I nodded. “When we attacked Catherine’s camp we only saw her and her boyfriend, but there were tents for three people. She was supposed to have taken her brother with her when she ran . . . Will would be about the right age.”

“And now he wants revenge for what happened to his sister,” Variam said.

“You didn’t hurt her, though,” Luna said.

“No, I just showed the people who did hurt her where to find her. Somehow I don’t think that argument’s going to impress him very much.”

Silence fell again, and it stretched until it became uncomfortable. Suddenly I couldn’t bear to sit there any longer; I didn’t want to look at their faces for fear of what I’d find there. “I need a rest,” I said, rising to my feet. I felt Anne look up at me but raised a hand, not meeting her eyes. “I’m just tired. I’ll talk to you later.” I walked back towards the cave in which I’d woken up. As I left the cavern I heard the murmurs start up behind me.

* * *

Back in the smaller room, I lay on my back on the bed and let my breath out in a sigh. I was more tired than I should have been and I knew that even with Anne’s healing, I hadn’t yet recovered from last night’s injuries.

Well, I’ve told them. Now that I’d done it I felt drained. I’d known I couldn’t keep it hidden forever, but I’d always put it off. I stared up at the rock ceiling and wondered how they’d treat me now. In the years since I’d known Luna and Sonder and Anne and Variam, I’d played the role of a . . . what? Protector? Teacher? Friend? Something I wasn’t, anyway. They hadn’t known about my past, and so when I’d been with them I’d been able to escape it.

Was that why I’d worked so hard to help the four of them? When I’d joined Richard I’d been too self-centred to ever really care about helping anyone. When had that changed? Over the last year and a half I’d put myself in danger to help Luna and Sonder and then Variam and Anne, not just once but over and over again, and as I thought about it I realised that I didn’t regret it at all. I’d do it again without a second thought.

Maybe while I was with the four of them, I’d been able to pretend to be a different person. And at some point I’d noticed that I liked being that person a lot more than I liked who I used to be.

But the person I’d been pretending to be wouldn’t have gotten two innocent kids killed . . .