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I haven’t spoken a single word since Ryx called me a leech.

I don’t want to, either.

But.

A very big but: if this presence I’m sensing is a threat, I should say something. It’s the decent thing to do.

I keep thinking something will change here. That Ryx is going to come to his senses, remember the past with crystal clarity. That he’ll show me that soft center I know is buried under layers of grit and angst. If Patryn were alive, I’d reem him a new one for feeding me false hope like this. Painting a pretty picture where the only person I ever loved would willingly accept me back. That we’d go on this grand adventure to unravel all the mysteries surrounding that day and help the rebellion rise.

Stupid.

“There’s a stream up ahead. It’ll be cold, but we can wash up and refill our canteens.”

I don’t answer his abrupt statement.

Ryx glances over his shoulder, waiting for acknowledgment. The only one he gets is a rather nasty glare before I turn my attention to the trees. I pretend they’re immensely fascinating. Damn it, I need to mention the presence. Judging by the general size of New Grove, whoever it is must be a mile out. Maybe closer…

“There was a tree,” Ryx says, almost absently. He stops mid-stride, fingers twitching. His dark eyebrows furrow, eyes squinting like he can see something.

“What?”

“No, that’s not right.” He shakes his head, scratches the back of it, then frowns harder. “No. No, there was one. Big, thick branch. And when you sat on it you could see—”

“All of New Grove,” I whisper, finally catching on.

Ryx whips his head toward me. His eyes are so big, it’d almost be funny if I wasn’t in such a shit mood. The veins that litter his face pulse faintly. “I—” His throat bobs as several emotions flash through his stare. “Is it real?”

“Of course,” I say, impatiently. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Whatever door he let open is kicked shut in an instant. He shuts down, clenching his jaw and scoffing. “If not for the fact that I know it isn’t possible, I’d say you were putting shit in my head. We have to move.”

As he marches forward, leaving me behind, I gape at his back.

“Wait,” I rush out, jogging after him. “You didn’t remember our tree?”

“Our?” he sneers. “I don’t remember you being there at all.”

Without thinking, I grab his shoulder and force him to stop. The fabric of his cloak barely buffers the clash and static of our masteries. His nostrils flare, eyes flicking to my hand. “What do you remember?”

Shrugging me off, he crosses his arms as a muscle feathers in his jaw. “Pieces. Bits. Nothing that makes fucking sense.”

“How is that possible? How did you forget everything?”

“Not everything,” he snaps. “I remember being beaten bloody. Having my ears ripped at, nose broken, and a tooth flying from my face.” He pulls back his cheek to show me the gap in his upper jaw, right behind his left incisor. “I remember you watching them do it. Crying because you didn’t want to get in trouble.”

“What?” I yell. “That’s what you think?!”

For a split second, he seems unsure, but then he doubles down. “It’s what I know.”

“Ryx, that’s not what happ—” My words die in my throat as my mastery snags on someone.

The rush is instant. Every inch of me stiffens. The horrible itch behind my eye throbs painfully. Ryx’s words are nothing but static buzzing as I seek it out. I wet my lips, a wicked grin splitting them.

“Found you,” I rasp and take off in a sprint.

“SAREN!”

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