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“Did you get any solar energy?” I ask him, trying to make conversation.

“Enough,” he says with a grunt. He hoists a panel onto his shoulder and turns away from me.

“Enough?”

“Enough that Kincaid might not ask questions about where the hell we’ve been all day,” Dante says.

He ignores me as the boys help him load up the back of the crawler. Erik throws me concerned glances, but no one says anything more about what happened at the ammunition factory.

“Sit up front?” Dante asks when we go to leave. I’m surprised that it’s a request and not a demand.

I look to Jost, and he leans down to my ear and whispers, “You should talk.”

I take the front seat and wait for the lecture to begin, but when Dante finally speaks, it’s not what I’m expecting to hear.

“You should know why I agreed to let you come along—”

“Because you knew I wanted to see the mines,” I guess, but Dante shakes his head.

“I didn’t take you to see the mines or to learn about Sunrunning. I brought you because I didn’t want to leave you at the estate with Kincaid after his little play,” Dante says.

“Kincaid doesn’t realize he’s scaring me,” I say, fully believing it. Kincaid thought unwinding Deniel and staging that play would help me feel safer. In his own way, he’s as twisted as Cormac Patton.

“He knows what he’s doing, Adelice. Kincaid is many things, and you would do well to remember that,” Dante warns. “But I’m sorry, Adelice. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that.”

“No.” I stop him. “It was stupid of me. I clearly don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Dante pauses, shifting the crawler into a higher gear. His eyes flick over to me. “I think we should work on that. You have a magnificent talent, but it won’t do you any good if you can’t control it.”

He’s being reasonable, but I still feel smaller as he speaks. The words are a carefully disguised reprimand—once again, he sounds like my father. I dreaded Benn Lewys’s gentle rebukes more than any punishment he could dole out, usually because I knew he was right. Apparently Dante shares that quality with his brother.

“You’re probably right,” I mumble.

Dante opens his mouth, but then he shuts it again. We’re both trying. Only we have no idea how to do this. The rest of the ride, I concentrate on thinking about how to approach this problem, how to accept what we are to each other, but when we pull through the estate’s gate, I’m no closer to a solution than I was before.

THE ESTATE IS QUIET, HEAVY WITH SLEEP, when we arrive. We part ways with murmured good nights, eager for baths and beds, but Jost takes my hand as we climb the steep stairs into the mansion. He holds my hand when we get inside, but he doesn’t ask what Dante and I were talking about on the ride home.

An angry voice echoes through the silence, and I freeze. Jost tugs me along but not before I overhear the argument.

“You are not to remove her from this estate again,” Kincaid commands. “I expect better judgment from you.”

“It was a simple gathering trip. We set up the panels and enjoyed some sun. It was fine,” Dante says. His lie is smooth and believable.

“This is a warning. Consider what would happen to your precious girl if they caught her. She’s here under my protection.” The song is out of Kincaid’s voice, his words fierce and demanding.

“I appreciate that,” Dante says.

“Do you, Dante?” Kincaid asks. “You have a strange way of showing it.”

Their voices fade, but I’m sure Jost heard it, too: Dante lied for me. I can’t digest what it means, any more than I can understand Jost’s silent treatment.

“Come on,” Jost says. “I’m tired.”

But before we can continue toward our rooms, Dante speaks. He’s quieter than he was with Kincaid, so I dart closer to his voice, coming from the large assembly room. I hide in the shadows of a neglected piano.

“It was a long day, Jax,” Dante says. I imagine him running his hands through his hair as he speaks.

“Trouble?” Jax asks.

“Remnants. Mines. You name it.”

Dante is telling Jax what really happened, which means he trusts him, unlike Kincaid.

“Do I want to know how you got yourself into that mess?” Jax asks.

“My
daughter
.” The word is overemphasized, as though Dante is tasting it to see if he likes it.

“She must take after you,” Jax says, clearly amused.

“Don’t start,” Dante warns. “She could have gotten us all killed, and she might as well have sent Cormac an invitation to our outing. It was so obvious that we were there.”

