He looks away, and the breeze tugs at his black hair.

I say the words before I really think them through. “What did you do that ruined everything?”

“It’s complicated.”

I know the feeling. I’m about to back out of the conversation with the excuse of needing more sleep when he takes a deep breath and looks at me.

“I killed a man too. I thought I had to. I’m still not sure if I was right, but because of my actions, Willow and I were cast out of our village.” His voice is low and steady, but sadness runs beneath it. He sits in silence for a moment, then says, “What’s been done is done. I’ve had to learn how to live with what was left.”

Shock robs me of speech for a moment. I lean closer to study his face, looking for the lie. For proof he’s saying what he thinks I need to hear so he can gain my trust. The only thing I find in his expression is naked truth. I feel like an intruder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

He leans forward and traces patterns into the soil at his feet. “You aren’t prying. You asked because you know how it feels to think you’ve ruined everything. You’re hoping if my story has a happy ending, there’s hope for yours.”

I shift uneasily against the tree trunk. I’m not sure I want to know, but I have to ask, “Does yours have a happy ending?”

His finger pauses, pressing into the dirt as he slowly raises his head to look at me. “I don’t know. I haven’t reached the end.”

“Oh. I guess I thought … you seem so settled. So comfortable with yourself and others. I thought maybe you—”

“Had answers? I might.” He shrugs. “But they’re answers I had to find for myself. I don’t think they’ll work for anyone else.”

I should probably feel awkward, sitting in the dirt across from a boy I barely know talking about the things that haunt us, but instead, I feel a tiny sliver of comfort. Here is someone who understands. Who knows what it feels like to have blood on his hands and not know if the guilt he feels should be his to bear alone. And he isn’t broken. He’s found a measure of peace, with himself and with others.

It gives me hope that someday, after I’m finished with the Commander, I might be able to shatter the silence inside me, grieve for those I’ve lost, and find a way to forgive myself for what I’ve caused. Someday, I might find my own measure of peace.

He leans back, and we sit in companionable silence while the tree branches creak and shiver in the wind and the stars slowly trek across the vast darkness of the sky above us.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

LOGAN

“Absolutely not.” Quinn’s tone discourages any argument.

“But they might need us.” Willow stands, arms crossed over her chest, staring her brother down across the fire at our final camping spot before reaching Baalboden.

I couldn’t care less about their argument. Whether they come with us or move on. I’m too busy running through tomorrow’s plan of action, looking for weaknesses.

“You don’t want to go into Baalboden with them because they might need you,” Quinn says. “You want to go because you want to see if they can take out their leader.”

“That’s definitely a side benefit.”

“Which is why I’m saying no.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re no fun anymore, you know that?”

He freezes and something dark flashes through his eyes. That’s the second time I’ve seen hints that what goes on beneath his surface doesn’t always match the calm he wears on the outside. Which won’t matter if he chooses to move on.

But if he stays in Baalboden once the Commander has been defeated, I’m going to have to keep an eye on him.

Willow slowly uncurls her arms and says, “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I know.” He turns away and begins gathering what he’ll need to make a tree-cradle bed for her.

“Quinn.” She hurries to him, wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“You think I don’t know you’re paying the price for my actions?” he asks quietly, and the pain in his voice seems to hit Willow hard. “Every moment of every day I carry the burden for causing you to be an outcast with me.”

Definitely more going on beneath his surface than he wants us to know. I wonder what he did that caused the two of them to be punished like this.

Willow’s lips tremble, and she steps in front of him to make him look at her. “I chose you. Do you hear me, Quinn Runningbrook? You’re all the family I need.”

They walk to the edge of our campsite, talking in low tones. I give up speculating about what kind of crime would cause a Tree Village to cast out two of their own, and run through Worst Case Scenarios for tomorrow instead. In a few moments, Willow disappears up a tree, and Quinn returns, his face shadowed.

“We’ll go no further. Our debt to Jared has been paid.” His eyes seek out Rachel’s and linger. “Be safe.”

I slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to me. “We will.”

“Where will you go?” Rachel asks.

He shrugs. “We’ll find another Tree Village to take us in. Somewhere far from our first home.”

“But the next closest Tree Village is a two-week journey east,” she says, and turns to me. “They could live in Baalboden, couldn’t they? Once the Commander is gone?”

I didn’t realize she’d come to care for Quinn and Willow, and I wish she could let them go. I could lie and say it’s because I can hardly guarantee any stability in Baalboden until after we succeed in restructuring the government, but the truth is I don’t like the interest in Quinn’s eyes when he looks at Rachel.