“Don’t I know it.” I try to smile for him, just a little, but something about smiling pulls the skin on my face, which in turn twists my neck and the new scars there. They ache when I speak, and smart terribly under any more strain. Another thing Maven has taken away. How happy it must make him, to think I can no longer smile without searing pain. “Farley and Shade are with them, at least?”

The boys nod in unison, and I almost giggle at the sight. They are normally like opposites. Kilorn is lean where Cal is burly. Kilorn is golden-haired and green-eyed while Cal is dark with a gaze like living fire. But here, in the waning light, behind the film of blood clouding my gaze, they start to seem alike.

“Crance too,” Cal adds.

I blink, perplexed. “Crance? He’s here? He’s . . . with us?”

“Not like he had anywhere else to go,” Cal says.

“And you . . . you trust him?”

Kilorn leans against the wall, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “He saved Ada, and he’s helped bring back others in the past few days. Why shouldn’t we trust him? Because he’s a thief?”

Like me. Like I was. “Point taken.” Even so, I can’t forget the high cost of misplaced faith. “But we can’t be sure, can we?”

“You’re not sure of anyone,” Kilorn sighs, annoyed. He scuffs his shoe in the dirt, wanting to say more, knowing he shouldn’t.

“He’s out with Farley now. Not a bad scout,” Cal adds in support. Of Kilorn. I’m almost in shock.

“Are you two agreeing on something? What world am I waking up in?”

A true smile splits Cal’s face, as well as Kilorn’s.

“He’s not as bad as you make him out to be,” Kilorn says, nodding at the prince.

Cal laughs. A soft noise, tainted by all that came before. “Likewise.”

I prod at Cal’s shoulder, just to make sure he’s solid. “I guess I’m not dreaming.”

“Thank my colors, you’re not,” Cal murmurs, his smile gone again. He runs a hand along his jaw, scratching through a slim beard. He hasn’t shaved since Archeon, since the night he watched his father die. “Ada’s more useful than the outlaws, if you can believe it.”

“I can.” A swirl of abilities flashes through my mind, each one more powerful than the last. “What does she do?”

“Nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he admits. His bracelet crackles, throwing off sparks that soon turn into a twisting ball of flame. It idles in his hand a moment, never burning his sleeve, before he lazily tosses it to the small pit dug in the middle of the floor. The fire throws off heat and light, replacing the setting sun. “She’s smart, incredibly so. Remembers every word in every book in the governor’s library.”

And just like that, my vision of another warrior is snuffed out. “Helpful,” I bite out. “I’ll be sure to ask her to tell us a story later on.”

“Told you she wouldn’t get it,” Kilorn says.

But Cal presses on. “She has perfect memory, perfect intelligence. Every moment of every day, every face she’s ever seen, every word she’s ever overheard she remembers. Every medical journal or history book or map she’s ever read, she understands. The same goes for practical lessons, too.”

As much as I’d prefer a storm wielder, I can understand the value of a person like this. If only Julian was here. He’d spend day and night studying Ada, trying to understand such a strange ability. “Practical lessons? You mean like Training?”

Something like pride crosses Cal’s face. “I’m no instructor, but I’m doing what I can to teach her. She’s already a pretty decent shot. And she finished the Blackrun flight manual this morning.”

A gasp escapes my lips. “She can fly the jet?”

Cal shrugs, lips curling into a smirk. “She flew the others to Cancorda, and should be back soon. But until then, you should rest.”

“I’ve rested for four days. You rest,” I fire back, reaching over to shake his shoulder. He doesn’t budge under my admittedly weak shove. “You both look like the walking dead.”

“Someone had to make sure you kept breathing.” Kilorn’s tone is light, and another might think him joking, but I know better. “Whatever Maven did to you can’t happen again.”

The memory of white-hot pain is still too near for me. I can’t help but flinch at the thought of going through it once more. “I agree.”

It sobers us all, the thought of what new power Maven holds. Even Kilorn, always twitching or pacing, is still. He glares out the window, at the wall of oncoming night. “Cal, you got any ideas in case she runs into that thing again?”

“If I’m going to get a lecture, I might need some water,” I say, suddenly aware of my parched throat. Kilorn all but jumps from his place at the wall, eager to help. Leaving me alone with Cal, and the heat closing in.

“I think it was a sounder device. Modified, of course,” Cal says. His eyes stray back to my neck, to the lightning bolt scars marching up and down my spine. With shocking familiarity, he traces them again, as if they hold some clue. The intelligent part of me wants to push him away, to stop the fire prince from examining my brands, but exhaustion and need overrule any other thoughts. His touch is soothing, physically and emotionally. It’s proof that someone else is with me. I am not alone in the abyss anymore.