“What are you going to do about her?”

“Knock some sense into her?” Dante says. “I don’t know. She’s stubborn. Oh, don’t give me that look. I know:
she gets it from me
.”

“She’s been through a lot,” Jax says. “Her life in Arras. Her mother. Even what that scum Deniel tried to do to her. Give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“I’m trying, but I don’t want to see her get killed.” There’s a pause in the conversation, and I realize I’ve stopped breathing. “I barely know her.”

“Do you want to?” Jax asks him.

“Yes, I do.” There’s certainty in his words, and I find I’m relieved.

“Did you manage to get any solar energy above the quota?” Jax asks, changing subjects.

“No. I’m sorry. I know how important it is to your work…”

Jost guides me away, urging me to the elevator. We’re both too tired to take the stairs tonight. I have no more interest in Dante’s conversation, but plenty to contemplate. Dante wants to know me. I’m not sure how to feel about that.

When we reach our suite, Jost fills a basin of hot water in his bathroom and brings it to me. We’re both filthy, covered in dirt from the road and ash from the explosion at the ammunition factory. I dip my hands in the basin, rubbing them clean. I’ll take a bath later.

“Dante was upset,” Jost says finally, and it’s evident from his clipped tone that he is as well.

“According to Dante, I have no control over my talents,” I say.

“You sure about that?” he asks.

“I’m always right,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“Don’t I know it,” he says, unamused. Sullen Jost has returned. Until today’s disastrous events it felt like our relationship had turned a corner, as though we were finally moving forward. I thought he could be happy again. But shades of angry Jost are showing themselves, and suddenly I don’t want to discuss anything with him. Not that he’ll want to talk anyway. He never does when he’s locked inside his own head.

So instead of telling him anything more, I watch him stand and move to the washbasin. I keep watching as he strips off his dirty shirt.

Why don’t I want to go to him? Not so long ago, seeing him like this, being alone with him, would have been enough. But now I feel like I’m the only one wanting, and it’s making me numb.

I force the hurt down and go to him. Before he can turn to me, I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his back. He smells like sweat from our adventures earlier, and when I press my lips to his skin, all I taste is salt.

As I kiss his shoulder, I feel him exhale and then, to my surprise, instead of pulling out of my embrace, he wraps his hands around my wrists and pulls me closer to him.

A shiver runs through me, and I kiss him again. My arms thaw, followed by my chest, until my entire body responds to the contact. I push up on tiptoes to kiss his neck. Then his ear. He spins me to face him but he doesn’t push me away. His arms twist around my waist. But he doesn’t kiss me, he tucks his face against my neck, trailing his lips along until they’re in my hair.

He breathes in deeply and murmurs, “You smell like smoke and fire.”

I smile a little and somehow I know he is smiling, too.

But I don’t let him continue; instead I bring my lips to his. He meets my eagerness, and this kiss is different. His body reacts to mine, crushing closer to me, each of us trying to fuse with the other. I can feel the desperation in our embrace, but there’s want there, too. A need for closeness. A need for something we’ve been denying too long. Something we could lose any moment.

And then he presses me onto my heels and I realize as I stumble back, still kissing him, that he’s leading me to his bed.

I don’t need to think about it. I just have to keep going.

He lays me down gently, and the bed is too small, and I don’t care, because Jost is on top of me and he’s kissing me and I want him. And he wants me.

I bury my face against his chest as he moves back to my neck and I reach for his pants.

His hand grabs my wrist.

And like that the need—the desire—is gone. It sucks from the room, leaving only dry air in its wake.

“Ad,” he manages between breaths, “I can’t.”

“Won’t,” I accuse. It’s the same way he reacted in my room before the play. He pulled away from me then. He’s been pulling away since we got to Earth.

“Don’t start this again,” he says, standing up and grabbing a shirt from the dresser nearby. “I don’t want to argue.”

“Considering you force us to drop it every time we’re in this situation, I wouldn’t call it having an argument,” I snap, smoothing my shirt back into place.

