say, trying to steer the conversation away from what he thinks of my looks.

He tilts his head to the side, his eyes wandering to the tunnel ceiling. “That’s possible…” he says, but I know he doesn’t really think so.

When he looks back at me, there’s resolution in his eyes. Although we’re already sitting close to each other, he slides closer, right next to me. The normal strength of my pull toward him is super-charged, and the only desire I have is to hold him, to be held by him. He must feel the same way, because his arm curls around the back of my neck, drags my head to his chest. His warm breath caresses the back of my neck, electricity shooting off his skin as he gently presses his arm against mine.

“This is the good part of life,” he says, and I sigh, although I shouldn’t. Not when my dad is dead, my sister maimed. Cole. No, I don’t deserve this, I think. Not now. Not until the President is dead. Maybe never.

Going against every instinct, I unwind my body from Tristan’s grasp, stand up, and walk away with the lantern in tow, wishing I didn’t have to.

“I’ve got to get rid of this gun,” I say over my shoulder, plucking the gun my mom gave me—the gun I failed to save my father with—out from beneath my tunic.

Chapter Two

Tristan

“Wait!” I say, wishing I hadn’t been so bold. I seem to have scared her away.

Jumping to my feet, I jog after the bouncing glow of the light. By the time I catch up to her, she’s marched past the sleeping lumps that are Trevor and Ram, and is approaching Roc and Tawni, who agreed to share tonight’s first watch. Backlit by another lantern, their silhouettes are sitting cross-legged, facing each other, their knees nearly touching. The slap of cards on rock gives away their method of passing the time.

I grab Adele’s arm, feeling a zing of energy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

She stops, glances down at my hand on her elbow, her lips curled into a tenuous smile that evaporates immediately. “No, Tristan, it’s not you,” she says, gently prying herself loose. “This is just something I have to do. It can’t wait any longer.”

“What’s going on?” Roc says beyond us. “Are you guys lost? Because if you’re looking for the nearest hotel, it’s back the way you came. Not that I’d recommend it.”

We both turn to find the shadows turned toward us, watching. Adele lifts the lantern, illuminating our friends’ faces. Roc’s wearing a black tunic that makes his brown skin look ghostly pale in comparison. He’s also wearing a smirk. Tawni’s delicate features are framed by her milk-white hair, above her silver tunic. Together they’re the yin and the yang; I can’t decide who is which.

“Tawni, I have a favor to ask,” Adele says.

Cocking her head to the side, Tawni purses her lips. “Yes?”

“Hang onto this for me,” Adele says, holding the gun out handle-first.

Tawni freezes, her pale face managing to whiten even further. “But why? I mean, I can’t…I don’t even know how—”

“I’m not asking you to use it—just to keep it safe for me.”

Wrinkling her nose, Tawni reaches out a bony hand and slips a single finger into the metal trigger loop, allowing the gun to dangle like a dirty sock. “Where should I put it?”

Adele reaches under her tunic and works her fingers for a few seconds before pulling out a waist holster. “This fits in the small of your back,” she says, handing the gun carrier to her friend. “You won’t even know it’s there.” If the gun is a dirty sock then the holster’s its matched pair, and although she takes it with her other hand, Tawni clearly doesn’t want it. “Please,” Adele adds, her previously firm voice pleading now.

“Sure,” Tawni says with a sigh, placing the items in a pile on the tunnel floor.

Roc stares at me curiously, his lips opening slightly, a question on his tongue. “What are you guys doing up anyway? Your shift isn’t for two hours.”

Adele’s green eyes flick to mine. Don’t tell them I had a nightmare, they plead. “My stomach was growling so loud it woke us both up,” I say, my eyes lingering on Adele’s for a moment before facing Roc.

“I’d give you some of my ration,” Roc says, “but I already ate it.” He rubs his stomach, grinning. Tawni laughs.

I lunge at him, tackle my friend, pin him down. “Tomorrow I get both our rations,” I say. “Don’t I?”

“Not unless hell freez—” But Roc doesn’t have a chance to finish his thought, as a huge, black shape enters our field of vision from the side, a blur of speed and muscle. I fling myself to the side, trying to avoid the impact, but I’m too late. The beast rams its shoulder into my chest and I’m thrown backward, my spine shuddering as it glances off the rock wall.

Ignoring the pain, I’m on my feet, ready to fight, ready to defend myself and Adele and my friends. The black shadow looms over me, a head taller and…and laughing. Deep, throaty, Ram. The same Ram that Adele was just asking me about. What she doesn’t know is that before being added to our team, he was my biggest enemy within the Resistance. He was always watching me, calling me a liar, convinced I was a spy for my father. And now he’s my friend, I think? Maybe? Sort of?

My body relaxes and instantly a bolt of pain shoots down my spine. I cringe. Roc moves between us with a flashlight and Ram’s massive grinning face looms over him. “Everyone all right?” Roc asks. “And by everyone I mean Tristan.” He laughs, claps a hand on my shoulder. “Serves you right, buddy. Me and Ram, well, let’s just say we’ve come to an agreement. Isn’t that right, bud—I mean, Ram?”

Ram’s dark eyes are violent and yet full of humor. “That’s right. No more picking on your weakling friend,” he growls.

“Right,” Roc says. “Except for the weakling part.”

Great, I think. Even Roc’s tighter with Ram than I am. This might be a long trip.

“I think I’ll join Team Ram, too,” another voice says, approaching from the tunnel behind us. Trevor. Trevor with the curly chestnut hair. Trevor who was Adele’s mom’s right-hand man. Trevor who saved Adele from Brody in the Star Realm. Although his tousled hair and blinking eyes are still full of sleep, he wears an easy smile, one that looks like it could stay on his lips all day.

It’s only the first night of our mission and already none of us can manage a proper night’s sleep. Yeah, it really is going to be a long trip.

* * *

Since we’re all awake, we decide to just keep moving, to save sleep for another time, maybe once the war is over.

At first Adele walks with Tawni, speaking in hushed tones. I wonder if she’s telling her about her nightmare, about my arm around her, about my questions. I can just make out the bump on Tawni’s lower back where Adele’s gun is.

Ram’s bulky arm is around my shoulder, as if he’s my best mate, when really he’s just trying to intimidate me. I shrug it off.

“Ooh, the tough prince exerting his strength,” Ram taunts.

I laugh. “If you weren’t three hundred pounds I’d do more than that,” I say.

“Pity. I’d like to see that,” Roc says from my other side.

“I reckon I could take all three of you,” Trevor says from behind us.

I glance back at my newest acquaintance. He’s got a big mouth, but for all I know he might be able to back it up. His forearms are cut like stone and I can just make out the start of a toned bicep before it hides beneath the sleeve of his green tunic. I doubt Adele’s mom would have included him on the mission if he couldn’t fight.