“They’re both good.” Pax wouldn’t want Hope telling Drake about Pax’s dad, mainly because Pax didn’t like Drake. At all. Hope held very still so Drake wouldn’t let go of her hand. His was big and warm, and really nice. “Do you think it’s bad that I’m a prophet?” She’d never forget the look in Pax’s dad’s face when he called her names. He’d hated her. Really hated her.

“No. Why?” Drake asked.

“Some people don’t like it. They think I’m a freak,” she whispered. Was she? She could do a lot of things others couldn’t, and fate talked to her.

“You’re not a freak.” Drake stiffened. “Who said that to you?”

The anger in his voice made her feel all warm. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to know what you thought.” How many people out there hated her just because of a marking she’d been born with?

“I think you’re special, and that’s a good thing.” He didn’t look at her. “Hope? Our lives aren’t gonna be easy, and we’ve known that for a long time. We’re gonna have to make hard decisions that other people might not like.”

Yeah, like ending the war between their peoples. Like finally finding peace. Some people didn’t want peace. “But we’re still friends, right?”

“Always,” Drake said, tightening his hold on her hand.

Her mom and dad had met in dream worlds, and they’d ended up saving everybody. Now it was her and Drake’s turn to make things even better. Or it would be when they were grown up. “Promise me we’ll always be on the same side,” she whispered.

He sighed. “I’m not sure we’ll always be on the same side, but we’ll end up on the right path. I’ll make sure of it.”

A scraping sounded over by the cave, and they both turned to see a figure come out.

Hope jerked her hand away from Drake’s, her face burning. “Uncle Sam?” Her dad’s younger brother looked around as if he didn’t see them. He shook his head, his dark hair flying, his eyes blazing green. Then he disappeared. Her mouth dropped open.

“That was weird,” Drake said, nudging her in the arm. “Let’s wake up now.”

She sat upright in bed, her heart beating hard against her ribcage. What had her uncle Sam been doing there? In a freaking dream world? He wasn’t anywhere near Realm headquarters, but she’d have to contact him the next day. He always took her calls.

Sucking in air, she looked around her bedroom to see Libby on her side, facing away, sleeping soundly. But Pax wasn’t in his sleeping bag. Instead, he was sitting on her window seat, his arm around his legs, looking out at the snow.