You can still find a way to get her out. You have to.

The rest of the day gradually passes. I shift locations hour by hour, careful to stay on the move. My body aches. Sunset slides into evening and then into dawn. When I fall into an unsettled half sleep, I imagine I’m a boy soldier again, curled next to other guards and shivering on my shift. I dream someone is shaking me awake, Danna shouting that I’m late for my rotation. His voice turns into the Chief Architect’s, telling me to get up, it’s time for the next phase of my Skyhunter transformation. I bolt awake again and again, trembling.

Then, as the first weak rays of morning sift through the forest’s canopy, I see a lone figure picking its way silently through the carpet of dotted light.

At first I think it’s a Karensan scout. My muscles tense as I prepare to kill the intruder before they can find me.

Only when the figure passes under an illuminated patch of forest floor and I catch the glint of red in his hair do I recognize Jeran.

I let out my breath in a rush. My eyes quickly scan the rest of the forest around us, checking if anyone is following him. But he’s alone. No one else had made it out with him.

I should be elated that Jeran escaped the trap set for us. But he looks like a shell of his former self. Bloodstains on his worn Striker coat have turned black. Judging from his walk, at least, he seems uninjured. All I can muster is a bone-weary relief.

I’m trying to figure out the best way to alert him to my presence without frightening him when his steps stiffen a dozen yards from me and he looks around. His stance shifts seamlessly into an attack position. He searches his surroundings before his eyes turn up toward the trees, locking on me.

In spite of everything, I can’t help smiling. His instincts have not abandoned him.

I twist around on the branch and step against the trunk, then slide to the forest floor with a soft hush, my wings softening my descent. Even this slight use of them for a glide makes me wince. I’d pushed them hard during my escape, so even Adena’s temporary fix can’t stop the fire of agony that shoots up and down my spine.

I crouch on the forest floor for a moment, catching my breath, before painstakingly folding my wings and approaching Jeran.

He looks exhausted, the early light casting long shadows across his face. The knot of his hair hangs messy and loose, damp strands clinging to his forehead. For a moment, neither of us says anything. Then we exchange a silent, grim nod in unison, as if we already know what the other wants to say.

“You didn’t head back to camp,” he whispers, when he finally finds his voice.

I shake my head.

He studies my expression and sees my guilt. It breaks something within him. Whatever restraint had held him together as he made his way here snaps, and his face crumples. He sinks to the forest floor on his knees. His sapphire coat pools around him in a circle.