There was a low stone wall at the southernmost end of the village just past the camp that seemed meant for sitting on. And there was a spectacular view of three tall, craggy hills in the moonlight, with the moon glinting off all the little watercourses and tiny ponds that lay beneath them. Abi sat and stared; she’d never seen anything like this in all her life. Moonlight over the Palace gardens wasn’t half as awe-inspiring.

She heard footsteps approaching, and identified them as Jicks without even a second thought. A moment later, Jicks lifted her legs over the wall and sat down close beside her.

“And this’s why I’ll never live in a city,” Jicks said, after a very long period of silence. Then, without any warning, she put her arm around Abi and kissed her.

Abi was so startled she didn’t react at all. Even her thoughts were a sort of blank, a blank that only resolved itself when Jicks pulled away again. And . . . she didn’t know what to say. Without thinking, she lifted her hand to her lips, blinking a little. She just kissed me. Oh, dear.

The awkward silence between them grew. Abi didn’t know how to break it, and Jicks was clearly waiting for some sort of reaction.

Finally Jicks sighed. “No spark?” she asked. “Nothing?”

Abi felt her face flushing, but more out of chagrin than anything else. “I’m sorry. . .” she said. “I . . .” Oh, hell. But I never—

“I couldn’t help but see the lads weren’t doing anything for you, even though they were spreading their tails and all but dancing for you, so I thought I—” Jicks sighed again. “I thought I might have a chance. I guess I’m just too—”

“No, it’s not you,” Abi managed to interrupt her. “Actually, it’s not anyone. Not even my best friend Kat. Or Rudi or Emmit or Brice or—well, it’s not anyone. It’s never been anyone.” The last was said with a kind of wonder, because—

—well, because she’d never actually thought about this before. But it was true. It wasn’t anyone. All the giggling and carrying on and whispers and what people fondly thought were secret romances that had gone on around her, and there’d never been a spark of anything between her and anyone else. Oh, she loved Kat and Trey and Niko to bits. And she loved Brice, Rudi, and Nat. But . . . she loved them the same way she loved her brothers. She’d never thought about that, she’d just accepted it. And if anyone had ever been flirting with her (like Bret and Bart?) she’d been oblivious. It just wasn’t that important to her. Actually . . . it wasn’t important at all.

“Ah, well, then, at least it’s not me.” More silence, broken only by the far off whoop of an owl. “Friends, then?”