“I wish I knew.”

“That Ram guy didn’t seem to like you too much.”

“You think? I was thinking he might be my new best friend,” I say.

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

“Do you miss her?” Roc asks cryptically.

“Who?”

“Adele?”

“I don’t know,” I say slowly.

“So yes then.”

“Yes,” I say.

“We’ll see her again, don’t worry.” Easy to say; hard to do. I want to believe she’ll be fine, but any one of a million different terrible and tragic things could befall her in the Star Realm. I try not to think about it.

“I can’t sleep anymore,” I say.

“It’s okay. You go. I’ll stay with Elsey. I’m not really into all that political stuff anyway.”

I don’t need any more encouragement than that. Throwing off the thin sheet I’m under, I roll off the bed and stumble blindly to the door. Locating the iron handle, I pull hard. Nothing happens. I try pushing and am met with the same result. The door won’t budge.

We’re locked in. Like prisoners. We are sun dwellers in the Moon Realm, after all. Not welcome.

“It’s locked,” I say.

“Great,” Roc says, “and I’m starving.” Just like that, my hunger from the train comes raging back.

“Me, too.”

“What’s going on?” a small voice asks.

“Everything’s fine, El,” Roc says.

We hear her yawn. “I’m famished,” she says.

“Join the club,” Roc grumbles.

I pound on the stone door. Thud, thud, thud! The sound is dull and likely doesn’t carry more than a few feet into the hall. I turn to feel my way back to my bed when I hear a metallic click and a grinding sound as the door moves away from me, letting a growing triangle of light into the room. I flinch back when I see who’s standing in the doorway.

Ram.

His gigantic, dark frame takes up the entire gap between the door and the frame. His lips are turned up in the center, nearly touching his nose, as if he’s just caught a whiff of dirty socks. “Your presence has been requested,” he says robotically.

“We’re hungry,” I say.

“Food will be provided,” he says.

“And my friends?”

“They’ll go somewhere else for food.”

“Roc, Elsey—c’mon,” I say.

I step into the tunnel hall, slipping past Ram as if he isn’t there. Giving me a look, he starts down the hall without looking back to see if we’re following. He’s better than a bunch of random girls asking you to marry them, I think to myself. Which is true—but being hated still kinda sucks.

Roc steps through the doorway, his black hair full of sleepy disarray. “Nice do,” I say.

“Your blond curls could use a good brushing too, my friend.”

Elsey’s right behind him, her eyes tired but alert, her long, straight black hair falling perfectly down her back, like she’s just combed it. “Good morning, gentlemen,” she says brightly.

“Your chariot awaits,” I say with a smile, extending a hand. She takes it and links her other hand with Roc’s, walking between us. Ram is well out in front of us, waiting for us to catch up with his back to us, but we take our time, as if we’re just out for a leisurely stroll. Making him wait gives me childish satisfaction.

When we are a few steps away, Ram moves forward, leading us away from our sleeping quarters. He’s wearing heavy black boots with dark brown camouflage pants tucked into them. He’s got a few inches and more than a few pounds on me, but I still think I could take him. Not that he’s the enemy, although it’s starting to feel that way.

The tunnel is plain, roughly cut through the rock, just high enough so Ram doesn’t have to stoop and just wide enough so the three of us can walk in a row. The ground is hard-packed dirt and smells earthy. Water trickles from cracks in the roof, staining the walls black.

A few minutes later, we exit the tunnel into a tall cylindrical space, full of long, gray, stone tables and people. The Resistance. Eating breakfast. Men and women, laughing and talking, eating and drinking. If I didn’t know better, I would say the scene looked rather normal.

The aroma of fried rice and potatoes sends my stomach into a frenzy.

Squeezing my stomach muscles to quell my demanding gut, I gaze upwards and see that the room rises six or seven stories high, ending in a craggy roof full of stalactites. Magnificent. The circular walls contain dozens of cave mouths at every level up to the ceiling, like an open air theater with layer upon layer of balconies. It reminds me of something I once saw as a kid. My father took me and Killen to the bee plantations, where they make honey. The bees swarmed around their hives, hard at work. I guess that’s where the expression busy as a bee, comes from. My mom liked to use that one. Anyway, the head beekeeper cracked open one of the hives for us and the inside looked like a miniature replica of what I’m seeing now. A honeycomb, he called it.

My attention is pulled away from the honeycomb walls as a familiar face stands up from one of the tables and approaches us. “Mornin’, sleep well?” Jinny says.

“Oh, yes, Aunty, the bed was surprisingly soft, and I had the most wonderful dream about Mother. Father was there, too, and Adele, and you. We were all together again.”

I watch Jinny’s eyes as Elsey talks about her dream. Her amber eyes cloud over, and although her face wears a smile, I can tell the tale troubles her, like she knows it’s just a dream, one that will likely never come to pass. The hard lines of her face tell me that this is a woman who has been through violent times, and come through them hardened and pessimistic. Maybe she still believes that her cause can be achieved, but it is a clinging hope, just a thread of faith left holding her together. I am just guessing, but my thoughts feel right.

“Come, El,” she says, taking Elsey’s hand. “You can tell me all about it at breakfast.” She leads her away to the table.

“Follow me,” Ram says.

I start to follow, with Roc next to me, but Ram bars his path with an arm. “Not you,” he says.

“Roc’s coming,” I say firmly.

“No—he wasn’t invited.”

“I won’t go without him,” I say. Roc and I might argue a lot, but he’s still my friend and advisor. I want him there with me.

Ram shrugs and says, “Fine. But it’s on your head.”

As Ram leads us through the honeycomb room, Roc whispers, “Thanks.” It’s not necessary.

We pass Elsey, who is sitting next to her aunt, laughing at something she said. She looks happy. This, I remind myself, is what we’re fighting for.

Under another stone archway, through a short tunnel that curves gently to the right, up a set of jagged stairs: We approach a heavy, metal door. It’s the first thing I’ve seen that isn’t stone. Whatever room it is guarding is more important than the others. To the right of the door is an open space and I can see that we’re up a level, overlooking the common area where the people are eating. They can see us, and we can see them. We’re in the honeycomb.

With a sharp tap on the metal, Ram announces our arrival, and the door swings open with a creak. Four faces are framed by the doorway, all staring at us as we enter the long, rectangular room. Ignoring the faces, I scan the area. On one wall is a large map, dotted with orange, yellow, and blue pins. On another wall hangs a giant mural, woven from black thread, etched with symbols in white: a hammer; a chisel; a sword; a harp. In the center of the tapestry is a large symbol I have never seen before, made up of three smaller symbols that I know well. The sun dweller symbol: a red and orange sun with curling heat lines churning from the edges; the moon dweller insignia: a bright yellow crescent moon crossed by a black sword; the star dweller emblem: a blue star outlined in dark black. The marks of each of the Tri-Realms. Each is encircled by gold thread, overlapping and meeting in the middle. Beneath them, the words Forever United.