Kor continues. “We need to leave before anyone notices we’ve been released. Are you coming with us?” His hands squeeze mine tightly, possessively. But I’m not his sidekick anymore.

I shake my head.

“Please come.” His voice cracks. “I won’t let anything like this happen again. I trust you; I’ll make sure the Inner Chamber and the Oculus trust you.”

He’s looking at me with the same sad smile that’s broken a million hearts. He fully believes his own performance, but I don’t.

However, if he’s ready to trust me, I can use that trust to get what I need.

“No. I think I can be more useful to you here for now.” It’s actually he who will be useful to me. Good thing I’ve had a lot of practice lying.

Movement by the station draws my eye. Someone’s there, but night cloaks them in darkness. A shrieking wind ghosts the shore, and I shudder against the chill.

The shadowy figure steps forward. “Ada?” an all-too-familiar voice asks. I pull my hands from Kor’s, my heart in my stomach.

A torchlight flicks on, revealing Michael’s horror-stricken face. “What are you doing here?” he asks, voice hollow.

He knows what I’m doing. He heard what Kor said. I know he heard; I can tell from the look in his eyes. Disbelief, fear, anger.

Heartbreak.

“Ah,” Kor continues. “You two seem well acquainted.”

“What’s going on?” Michael whispers, shadows playing over his face. The face I was just holding between my hands.

“I can explain—” I choke on a sob.

Why did this have to happen now? Right when I’ve finally decided where I want to be. Because of him. Because of the beautiful world he’s shown me.

He’ll never forgive me.

Kor is still speaking, but nothing could make me care about what he’s saying. I stare into Michael’s torch-lit eyes, and seeing all that betrayal aimed at me, I feel actual, physical pain in my chest.

“Aren’t we lucky for recruiting him?” Kor is beaming at Michael.

Wait.

What?

“Prometheus arranged our introduction.”

His words don’t sink in. It’s like he’s speaking another language. Like my brain isn’t receiving enough oxygen to think, to be able to put the pieces together.

How could Michael be a spy? He’s the most honest person I know.

He’s also the person most likely to want to help provincial people.

Kor is looking back and forth between us with confusion. Then realization dawns. “Oh, I see. I was under the impression you liked the blond one?”

Michael still hasn’t said anything. He hasn’t tried to deny it. Why isn’t he denying it? My throat is tight, and I feel lightheaded. I need him to deny it.