She held her hands out over the tinder and pulled. A moment later, water condensed onto her hands, cool against her palms. She kept tugging until the sticks were drained and brittle, then brought her cupped palms to her mouth to drink. The water tasted brighter, somehow, not quite like what they’d drunk from the Well.

“Did you just pull water out of the air?” Tal and Elan were both staring at her—it was Tal who’d asked the question, his voice awed.

She shook her head and wiped her palms on her thighs. “Not quite. I pulled it out of the tinder. And now…” She picked the flint back up and struck it. This time, the spark caught. She leaned down and breathed on it, and a minute later, small flames lapped at the sticks they’d piled up.

“Incredible,” Elan murmured.

Jae smiled, her cheeks warming a little.

Tal was the one who attempted cooking over the fire, placing fruit and roots on stones tucked up against the flames. Cooking brought out the flavors and made the food more tender, so as the sun sank, they were able to have another fully satisfying meal.

They took turns keeping the fire burning through the evening, a ring of rocks in place to keep it from getting out of hand as they settled in for the night. Even during the day, the temperature was cooler by the Well than it had been in the open desert, and at night without any bedding, they definitely needed fire for warmth. As the temperature dropped, Jae leaned against Tal, sharing their body heat, while Elan sat against the cliff’s base only a few hand spans away.

The stars came out, twinkling to life above them, beautiful and bright in the endless sky. If she hadn’t been terrified for Aredann, the night would have been perfect. She’d been able to eat and drink her fill, without worrying about rations or begging for scraps left after others had eaten. There was no shortage of food or water out here, and she’d had time to rest and recover from the ordeal in the desert. She was truly clean for the first time in years, having scrubbed the sand and sweat from her body and her clothes both. Even her hair, which she’d kept cropped as close to her scalp as possible for years, had started to grow out, and she didn’t mind.

And there was no fear. Out here, removed from civilization entirely, no one could try to steal her hard-won freedom, and no one could threaten Tal. He was still cursed, but it barely seemed like it, with no one giving him any orders. There was only the three of them, as if no one else existed.

“I think I could stay out here forever,” Jae said.

Tal made a quiet noise of assent, and after a moment, Elan said, “I would stay with you.”

Jae blinked, and twisted to stare at him. He wasn’t looking at her, and the moonlight was bright against his face but threw the rest of him into shadow.

“Interesting choice,” Tal said to him.

Elan shrugged a little. “It’s not like I have anything to go back to. No one who knew me will ever speak to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” Tal said.

“I’m not,” Elan said. “Not too sorry, anyway. I chose…I knew what he’d do if I questioned him. And I did it anyway.”

“Why?” Jae asked, letting her genuine curiosity win out over good manners. She only knew what it was like to fight for every scrap she had; she couldn’t imagine having so much and walking away from it all.

Elan looked back at her. “I thought that was obvious.”

She blinked. That answer wasn’t exactly helpful. Next to her, Tal chuckled so softly that Jae felt the movement more than anything else. She elbowed him gently.

“Because I believe in you,” Elan said. “And…and I wanted to help people. Even back at Danardae, when Lady Palma asked me to speak to my father about her estate…I knew something wasn’t right, and I wanted to help. I thought my fa—His Highest”—Elan stumbled over the title—“was helping. It’s his sworn duty. But he wasn’t. He’s a liar and—everything I believed was a lie, and—once I knew the truth, I couldn’t ignore it.”

Jae had even less of an idea what to say to that, but Tal mused, “No wonder he disavowed you. But I think you’re better off without him.”

“So do I,” Elan said. “I just wish…My sister. I won’t miss the rest of them, but if my sister knew the truth, she’d do the right thing, too.”

“She might already know,” Jae said. “She’s the heir.”

“She doesn’t,” Elan said, conviction ringing in his voice. “She’d never stand for the lies.”

Jae doubted that, but she’d never met Elan’s sister, so she didn’t say anything. With everything Elan had lost, if he needed to have faith in his sister, she wouldn’t fight him on that. Especially not when Tal rolled over next to her and she thought about losing him. She couldn’t imagine coping after that. Losing Tal would be like the brand on Elan’s skin. A painful wound that might someday scab over but never fully heal, leaving a scar that would last forever.

Elan had given himself that wound by believing Jae, by following her. He’d done what he thought was right, and had lost everything for it.

Jae rolled away from Tal a little bit, tucked her hands under her head, and went back to watching the stars. She didn’t look over at Elan again, but she couldn’t forget how near he was, either.

Guilt gnawed at her, a feeling oddly like hunger, but she refused to dwell on it. Sighing, she tried to find a comfortable position on the cold, muddy ground.

Tal nudged her, and when she looked at him, he raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

She frowned, answering with a question of her own.

He nodded toward Elan.

She turned away, not wanting to ask what Tal was thinking. Even out here the Curse would force him to answer honestly, and she didn’t think she wanted to hear it.

Elan stared down at the Well. From up here on the cliff top he could see for ages into the distance, but he still couldn’t make out the far shore. Even if the Well was going dry the way Jae believed, it was incredible. With rays from the morning sun reflecting and dazzling, it was almost too beautiful to look at.

No wonder people had been willing to fight for the Well, to die to possess it. It was beauty and power both, a hypnotic combination. He’d always lived comfortably at Danardae, knowing he’d never want for water, as his family controlled one of the four enormous linked reservoirs. But they were nothing compared to this. Even if, generations ago, the Highest had somehow rightfully controlled those four reservoirs—a fact he now doubted—he could understand why they hadn’t been enough. Nothing would be, compared to this.