“That’s the starlight reflecting,” I reply.

“Not all of it.”

I frown. “You seem very sure.”

“I counted all the stars while I waited,” he says. “There’s an extra one in your eyes.”

Skies. Alive. Ox makes me feel so light, like one of the stars themselves. “Okay, fine, you win.” Gingerly, I lean back and lie down on the chilly stone. Ox does the same, finding my hand as he does.

A clear summer’s night and a handsome boy holding my hand. Any other time, I would feel giddy, or at least content with having him close. Instead, I feel I only want to look at the stars—to dive deeper into them, higher and higher.

Right then, I miss my father. He would have known what to say in this situation. Well, not this exact one, I think, feeling the warmth of my fingers interlaced with Ox’s. But he would have known how to help me when feeling split in two, while pressed by the weight of the secret the sentinels have asked us to keep.

“Are you afraid?” I ask.

“Warriors don’t ask each other about fear.” His tone tells me he isn’t exactly serious, but he isn’t totally wrong. If anyone else were around, I have no doubt that Ox would lie—but here, in our secluded place, it’s just us. Just Ox and me.

So he tells the truth “Yes.”

“I should be going,” I say. “I hate that I’m not.”

“I know.” He props himself up on his elbow. “It’s not fair.”

“I’m a day shy of being a warrior. A day.”

Ox goes quiet. With the glow from the glass rooftop and from the stars above, I can see my reflection in his eyes. “I can’t decide,” he says finally. “I don’t know if I should be angry you are not going or relieved that you will be safe.”

I sit up, too. “I don’t want to be safe, Ox. I want to be fighting.”

“I know, I know. And you should be.

“You have to find it.”

“I will.”

“The humans have guns,” I whisper.

“Sure, humans have guns,” he says. “But we have a city to fight for. And I have a lioness who is braver and stronger than I am who I must come back to.”

He leans in, and I meet him halfway. His hand curves around my head as his lips press urgently into mine. Nothing held back—nothing ever is with Ox.

When we pull apart, he tilts his head skyward. “Race you to the moon?”

“What?”

“Balmora’s no more than a quarter hour’s flight. Besides, we won’t be flying once we get there.” His expression softens. “One last flight. You and me.”

I stand in response, and he grins as I help him up. “Fine,” I say. “Only if you promise it isn’t the last.”