“Oh,” said Nova. “Right.” Her fingers were trembling as she tucked the mask back into the pouch. “Thanks?” She stepped around Adrian and headed toward the waiting boat.

No one jumped forward to stop her. There were no weapons directed her way. The captain even tipped his hat as he welcomed her aboard.

As soon as her feet were no longer on the dock, giddy ripples pulsed beneath her skin. Most of Adrian’s apology was lost in the tumult of her confused thoughts, but there were phrases that clung to her, loud and clear.

Adrian had never stopped caring for her … even when he believed she was Nightmare? She wanted to dig further into that statement, but she resisted, knowing that she didn’t deserve his remorse.

And also … boyfriend? This, too, echoed in her memory as she sat on the first narrow bench, scooting over to the window of the boat and grateful that no guards stepped forward to latch her ankle to the metal rings on the wet floor. She laid the flowers across her lap, their wrapping of butcher paper crinkling against her knees.

Adrian sat beside her, but left a couple of inches between them.

One guard untied the boat from the dock and the other thumped the roof of the boat, indicating they were cleared for departure. The engine rumbled, and within seconds they were pulling away from the rocks and the island and the gray, cold prison that sat foreboding at the top of the cliff, its massive walls and guard towers fading into the pervasive fog.

Nova shivered as she watched it disappear, torn between her joy at Adrian’s apology, her relief at being free of that place, but also the knowledge that Ace was still there.

“Here,” said Adrian, unbuttoning his coat. Nova watched mutely as he snaked his arms from the sleeves and draped it over her shoulders. Warmth blanketed her, mingling with the spicy scent of aftershave that she hadn’t even known she’d memorized until then. It only served to make the moment seem even more unreal.

“How are you feeling?” asked Adrian. “They didn’t … You weren’t hurt in there, were you?”

“No,” she answered, sending her focus back to the island, though it quickly became a ghostly outline and nothing more. “But no one’s told me anything. What happened? How was I cleared?”

Adrian grimaced. “It was brought to our attention that all the evidence we thought we had against you was … circumstantial.”

Nova dared to meet his gaze, ignoring how her heart sputtered at the sight of him and how he was once again watching her with affection. The affection she’d been sure she would never see again. She hadn’t realized how she’d been starved for a soft look from Adrian, or one of his signature smiles. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to crave his steady presence, his unwavering goodness. She dug her fingers into the fabric of his coat, pulling it tighter around her shoulders.

“It didn’t hurt,” he continued, somewhat wryly, “that Nightmare herself was the one who brought that to our attention.”

Nova started, thinking she must have been too caught up in her emotion to have heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

Adrian started to tell her a story that left her more baffled than before. Nightmare showed up at a department store and proceeded to taunt them about how she had framed Insomnia? Nightmare was … she was the mirror walker?

Nova’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“I know, it was hard for me to wrap my mind around it at first, too. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more it makes sense. Of course she would want to frame you, of all people, after what happened between the Detonator and the Librarian. And why she would choose the fun house at the carnival for her hideout spot—it had that hall of mirrors, remember? And also how she got into our house to steal the Vitality Charm without being caught on our surveillance systems, and how she got all that stuff from the artifacts department. Every bathroom has a mirror in it, and every building has bathrooms. That’s how she gets around so easily. Plus, she’s had access to all those black-market weapons, and a connection to the Anarchists, through her grandfather’s business. It all fits together.”

Nova gaped at him, feeling mildly insulted.

They thought Narcissa Cronin was Nightmare? She’d seen the girl fight, and it wasn’t exactly impressive.

“Plus,” Adrian added, “she had the helmet.”

“The helmet?” said Nova, her mind still reeling. “You mean … the helmet?”

He nodded. “That confirmed it for everyone when we told the Council. They ordered for you to be released immediately. Everyone is back at headquarters, scrambling to secure it against Nightmare, now that we know what we know. Taking down all the mirrors. I need to go secure the house, too, but I needed to be here for you first. I owed you that much.”

He lowered his head sorrowfully, and Nova could sense another stream of apologies brewing. Before he could start, she asked, “What about Danna?”

He sat back against the bench, his hands interlocking in his lap. “She’s fully recovered. Doing great.”

“I mean … what did she say when … she was told that she was wrong? That I’m not Nightmare.”

