“That’s because you’re a brave and honest soul.”

“Aren’t you?” I asked.

“I try to be.”

Which wasn’t the reply I expected, necessarily, but he distracted me by cupping my cheek in his hand and kissing me. His mouth tasted sweet from the cider he’d had at supper, and it was hot on mine, delicate and delicious. One kiss turned into several; he ran his hands over my back, pressing me close. I touched his jaw, feeling his movements as he kissed me. Then I slid my hands into his hair, silky and cool, sliding through my fingers. The heat escalated until I couldn’t sit still, and I fought the urge to climb on top of him. By the time he pulled free, he was shivering as if he had a fever. Worried, I touched his brow, and he gave a shaky laugh.

“I’m not sick, Deuce. You don’t know your own charm.”

My charm? I hadn’t been aware I had any. It must be the dress, I thought.

“Hm.”

I felt shaky, fluttery in ways that embarrassed me, like I could never get close enough to him, no matter how hard I tried. The warmth of his palms on my back made me want to arch like a sleepy cat. So I drew away, partly in self-defense, and left only my hand in his. From his expression, he understood the tactical retreat, but his fingers stroked mine as if to keep those sensations alive. Tingles spread from my fingertips up my arms to sharp little sparks in my elbows.

“Do you like it here?” he asked.

“In Salvation or with the Oakses?”

“Both. Either.”

I nodded. “It’s different, and some of their beliefs don’t make sense, but overall, I do, very much.”

“Then you’re not sorry.”

In his dark eyes, I saw another question, so I shook my head. “Not anymore. I wouldn’t go back if I had the option. I have more freedom here.”

A sigh escaped him, as if he had been worried that I wished I’d never left the enclave. I hadn’t done that for him, though. I’d sacrificed myself so that my friend Stone wouldn’t be sent on the long walk. The only regret I had was that I hadn’t been able to explain to my brat-mate that I’d made a false confession to save him.

Fade took my hand between both of his and bowed his head over it, so a lock of night-black hair tumbled over his brow, hiding his eyes. “Can you explain why you spent so much time with Stalker if you weren’t—if you don’t—”

“If I didn’t give him exclusive kissing rights?” I suspected he was asking a different question, but I couldn’t identify its nature.

He glanced up with a relieved nod. “That. Can you?”

“He made it easy,” I said, wondering if that was clear enough. “He was always around, and I got tired of my own company.”

His brow went up. “So that’s all I have to do? Show up?”

“It’s a start,” I muttered.

For a moment I thought he might get mad, but he laughed. “Well, I wasn’t doing that. I gave up too easy, I guess.”

“I didn’t even know…” I trailed off, struggling to put my confusion into words. “I didn’t realize you believed something about us that wasn’t true.”

A frown lingered on his face, a trace of doubt. It was like he had some picture in his head, and he couldn’t put it aside. I had made things clear, though. There were no secrets standing between us. Then his expression cleared, as if he’d made some decision. Hopefully it was to stop being jealous for no reason.

“That was my mistake,” Fade said, kissing me lightly. “I forgot that if you had something to tell me you’d say it straight out.”

“I would.”

He raised my hand to his mouth. “You don’t recall, but as we came into Salvation, I told you how I felt. When you didn’t reply in kind, I thought … well. Never mind.”

“What did you say?” I asked, fascinated.

Fade laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so. You’ll have to work to hear it again.”

Whatever he’d said, I had a feeling it would be worth the wait. For the first time, I noticed that Fade had been sitting on the edge of the sofa the whole night. I thought back to when Edmund had been telling his story, and sure enough, he had been perched just like this. I wondered if that meant he was nervous, but before I could inquire, he changed the subject.

“Are you happier now that we’re part of the summer patrols?”

I answered, “Of course. I need a purpose.”

“I think everyone does.”

Fade wrapped his arm about my shoulders, drawing me to his side, and I rested my head on his shoulder. “It felt good to fight beside you again.”

His smile warmed me to the tips of my toes. “It did. I don’t think anybody will question your ability to hold your own now.”

He was right; I’d earned my place. Despite the day’s losses and my quiet worry, I felt good about that part. “Do you remember when we go out next?”

“Two weeks, Longshot said. The seeds need time to take root. After that, we’ll patrol regularly so the growers can tend the fields.”

“Remove plants that don’t belong,” I guessed, “And make sure birds aren’t eating the green shoots.”

“That’s what he said.”

If today had been any indication, this task would keep us busy all season. We could expect more Freak attacks, and they might shock us with their capacity for planning. I wished I knew what form that animal cunning might take.

