“He said …” Grief surges through my chest, burning a path to my throat.

“Tell me.”

“He’s going to kill you.” Suddenly the words are there, tumbling over themselves in a rush to be heard. “He said I’m loyal to a fault, and I’ll do anything to avoid having him kill someone else I love.”

The wagon bed. The cloth-covered lump. Crimson everywhere.

I can’t breathe as the blood-soaked image of Oliver burns itself into my brain and stays. Pushing away from Logan, I rush to the back door, wrench it open, race across the porch and fall onto the grass, retching.

He’s behind me in seconds, holding my hair back.

When my stomach is empty, he helps me sit on the bottom porch step, goes into the house, and returns with a glass of cold water and a sprig of mint.

I chew the mint and sip the water in grateful silence, but it’s a brief reprieve. He needs the rest of the story, and I have to find a way to give it to him.

He sits beside me, his shoulder touching mine, and says quietly, “Did he claim to have killed Jared?”

I shake my head, and set the glass down before my shaking hands drop it on their own. “He took me. In a wagon. There was a cloth-covered lump. And he said we were plotting behind his back.” My voice rises as I rush to get through it all. “I thought it was you. I thought he’d taken you, and I prayed it would be a stranger. Another guard like the one in the tower. But it wasn’t.”

My voice trembles. “He stabbed the person beneath the cloth, and there was blood everywhere, and I tried to reach him, but I couldn’t.” I reach a hand out to Logan, for absolution or for comfort, I don’t know. “I couldn’t save him. I thought he was safe, waiting for us in the Wasteland, and I didn’t save him. I’m so sorry!”

My voice breaks, and I drop my hand as terrible awareness comes into Logan’s eyes. “Oliver?” he asks in a voice that begs me to lie. To make the truth something he can still fix.

I nod.

He stares at me, eyes glassy with shock, then jumps to his feet and strides across the yard. When he reaches the sparring area, he takes a vicious swing and sends Bob flying along his wire. Minutes pass as Logan pounds his fists into Bob as if by obliterating the dummy, he can obliterate the truth.

Finally, his arms fall to his sides and he drops to his knees on the grass. I go to him and lay a hand on his shoulder. Turning into me, he wraps his arms around me and drags me against him. I hold him and vow I will make the Commander hurt for what he’s done to us. When Logan finally lifts his face to me, I can see he feels the same. His eyes are haunted, his expression hard.

“I’m sorry.” My voice is small against the weight of our loss, but it’s all I have to give.

“I can’t believe he’s gone.” His voice chokes on the last word, and he scrubs his hands over his face. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“They took him away in the wagon?”

“Guards came in and took him.” I can’t look at him. I can’t bear to see the shadows in his eyes. “They just … dragged him away.”

“I want to see him. I want to …”

Say good-bye. Say the things he now wishes he’d said the last time he saw Oliver. I don’t know if it would make it easier, but I know he needs it. I do too, but we aren’t going to get it. We aren’t going to get another word to say on the matter that doesn’t involve the sharp end of a sword.

“He should have a proper burial.”

“Yes. But he isn’t going to get it.” The words taste like ashes. We’ll never lay Oliver to rest. Never say the words he deserved to hear. Never bring flowers to a sacred patch of ground set aside for Oliver alone. “He isn’t going to get it. But he can have justice. If we work together.”

I make sure Logan meets my eyes and say, “You can’t Claim me today, or the Commander will turn it against you and separate us.”

Logan looks fierce. “We’re going to turn his plan against him instead. I’m going as your Protector. We’ll hide our travel bags before we get to the Square. Someone will try to Claim you, and I’ll agree to it, but it won’t matter. When everyone is dancing and celebrating, you and I will sneak away, grab our bags, and be gone before he even realizes he’s lost the game.”

Suddenly, his arms are around me again, and I’m against the hard wall of his chest. “Rachel, I’m sorry you had to see Oliver die.”

“No, I’m sorry. If I’d just stabbed the Commander like you said—”

“This wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t mine. It was the Commander’s. And one day, I’ll make him pay for it in full.”

“No, one day we’ll make him pay for it in full,” I say.

“Yes,” he says, holding my gaze. “We will. Starting today.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

LOGAN

Rachel doesn’t want breakfast, but agrees to eat something when I point out she can’t execute our plan on an empty stomach. I don’t want breakfast either. The knowledge that I’ve lost the only father I’ve ever known burns within me.

My heart aches, a constant pain that makes it hard to breathe. Losing Oliver is like losing the best part of me. The part that believed I could rise above. The part that said I was worth something even before I proved him right.

I don’t know how to move forward without him, but I have to. I have to put our plan in motion. Get Rachel away from here. Find the package. Find Jared before a Rowansmark or Baalboden tracker finds him first. And return to Baalboden with a foolproof plan for destroying the Commander and avenging us all.