He turns from me and leans against the dresser, and I can’t decide if I should slip out. Is this my cue to exit, because he’s done talking? Or does he expect me to stay? It’s hard to know since he isn’t telling me anything these days. After a few minutes I stand to leave, an embarrassed blush creeping onto my neck.

“Don’t go,” he says softly.

I stop and wait.

“This isn’t easy for me,” he continues.

“And it is for me? Do you think I’m happy here?” I wonder if I’m even capable of happiness anymore, but I don’t say this to Jost. Too much moving forward. Too much planning the next move. There’s no time for happiness, and it’s becoming clear that there’s no possibility of it with what we’ve discovered here. If we can’t get lost with each other, what’s the point?

“I could be happy with you anywhere if…”

And there it is:
if
. I’m not sure what I expect him to say.
If you were happier. If you hadn’t brought Erik. If we weren’t caught in the middle of a war. If. If. If.

“Don’t you understand that we can’t sleep together?” he finally asks. It’s the last direction I expected this conversation to go in.

“Is that what this is about? Sex?” My voice peaks on the word.

“Ad, if we have sex, we can’t go back.”

I stare at him for a long moment, hoping he’ll elucidate what he means, because it makes no sense to me.

“Wait,” I say slowly, starting to grasp the heart of the problem. “Is this because of purity standards?”

“Of course,” he says. “If we have sex, we could go back to Arras to rescue the girls, but your skill is our most powerful weapon. We’ll never get to Sebrina or Amie without it.”

It’s hard to tell which emotion wins out at this proclamation: anger, annoyance, relief? They mingle and leave a sour taste in my mouth.

“You know purity standards aren’t real, right?” I hate how condescending I sound, but I thought Jost was smarter than this.

“How do you know that, Adelice?”

“Seriously? Because Cormac told me but also because half of the Spinsters were sleeping with officials and valets.” I bite my tongue to keep from using Erik as a definite example of this phenomenon.

“Are you willing to risk the girls on a hunch?”

That does it.

“Why don’t you ask your brother?” I say, without hiding the seething frustration in my voice.

“So he screwed Maela. That hardly proves your point. She didn’t have any talent anyway.”

“Well, what about Enora?” I ask. “I’m sure she and Valery, you know…”

“Do you know?” he counters. “Did either of them tell you? Have you asked Valery?”

So that’s it. We’re going to have an argument without any way to prove that I’m right without risking I’m wrong.
Perfect
.

“Cormac wouldn’t have been planning to marry me if sex was going to destroy my skills,” I argue, because I’m sure that was where most of his attraction to me lay.

“But he knew how to map you. He could have fixed your skills after or given them to someone else and kept you home…”

Barefoot and pregnant
. The thought is enough to make me sick.

“You are going to have to trust me on this, Jost. It’s a lie. Ask Erik,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “On second thought, don’t. That would be weird.”

“Come here,” he says, the hostility of his tone dropping off. I bury my face in his chest and marvel at how soft his shirt is and how, even now a world away, it still smells the same as it did in Arras. His scent makes something ache in my chest, but I’m not sure if it’s longing or sadness now.

“Ad, it won’t be much longer, and then…” He trails off, and I can almost hear the hesitation in the air.

“Then?” Surely he won’t reject me then.

“Then we can be a family,” he says, and now I understand.

If sex is the topic Jost is skirting around, then family is the one I’m trying to avoid. I want Amie and Sebrina back, but I’m not sure I’m ready to be a family. Going back for the girls isn’t where things end, it only puts me in more danger than ever. Danger I want to avoid placing the girls in.

“What if we can’t be?” I whisper.

Jost’s eyes narrow and I can see the condemnation in them. “Because you don’t want her.”

I want to deny this. I want to explain the danger and my need to protect Amie and Sebrina, but I can’t. So I don’t say anything at all, which is probably worse.

“I didn’t ask you to be her mother, Ad,” he says quietly, but his tone is anything but soft. It tears with accusation. “Why did you even tell me she was alive?”