He pushed to his feet, then. “I should go. The Oakses trusted us to have some privacy, and I don’t want to give them a reason not to invite me over again.”

“Good night, Fade.” I stretched up to kiss him.

The farewell lasted longer than I intended. With some effort, he pulled back, breathless, his hands curling into fists so he didn’t reach for me again. “I really have to go now. Before I forget all the reasons why.”

I went up to bed after he left … but guilt over the way I’d treated Stalker wouldn’t let me sleep. I expected a tap on my window tonight, and I unlatched it because he deserved an explanation. I couldn’t continue being a coward. Half an hour later, he slid inside and landed lightly. My room was candlelit, throwing long shadows. At once I saw that his anger had died into quiet confusion.

He stayed near the window, not approaching me. “I only came because I want to understand. You were lonely? You were using me?”

“No. We’re friends … and sparring partners. That’s what we always have been … and still are.”

“You didn’t make it feel like that,” he snapped. “Or at least, you gave me the impression it might be more someday.”

“I’m sorry.”

“This hurts,” he said wonderingly, as if he couldn’t have imagined the feeling before I inflicted it on him.

“I didn’t mean to.”

He laughed, a bitter sound. “That’s all right, then.” Stalker climbed halfway through the window, just about done with the conversation—and me. But he turned for a final, parting shot. “He won’t make you happy, dove. He’s soft in ways you and I aren’t. Ultimately, you’re going to break him.”

As I lay in bed, unable to sleep, those words echoed in my ears and I feared to my core that Stalker was right.

Bigwater

Tegan came to visit me a week later, and I felt glad of the break, as I was mending with Momma Oaks.

Of us all, my friend had changed the most in Salvation. She hadn’t been as pale as Fade and I had to start with and her skin was naturally darker than Stalker’s. Months after our arrival, her complexion took on a coppery cast, which complemented her dark curls prettily. She wore them piled on her head in an intricate style I couldn’t hope to replicate, and she had on a new yellow dress that Mrs. Tuttle had commissioned from Momma Oaks.

I wondered if Tegan felt ready to resume our friendship. I’d missed her. Since Fade and Stalker wanted to kiss me, I couldn’t talk to them about certain things. With my foster mother’s blessing, the two of us fetched drinks and snacks, then went out to the swing. For several moments, only the squeak of the chain filled the silence.

In the distance, I heard men arguing, though not angrily, followed by the peal of children’s laughter. Salvation had a different atmosphere from College’s. Down below, it was tighter run—and there was less time for casual conversation. With our limited resources, however, it had to be that way. Here, people talked to each other more for the sake of it, exchanged news and tidbits of gossip without fear of censure.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when…” She trailed off, knowing I’d understand what she meant. “I just had so much to think about. First, it was my leg, and once I got better, there was school. I felt like I had to focus on fitting in, and—”

“I don’t.” Apart from my fellow guards, people had made that clear.

“You make your own rules. I respect that, but I’m not you. I want folks to like me. I love it here.”

“I don’t expect you to walk my path,” I said.

She smiled. Over the past months, she’d put on some weight, so she no longer looked fragile. Clearly her foster parents had been feeding her properly, but despite their care, Tegan limped more than Thimble—and the thought of my old friend sent pain shooting through my chest. I didn’t know what had happened to her or Stone, and maybe I never would. However, Tegan would get better as her leg healed; it wasn’t a permanent disability. She was already stronger than she had been.

Ruthlessly, I put the past where it belonged and asked, “Are you still working with Doc?”

She nodded. “I’ve learned a lot. He says I have a real knack and I might be able to take over doctoring someday.”

“You don’t mind dealing with sick and injured people?” That required a fortitude I didn’t possess.

“No. It makes me feel good, actually. With Doc’s help, I’m learning how to make a difference.”

At the school back in the ruins, I remembered Stalker yelling how she had no useful skills. He couldn’t say that anymore.

“How does Mrs. Tuttle feel about it?”

A faint sigh escaped her. “At first, she wasn’t wild about the idea. She said certain parties wouldn’t approve, but Doc thinks it won’t do any harm.”

It sounded to me like Salvation could use some shaking up. New blood with fresh ideas might be just what the town needed. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine healer.”

She went on, “Anyway, I just didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten what we talked about. Or the fact that I wouldn’t even be here, if it wasn’t for you.”

“Fade too.” If he hadn’t carried her most of the way through the wilderness, Tegan wouldn’t have survived. Stalker had taken a turn too, but I doubted she cared to be reminded that she owed him even a small portion of her gratitude. On the scales between them, it was inadequate for what she’d endured with the Wolves. Disquiet shivered through me.