I think it’s because he’s afraid I’ll die next.

Hurrying past the wagons, I slip through a knot of men who talk in fierce undertones while they watch the forest around them. Adam walks a little ahead of them, his golden skin free of bruises for the moment, and his beautiful eyes full of the kind of darkness that lurks somewhere inside of me as well.

“Where’s Willow?” he asks me quietly as I try to walk past him. “She’s been gone for two days now.”

I push a low-hanging branch out of my way and look at him. “She and Quinn had something to do.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Stares at me like he just broke his only compass and has no idea how to find his bearings.

I sigh. Angry Adam I can handle. Adam pining after Willow leaves me fumbling for words. “She’ll be back.”

“When?”

“Soon.” I start to move past him, and he touches my arm.

“Did she leave for good? Was it Frankie?” His voice rises. “Did she get tired of the people who treat her like an outsider but are more than willing to eat the food she hunts and let her stand guard over them while they sleep?”

I stare at him.

He leans toward me. “The girls treat her like competition. The men treat her like she’s a baby playing at war. And the older women avoid her.” His mouth is a tight line.

“I promise she plans to come back.” My voice is quiet, and I scrub my hand against my heart as guilt prickles against my skin. I could ask myself why I’ve ignored the fact that Willow is being mistreated, but I already know the answer. I’ve been so caught up in my own pain, in looking strong during the day so that no one knows how fragile I feel at night, that I haven’t really looked at anyone else.

And if I did look at someone else, it wouldn’t be Willow. The girl who always seems so self-assured. The girl who threatened to hurt me if her brother lost his life because of me.

The girl who has fought beside me and for me since the day I met her.

“They think she’s unnatural because she doesn’t wear dresses and always carries her bow and arrows. Because she can hunt and fight,” Adam says.

“I can hunt and fight too.”

“But you’re from Baalboden.”

“Why does that matter? I hardly act like it.”

“Your dad was well-respected. And some of them knew your mother.” His voice gentles unexpectedly. “They think you bucked Baalboden traditions because you lost her at such a young age, and your father didn’t know any better when he raised you.”

I glare at him even though I know he isn’t the real target. “My father raised me exactly how I needed to be raised. I’m not some lost soul acting out because I don’t have a mother. I’m a fighter, both by nature and by training, and they should be thanking both Willow and me for being willing to stand between them and everyone who wants us dead.”

His smile slowly transforms his face, and I find myself smiling back.

“I think I like you,” he says.

My smile falters.

“No! Not like that.” He holds up his hands as if to ward off the ridiculous assumption that he would ever be attracted to me.

My eyes narrow.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with . . . I mean, you and Logan seem to have a pretty good thing going, and I’m not . . .” He meets my eyes, but I can’t read his expression. “I just meant that I didn’t like you before because you can be sort of cold. I thought you didn’t care about us. But now I think maybe you’re just really good at hiding it.”

I don’t know what to do with Adam-being-friendly. I’m far more used to Adam-being-angry. I hope he means what he says; I can’t help but compare the earnest look on his face to the fierce anger that burned there just a few days ago. Maybe he’s sincere. Maybe he’s trying to come to terms with everything he’s lost. Or maybe I’m not the only one who’s really good at hiding things.

“I’ll watch out for Willow when she returns,” I say. My voice sounds odd. Shaky. I clear my throat. “And maybe part of the problem is that I’m not standing guard with her at night. I’m about to fix that.”

Before he can say another word, I move away, trying desperately to shove the warmth of his sudden friendship away from me before it can linger and take root. Logan walks beside Ian, about twenty paces in front of the pack. The faint path we’re taking follows the riverbed and then veers east into the forest. I catch up to Logan and Ian just as the road wraps around a corner and the river slips out of sight.

Logan smiles and holds out his hand for mine. Beneath his smile, I see the exhaustion that clouds his eyes and drains the color from his face. I take his hand and hold on tight.

“I’m taking your guard duty shift tonight.”

His smile disappears. “No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am.” I give him the look that used to make Oliver send me to my room for hours. “You’re so tired you can barely function. If you keep pushing yourself this hard, you’ll get sick. Or you’ll make a mistake, and you know you’re impossible to live with when you realize you’ve made a mistake.”

Ian snorts out a little laugh, and I level him with my gaze. “You’re impossible to live with, period, so don’t start.”

He shakes his head and smirks.

“Rachel, you need your sleep.”

“And you don’t? How much sleep have you had in the past few days?”