Sloan and I gather our meager belongings, don our new coats and make our way outside. The air is as bitterly cold as I remember, despite the bright rays of light and warmth spilling from the sun, but with every blast of wind, our clothes actually heat. I scan the surrounding sidewalks for Archer... Killian. There’s no sign of either boy.

Archer can’t approach me until I invite him back. Killian can show up at any time.

As promised, a black sedan waits at the curb. As we step forward, the back door opens without outward assistance. I hesitate only a moment before sliding onto the cushioned leather seats.

The partition blocking us from the driver is shaded, hiding our identities. And his. A fact that makes me nervous, but I say nothing, merely remaining on alert. Get to the airport, get to the States.

We motor forward, soon twisting and turning along a thin, treacherous road that offers no railing to prevent a plummet over the side of the mountain. There are signs posted along the way.

Light Brings Sight!

Might Equals Right!

We HART You! Humans Against Realm Turmoil!

Don’t Believe the Lies! Realms Are Simply a Way to Control You!

Sloan looks away from the window and sighs. “What are you going to do after you buy your beach house and learn to surf?”

“Stuff myself on Twinkies and Ding Dongs and finally figure out my eternal future.” And it’ll be easy...maybe. There will be no one to pressure me.

She gives me a double thumbs-down. “I’m going to marry the first unsuitable suitor I can find.” She spreads her arms and throws back her head, laughing. “Granny will be soooo ticked.”

“Did she really try to force you to marry some old fart just to save her estate?”

“Oh, yes, she surely did.” Anger and bitterness twist her expression. “One day, I’m going to burn down the ancestral estate. But I don’t want to discuss my revenge.”

Afraid I’ll try to change her mind? “No prob. You were boring me, anyway.”

She snorts. Then she shifts nervously in her seat and rubs her hands over her thighs. “So... I wanted to wait until I had my head wrapped around the details before I talked to you about this, but, well, I’m too eager. I have new Laborers. My TL is Deacon, and my ML is Elena. She visited before my shower, and afterward I actually called for my TL. Just said, I’d like to speak with someone from Troika, and he appeared.”

I go on higher alert. “And?”

“Myriad offered me a house of my own design, any car I desire and a hundred-thousand-dollar bonus deposited straight into my bank account. For my Everlife, I’m to train as a Laborer.”

My heart flutters. “Did you accept?”

“No, but for the first time in my life, I’m actually thinking about it. I’m not sure Many Ends is as bad as we’ve heard, but if there’s a remote possibility, well, I need a new Everlife plan.”

“What did the Deacon guy offer?”

“Same thing Archer offered Clay. Family, aid whenever requested, you know the rest.”

“You interested in that?”

“Are you kidding? I hate my family. Why would I willingly sign on for another one? But, girl, Deacon is hot, so of course I said I’d think about it. I’m considering allowing him to plead his case...in bed.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re as bad as Killian.”

When the car stops, I peer out the window to see a line of caves—the airport? Seriously? In one of the caves, I can make out the nose of a plane, the wings retracted to fit inside the smallish hole.

“I think we have a talent for going from bad to worse,” Sloan mutters.

“Agreed.” Up ahead, there’s a long stretch of flat ice. Most likely the runway. Seems perfectly safe.

The door swings open, but this time it’s courtesy of a man—the driver.

“Hallo, Ten.” Killian smiles at me, slow and wicked. “So good to see you again.”

Butterflies dance in my stomach a split second before anger mows over them, shredding their wings. I glare up at him. “Your actions led to the death of my friend.”

His smile vanishes. “Clay is in the Everlife now. We should be happy for him.”

Happy? Happy? “Your favorite little motto—Victors Are Adored and Failures Are Abhorred—is garbage. You might have won your skirmish with Archer, but you lost my respect.”

An unreadable mask falls over his features. “I said should be, Ten, not that I am. I haven’t been able to forget your words. If victory is achieved the wrong way, it’s not really a victory at all. I didn’t want your friend to die. Especially not that way.”

“And yet you helped kill him.”

His gaze lifts, staring at the other side of the mountain. “One day, you’ll see him again.”

“That doesn’t negate the loss I feel now. His Firstlife mattered. To me! To him! He had hopes and dreams.” I swallow a sob.

If I ultimately choose Myriad, Clay will become my enemy despite his claim to the contrary, and I hate the very idea. But war is war.

“Firstlife matters,” I repeat.

“Hear, hear,” Sloan calls. “I’m looking forward to wrinkled skin, gray hairs and most especially the use of diapers.”

“Maybe it does matters,” he says, acting as if she didn’t speak, his attention steady on me, “but it’s still not the end. When you live as long as we do, loss is inevitable. You have to learn to let go.”

Never! “Some things are worth clinging to, no matter the cost. If you have nothing to lose, well, I pity you.”

He scowls at me. “Never pity me.”

I blow him a kiss. “Pride is a weakness.”

His scowl deepens as he offers me his hand.

I take it, asking through gritted teeth, “How did you know about the car?”

He remains directly in front of me, keeping the sunlight out of my eyes. “Steven owed me a favor, ta. I cashed it in.”

His accent is stronger than usual, his voice huskier. “A Troikan owed a Myriadian a favor? How did that happen?”

“With great skill.” The mask falls away, and he looks at me with something akin to desperation. “I spy, and I wait. When circumstances appear hopeless, I offer hope...for a price. I’m owed thousands of debts.”

A deal with the devil. But...part of me suspects he’s trying, once again, to impress me with his strength, reverting to old habits. It may be kinda sorta endearing, and it softens me when I want so badly to remain fortified against him.

His gaze sinks to my wrist, and he practically vibrates with happiness. “You like your present.”

I sigh. “I do.” I’m not one of those girls who can’t accept a gift. Gimme. “Thank you.”

Sloan slides out behind me, saying, “Maybe you didn’t see or hear me, handsome. Surprise! Here I am! I’d love to catch up.” She moves around me to link her arm with his and draw him away from me.

He allows it, frowning at me over his shoulder, as if he’s unsure how to proceed.

Again, it’s endearing.

“We’ve been so vulnerable on our own,” she continues. “We’re so weak, and here you are, a big strong slice of beefcake, ready to save the day.” When they reach the wall of the cave, where the nose of the aircraft peeks out, she pushes him with all her might, and presses a toothbrush shank against his carotid. “Or not. Lookit. I know your type. Sweet when things are going your way, but meaner than a wet panther when they’re not.” The sugar has abandoned her tone completely, leaving only anger. “I’d rather die than allow you to hurt Ten. Rephrase. I’d rather kill you than allow you to hurt Ten.”