“I don’t know,” I say, because I’m actually not sure anymore.

“Well, how would you feel if everyone laughed and then he went home and cried?” my dad says, and my eyes widen.

“Terrible. Really really terrible,” I say, flustered. “It was supposed to be a joke. I’m not trying to hurt—”

“I know you’re not,” my dad says, his voice gentler. “But when you have as many skills as you do, Nova, it’s important to use them wisely and with caution. Misuse can lead to consequences you weren’t intending, consequences you alone will be responsible for.”

I’m gripping my cup of cocoa for warmth when it suddenly occurs to me that I’ve overlooked the second part of Ash’s message.

I examine Ash, my tone serious. “You said the message was Harry’s dead and there will be retaliation. What does retaliation mean in a situation like this? Retaliation against whom?”

Ash nods, like he couldn’t agree more. “That’s the part I’ve been wrestling with. There are a lot of ways the Lions might retaliate for killing a close Family member.”

“Let’s just say that was Harry in the woods by my house. And let’s also say that they know or suspect that I killed him. Is the retaliation meant for me?” I look Ash square in the eye.

“That would be my guess,” he says, and my fear swells.

My thoughts drift to the Academy’s eye-for-an-eye punishment system. “How exactly do the Lions retaliate?”

Ash shakes his head. “Let’s just hope we don’t have to find out,” he says, and I hope with all my might right along with him.

Chapter Fifteen

THE SUN IS already up as I peel my face off the reclined car seat. I wipe my mouth, grateful there’s no drool, especially since Ash is already awake and driving. But judging by the backcountry road we’re on and the look of the farms out the window, I’d say we haven’t gone very far.

Ash’s hair and clothes are somehow pristinely neat, whereas I’m less so, based on a quick assessment in the side mirror, which revealed a wrinkle from the seam of the upholstery running across my cheek.

“Remind me never to go camping with you,” I say, adjusting my seat and removing the blanket we bought at a supermarket on our way out of Edinburgh last night. “You’re one of those people who mysteriously wakes up looking like they’re going to prom.”

Ash smiles at me, and in the morning light I can’t help but be impressed. “Will coffee help?” he asks.