The monkeys and Flea weren’t surprised by the change in plans. A sad acceptance emanated from their hunched postures. Flea bent his head so his long bangs covered his eyes.

“Don’t give up,” I said. “I’m not. Kerrick’s the most stubborn person we know. He’ll show up one way or another. But for now, we need to concentrate on Flea.”

Flea glanced up. “Me?”

“Yes.” I sat next to him. “We need to determine the extent of your new ability and figure out if you’re a true death magician. We know you can break a stasis, but can you put someone in one?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Then we’ll need a volunteer.”

The three of us looked at Quain.

Quain put his hands up. “Hold on. I’ve already gone through it.”

“Which makes you the expert,” Loren said. “You can tell us if Flea did it right or not.”

“It’s the ‘or not’ that I’m worried about,” Quain said.

“Sepp said he can’t take a life like Tohon could, but he can freeze life in a fake death,” I explained.

“But how do I do that? When Quain was frozen, I had this weird compulsion to touch him. And when I did—” he grimaced at the memory “—it felt like my stomach turned inside out. It was the same when you were in trouble. I got this...sour feeling. But right now, I’ve got nothing.”

“Maybe you need to concentrate on it,” I suggested. “Think about pausing his life.”

“Uh, I don’t like the sound of that.” Quain scooted away from Flea.

“It doesn’t hurt, you big baby,” Loren said.

“Then why don’t you volunteer?”

“That’s enough,” I said to the monkeys. “This is important. If he’s able to do it, it’ll save lives.”

“I’ll try.” Flea closed his eyes. He twisted his shirt in his hands. After a minute, he opened them. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“Try again, but this time, put your hand on Quain’s arm,” I said. “Quain, push your sleeve up.”

Frowning, Quain exposed a muscular forearm. His loose shirt hid his powerful build, but the muscles on his neck bulged with tension. Flea rested his fingers on Quain’s arm, closed his eyes again and pressed his lips together.

We waited.

Flea gasped and jerked his hand away. He stared at Quain in horror.

Quain looked confused. “Did he pause me?”

“No,” Loren said.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Flea.

“I—I think...I’m going to be sick.” Flea dashed out of the cave.

I chased after him. He bent over a bush, vomiting. When he finished, he sank to the ground. Kneeling next to him, I put my hand on his sweaty forehead. My magic didn’t stir. At least he wasn’t truly sick.

The monkeys hovered by the cave’s entrance. When Flea spotted Quain, he squeaked in alarm. I gestured to them, waving them back inside. Sitting back on my heels, I dropped my hand.

“What happened, Flea? Talk to me, please.”

He drew in a deep breath, then met my gaze. I almost glanced away. His light green eyes shone with pain and grief. His haunted expression looked straight through me for a moment. “You can’t tell Quain. Promise me.”