I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen such grace as she captured one after another, first with a snare she’d pulled from her ropelike belt, then another with a hand-carved spear, and yet another with a knife she chucked from at least twenty paces away.

She felled each one with the precision of a seasoned soldier.

I’d never realized hunting could be so exhilarating.

That is, until she signaled me to come down from my perch in the tree and taught me how to kill and skin the tiny beasts. That was when my breakfast of soft cheese and crusty bread started to come back up.

It wasn’t the blood. Somehow she knew how to minimize the bloodshed. It was the smell as she peeled the pelt away from the stringy layers of muscle and fatty tissue beneath. I had to cover my mouth and nose to keep from retching.

I caught her giggling in my direction more than once. It was humiliating but enlightening. And at least I now knew how to hunt and kill, even if I might never be capable of putting that particular skill into practice.

By the time we’d had a chance to bundle our catch and clean up, Brook was just loading the last of the supplies onto the VAN.

Eden gave her brother one last reproachful glare. “You can still change your mind,” she told him in what I could only assume was her idea of an invitation to join us.

Caspar didn’t answer her. Instead he wiped the grease from his hands on the front of his pants and then threw his arms around his older sister. “Take care,” he said in a voice that sounded like it might crack at any second. “And just so you know, I fully expect you to bring that beast back here in one piece.”

Eden hugged him back, and grinned when she responded, “I assume you mean the VAN and not Brooklynn.” And then she used the back of his shirt to wipe her own hands. “Aw,” he complained, shoving Eden—and her greasy hands—away from him. Then he considered her words and winked in Brook’s direction. “Now that you mention it, I’ll take either.”

With that, we climbed inside and started the engine, filling the entire building with fat clouds of black smoke.

aron Aron threw the last of his belongings into his satchel and zipped it shut. He’d be glad to leave this place. Not that it didn’t have its charms, what with its lack of running hot water and the shortage of privacy and all. But despite the lack of creature comforts, he’d been prepared to do his job and stay for the duration of the install, until the last of the communication equipment was up and running.

As it was, he’d be leaving with the job incomplete. All because of the message he’d received from Max.

Brook, Charlie, and Eden were missing.

No, not missing. They’d taken it upon themselves to go to Astonia to try to stop the war.

Brooklynn. How many nights had Aron lain awake thinking about her? How many times had he imagined going home to her?

Sure, she was rude and unpredictable, but damn the girl could kiss. And he’d never known anyone nearly as passionate. She loved and hated with equal intensity.

He just hoped he fell on the right side of that line.

The last thing he’d ever expected was that he’d have to abandon his duties to go in search of her. Not Brook. She was too tough and independent to need his help. Yet here he was, packing his bags and preparing to run after her.

The message that had come in over the communication device had been specific. He was to meet Max just outside the Left Harbor no later than nightfall tomorrow.

That didn’t give him much time, especially in light of the fact that there were no trains running along the coast, and that he’d be traveling alone—another explicit message from Max. He was to tell no one of their plans, or what Charlie and the others had done.

They couldn’t risk letting anyone know that the queen of Ludania had gone AWOL.

“Aron.” He spun around to see one of the communication engineers he’d been assigned to share quarters with. His roommate wasn’t much older than he was but had attended university with the other former counsel kids, and he had a way of making Aron feel inadequate because of his education and his upbringing. No one ever said so out loud, but Aron got the feeling they considered him the queen’s lapdog.

“Yeah,” Aron answered absently, tugging his satchel up and adjusting the straps.

“We got another message. Just a few moments ago.”

Aron stopped what he was doing and raised his head. His roommate was watching him, and the graveness of his expression made Aron set his bag back down on his bed. “For me?”

“For everyone.” That somberness permeated his voice. “It’s bad. You should come to the Communication Depot.” Aron shook his head, his stomach plummeting. “Just tell me.”

There was a moment before his roommate spoke, and in that moment Aron held his breath, imagining the worst— about Charlie, or Brooklynn. His heart ceased to beat as too many possibilities raced through his head.

But what he heard was worse. Much, much worse.

“Queen Elena’s troops have been spotted nearing the border and will be crossing in a matter of hours.” He paused, but only long enough to swallow. “She’s declared war on Ludania.”

Aron reached for his bag and ran for the door, more desperate than ever to reach the Left Harbor and Max. He’d be damned if he’d leave Brooklynn and Charlie out there on their own.

He had to find them before they ran right into an army of soldiers who’d like nothing more than to put Charlie’s head on a spike and present it to their queen.