If the twins were not a Seeker and a Keeper? Then the starving beasts would do what all starving beasts did when left alone with defenseless prey. It was said that the chance of twins being blessed was one in a hundred. Those were the odds her mother had faced. That was why she had tried to run with her daughters. When she’d been caught, she’d taken her own life not in despair, but to ensure the girls’ father would not be implicated. Take all the blame on herself. Let their father live, for his sake and their daughters’. There was nothing selfish in that.

Ashyn realized then that she’d been quiet too long after Ronan’s confession. He was fussing again, obviously uncomfortable now, as if her silence judged him.

“I’m sorry about your father,” she said.

He glanced over sharply, as if that was not the answer he expected.

“I’m sorry about your father and your uncle. I can’t imagine how difficult that was.”

He met her gaze. “I think you can, Ashyn.”

She nodded and looked away.

Ronan reached over and squeezed her hand. “We’ll get you out of here. You and Tova and Wenda. And we’ll find Moria.” He paused. “I’m going to keep walking.”

“What?” She stared at him. “Tonight?”

He nodded. “We can’t be far now. I’ll get water and come back.”

“How will you see your way?” She waved up at the cloudy sky.

A tired smile. “I’m a thief, remember? I see very well in the dark. The road is clearly marked. Waiting until morning will only mean we’ve gone that much longer without water. With luck, I’ll be heading back before you wake.”

“I shouldn’t have used up the water.”

“You were worried about my wounds.” He managed a strained smile. “I can’t fault you for that.” He brushed off his breeches and leaned over to give Tova a pat. “I should probably leave now. I was planning to as soon as we’d spoken.” He waved at what she’d thought was a rock. It was his pack. He stood. “I’ll find us water, and I’ll see you soon.”

He hefted his pack, offered her one last smile, and set out across the lava plains.

Ashyn woke to Tova growling. When she lifted her head, she could see only his pale shape, so close she could smell his fur. The sky was dark gray.

As Wenda stirred beside her, Ashyn looked up at Tova. His big head moved, as if tracking something. She tried to listen, but all she could pick up was Tova’s growling, growing louder until she could feel the vibration of it.

“What’s wrong?” Wenda asked.

Ashyn shushed her, then softened it with a reassuring pat.

Tova was turning his whole body now, his nails scratching the rock as he moved, his gaze fixed in the distance.