As we reached the media loft, I looked for Jenn. The space was empty and most of the equipment gone.

Daniel stayed just ahead, shouldering backward through the movers. “Besides, Rousseau agreed that, after everything, you deserve a break. By my calculation, you haven’t slept in a day and a half.”

“How would you know?”

“I keep track.” He offered a sympathetic grin, so at odds with the guy I’d seen toss a bleeding young Adder in to drown. “Like, when was the last time you ate?”

Between Adders and Rubio, I’d pretty much lost my appetite. “Your point is?”

“No disrespect, but one thing your buddy Rubio wasn’t likely to teach was how to take care of yourself.”

That rankled, even though it was true. “I’m fine.”

He stopped short, so I nearly smacked into him. “No. You’re not. And you have every reason not to be.” He gripped my elbow and muscled me out of the line of traffic with the same quiet economy I’d noticed at other crisis points, at the Souk with the thug posse or in the Adders’ den. “But right now, I need you to put aside Adders and Hannah and Rubio, and spare me a thought or two for a change!”

His tone made me hold still and stare, like I worried he might hit me.

“Sorry!” He tossed his head in dismay and let me go. “It’s just . . . Lizzy, sweetheart, we’re on a deadline here. You can’t hold me at arm’s length forever. At some point, it has to be yes or no.”

“Yes or no what?”

“Yes or no . . . me.”

We’d washed up against the balcony railing, overlooking Main—filled with my denmates, busy and intent with purpose. Rousseau’s rich baritone rose occasionally over the clatter and clang, doing what he was best at: organizing, inspiring the masses. I recalled Rubio’s belief that any life can be divided by its ‘defining moments,’ the sort after which everything will be different. My returning memory helped me chart a few of my own. My father turning his back on the city to raise his sail at the outward channel marker. My mother abandoning the claustrophobic safety of the high-rise for the flexible uncertainty of boat life that would kill her anyway. Rousseau hauling me out of the flood debris. This was another.

Daniel watched me, waiting at the top of his voice.

I was glad I’d already wept myself dry. “Where is this place you’re going?”

“Far from here.”

Hannah’s words, exactly. “Have you been there?”

“No.”

“But what’s it like?”

“Defensible high ground. Potable water. For details, ask Hannah. Does it matter?”

“Well, it should. Why don’t you care? Will you be safe there?”

“Maybe safer than here. Settlers have made a life on the frontier before.”