Jude glances at us, weighing, considering, choosing to address his words to me when he says, “Fine. I’m in. It’s the least I can do for bungling the whole thing with Haven and just about everything else where you’re concerned. So tell me, where do we begin?”

Chapter five

I slide in beside Damen, my left knee pressed snugly against his right. The sight of it shielded by the thick wooden tabletop, sparing Jude from the view. No need to rub his nose in it. Make him feel any worse than he already does.

Still, it’s not long before he rises from his place just across from us, mumbling something about a new tact he’d like to try, something that just sprang to mind. Though despite the excuse, it’s pretty clear he’s looking for escape, longing to go somewhere else, somewhere offering less proximity to Damen and me.

I peer at the large crystal globe that hovers before Damen, trying to make out the images it unfolds. But from this angle all I get is a colorful blur. To really see it, you need to sit directly in front of it. Still, I can tell by the way Damen observes it, shoulders slumped, head bent forward ever so slightly, breath coming steady and slow, that whatever he’s watching, it’s nothing of interest, nothing that’ll lead us to the info we need. In fact, if anything, it appears to be lulling him to sleep.

Frowning at the tablet before me that’s providing about as much hope as Damen’s globe, I push it away in disgust and glance all around. Desperate for a little help, from someone, or something—I’m not at all picky, I’ll take what I can get at this point, but no help appears. Everyone remains immersed in their business, their own personal quest, paying no notice of me. And despite my closing my eyes, despite the stream of questions that flows from my mind, despite my obvious plea for assistance that rings loud and clear, the Great Halls make no attempt to address it, no attempt to whisk me away to just the right room like it’s done so many times before.

Other than granting admittance, the Great Halls of Learning seem to be ignoring me today.

I try to sit still, try to concentrate, meditate, go to that nice quiet space—but I’m too restless, too agitated, and I can’t seem to focus.

My mind storming with the kind of thoughts that make it impossible to find any peace. I mean, how am I supposed to relax and concentrate on the flow of each passing breath, when I’m all too aware of the ticking clock that practically hangs over my head? A constant reminder of just how rapidly my one-week deadline is shrinking, inching closer to the end.

Peeking once again at Damen’s globe spinning before him, I can’t help but feel glum, defeated, allowing my mind to travel to a place I’d prefer that it didn’t.

A place of doubt.

Second-guessing.

Extreme reservation.

The part that wants to believe, quickly overruled by the question of which would be worse: to be right about my hunch—or totally wrong in every way?

Would it be better to be solely responsible for the appearance of the murky part of Summerland—to be the object of the crazy old lady’s hope as well as her scorn?

Or is it better to be way off base about it all, dead wrong in every sense? Which, in essence, would lighten my load and free me of the burden, the huge responsibility of it all.

What if that old lady really is just some demented Summerland interloper like Damen claims?

What if the dream I was sure Riley sent bears no greater meaning than the one Damen’s already convinced of—a pathetic cry from my subconscious for more attention from him?

What if I’m just wasting our time? Misusing a week that could be much better spent?

And, even worse, what if I’m acting just selfish enough to drag Jude into it too, when it’s so painfully obvious how uncomfortable it is for him to be around Damen and me?

I swallow hard and glance at Damen, knowing it’s time to cry uncle, time to manifest a duffle bag stuffed with all the usual vacation essentials so that we can scram out of here and head off to whatever destination he wants. Just because we have an eternity together doesn’t mean I should so willingly waste even a few days of it. But first, there’s just one last thing I want to try, and I’ll need to go to the pavilion to do it.

He meets my gaze, those dark, heavily lashed, almond-shaped eyes staring right into mine, his lips parting in a way that prompts me to lean toward him, placing my hand on his arm when I say, “Damen, I have an idea.”

His globe halts, vanishes, and by the look in his eye, he’s clearly relieved to be free of it.

“Why don’t you go find Jude and tell him to quit looking, that I changed my mind, I don’t want him to waste any more time, while I head for the pavilion and wait there for you.”

“The pavilion?” He smiles, eyes shining with promise.

I nod, taking a moment to kiss his forehead, his nose, his lips, before pulling away and saying, “And hurry!”

Chapter six

He definitely hurried.

I can tell just by looking.

Usually he’s so everything-in-its-place perfect—the poster boy for ultimate cool, calm, and complete and total collectedness no matter the occasion. But, standing before me now, with his face slightly flushed, his hair falling into his eyes, his clothes the slightest bit disheveled, well, on anyone else it would hardly be worth noticing, but on Damen, it’s a sure sign of eager anticipation.

“Well this was unexpected. Welcome. In fact, more than welcome, don’t get me wrong, but still unexpected.”

I haul myself up from my slunked-down position on the big, white, marshmallowy couch. Clearing my face of disappointment, I struggle to replace it with an eagerness to match Damen’s own—an act that proves to be no easy feat after just having failed at my last-ditch idea.