Suddenly avoiding her gaze, Adrian looked out toward the water, in the direction they were heading. There was a wall dividing them from the captain at the helm, and the boat’s single guard had stayed out on the deck, so they were alone in this tiny room with its freezing-cold metal benches and mildew-covered windows. “She … admitted that she might have been mistaken,” Adrian finally said, making it easy for Nova to deduce what he wasn’t saying.

Danna wasn’t convinced. She would still be a threat, but Nova hoped she was a threat that would be at least temporarily nullified.

She had other things to worry about. Like what was she going to do to save Ace, with his execution looming.

And why, for all the diabolical schemes, was Narcissa Cronin pretending to be her?

“Adrian,” she said, as the Gatlon skyline began to emerge from the thick mist, “are they still going to execute Ace Anarchy?”

He turned back to her, but this time she was avoiding his eyes, lest he see her horror.

“Yes,” he said. “At the reveal of Agent N, after they neutralize the rest of the Cragmoor inmates. The Council is convinced it’s the best way to show the world that … well, that the Renegades won’t tolerate crime and anarchy.”

Her jaw tightened. She wondered, not for the first time, if Adrian had any idea how closely related the Council’s ideas of crime and anarchy were to her ideas of freedom and self-reliance.

It didn’t really matter, though. She had a lot of time to think while she was in her cell at Cragmoor, and she was returning to Gatlon City with new plans. Even some new ideals.

She had begun to dream of a future for herself and the others that was different from any future she’d ever dared to envision before. And though, at the time, she’d believed she wouldn’t have any future at all, now she couldn’t help but wonder what might be possible.

But first, above all else, she needed to find a way to stop them from killing Ace. She needed to rescue him, as so many years ago he had rescued her.

The blare of a foghorn rumbled over the choppy waves. It was early morning, and the lights of the city were shimmering off the damp air. Orange floodlights shone on the outline of the pier where the boat would soon pull in to the dock. Squinting, Nova could barely make out a number of shadowy forms waiting there, but couldn’t tell who they might be. She had a brief fantasy that it would be her family, the closest thing to a family she’d ever had. Honey. Leroy. Phobia.

Well, not Phobia, so much.

Or even Ruby and Oscar. Even Danna, who Nova had found herself liking despite Danna’s obvious suspicions. Or Max, she thought. She was startled when her mind even painted Simon Westwood and Hugh Everhart into that picture. A family, waiting to welcome her home. Any family.

She sighed, knowing that all of these daydreams were flawed in one way or another. Knowing that future would never come to pass.

A hand, warm and strong, slid over hers, making the paper around the flowers crinkle in the silence. Nova flipped her hand over and laced their fingers together.

“Nova…”

“I forgive you,” she whispered, smiling at him. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

The lines on his face slowly melted away, softening with relief. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, which was when she noticed the lump at the base of his wrist. Nova flipped his hand over and pushed up his sleeve, revealing a thick square bandage on his forearm. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” he said.

A little too quickly.

Nova frowned at him.

Adrian cringed. “I mean, it’s sort of something. I’m … trying something new. Here.” He peeled back one side of the bandage. Where she had expected to see a wound of some sort was … a tattoo.

It was fairly recent, by the looks of it. Scabs had formed over the black ink lines, and the skin around it was swollen and red.

Nova took his arm and twisted it toward the grayish light streaming through the window. The tattoo depicted a tower, like a castle turret, sitting atop a hill. The top of a heart could be seen barely visible over the wall, while the grassy slope at the tower’s base was littered with fallen arrows.

“Okay…,” Nova said, not quite sure what to make of it. “What does it mean?”

“Protection.” Adrian sounded a little sheepish as he reaffixed the bandage. “I…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve had this idea, lately, that maybe my power can transfer to tattoos. I mean, it doesn’t really matter if I draw with marker or crayon or chalk or paint … so why not tattoo ink?”

“You did this yourself?”

“Yes. And I know it might sound a little far-fetched, but … I thought I should try it and see what happens.”

“Try what, exactly?”

“To see if I can give myself a tattoo that’s … you know, more than just a tattoo.” He lightly pressed his thumb over the bandage, before pulling his sleeve back down. “I thought this one could be useful in a fight. Something that I could use for protection, if I needed it.”