Joe had no light and he didn’t want to get lost, so he didn’t go far. The cave widened and there was a bed of sand to his left. He knelt and patted his way round the curve in 43the rock. It was just big enough for him. A boy-shaped bed for the night. He let himself collapse on it. Finally the terri­ble day was over.

When Joe woke, moonlight was streaming in through the entrance to the cave. He groaned, stiff and cold, the burned skin on his neck and hands still flaring painfully. He made himself crawl back outside, then stood and stretched the cramp from his legs and shook himself awake again. It was almost as light as day, the full moon shining down, casting a pearly reflection on the inky-dark sea. This was the perfect chance, he realised numbly. He could go back home without being seen.

He felt like a ghost, slipping through the empty streets. He saw only a cat and, once, a shadow flickering at the corner of his eye, but when he turned there was nothing there. He avoided the main gate by climbing up the back wall, into the garden. He fell on his knees by the kitchen well. He thrust his hands under the pure cold water and kept them there till the burning finally stopped. Then Joe filled a bucket and drank the whole thing greedily, spilling it down himself, till his stomach complained. Afterwards, he stood and looked around.

He could hear the quiet murmur of the night watchman talking to someone at the main gate.

The house was quiet, the lights out. Everyone must be asleep.

He could go to his parents and beg forgiveness.

But then he remembered what he’d done. 44

And what he’d almost done.

No. He found himself unable to move.

Today, he’d meant to make them proud. Instead, he’d brought shame on them, and on his sister and brother.

After today, his family was better off without him.

He saw it now. He was the odd one out. His parents had Tarya, the island’s general. They had Isak, its Head Dragonguard. They had Milla, heir to the ancient blood­line of Arcosi, who’d planned the revolution that brought Duke Vigo to power. They didn’t need a disgrace like Joe, a spoiled, angry child. No. Until he had done something worthwhile, something to make up for today, he had to stay away.

He pushed open the kitchen door and sneaked into the storeroom. He grabbed a pastry and shoved it in his mouth, eating so fast he almost choked on it. He took a soft leather backpack and filled it with food: cheese, dried meat, raisins. He found an empty flask and filled it with water from the well. He took one of the storm lanterns and its spare oil.

What else did he need? The shipwreck kit. He risked the main door and slipped inside the house, soft moonlight showing him the way up to his room.