“Don’t say that!” Five exclaimed, recoiling in horror. “Although”—he paused and glanced at Twelve—“I now understand why he liked you so much.” He whistled. “An elemental witch.”

“I didn’t know,” Twelve said, color rising in her cheeks. “I mean, the fire thing happened before, but never as powerful as that. I still don’t understand what it means.” She looked at Dog. “The Croke said the last elementals lived during the Dark War. Do you know anything about them?”

Dog’s happy expression faded and his tail tucked itself between his legs. Twelve’s heart sank.

“I know a little,” he said. He spoke slowly, as though choosing his words carefully. “Their magic was . . . unruly. And they were not born with it. A witch of Icegaard is born with her magic. Elementals rise.”

“Rise?” Five asked, wrinkling his nose.

“They are made by their circumstances,” Dog explained. “Circumstances that are always unpleasant.” He nodded slowly and turned to Twelve. “Elementals appear in times of trouble. Times of great darkness. For centuries, there have been none. Now there is you.”

A coldness swept over Twelve, and Widge pressed closer to her.

“Uh, could we just be happy for a second?” Five said, breaking the silence. “I mean, Victory couldn’t kill us; goblins couldn’t kill us; we’re together; we found Seven.” He ticked the items off on his fingers. “By the frost, there’s loads to be pleased about there!”

A shout caught their attention. A group of Hunters were trying to position the next section of palisade wall. Dog sprang up to help them.

Twelve moved around the fire toward Five, knowing she had to clear something up between them. Their fight still whispered in her ear like a wraith. His eyes were fixed on Six, whose arm was slung around Seven’s shoulders, both of them laughing at something, their smiles identical.

Twelve took a deep breath, and sat down beside Five.

This was the last thing. The final piece to mend.

Chapter

Fifty-Four

“There’s nothing between Six and me, you know,” Twelve said quietly, looking anywhere except at Five.

Beside her, Five snorted. “Same here!”

The resignation and hurt in his voice was enough to make her look properly at him.

To both their surprise, Widge leaped lightly onto his shoulder. Twelve was sure she saw him give Five’s cheek a quick lick. A few days ago, she would have been furiously jealous of that. Now the delight and surprise on Five’s face made her laugh.

“He wants you to stroke him,” she grinned. “Just be warned, once you start, he probably won’t let you stop.”

“I’m all right with that,” Five beamed. For a minute or so, he ran his fingers through Widge’s fur, his expression thoughtful. Twelve waited for him to speak.

“Six and I, we’re still friends,” Five said eventually. “But he doesn’t feel that way about me.”