Charlie shifted on the chaise and lifted her face toward the sun, barely visible behind a scud of clouds. The apartment had been empty when they got back so there was no need to hide out on the roof, but given how often Jack had switched to scales lately, she figured he’d be more comfortable outside. Because it was all about Jack and not at all about how she’d started to feel trapped within the well-charmed walls. She needed to see what was coming.

They’d barely stayed inside long enough to fill bowls with sesame ginger chicken, kept warm in Allie’s big crockpot, and slide biscuits into their pockets.

At least it had stopped raining.

“Charlie?”

“If they don’t get back to us in the next twenty-one and a half months, I suggest we say fuck ’em.”

“Not helpful. Nor funny,” he added.

If the Courts couldn’t help—no, if the Courts actually admitted they couldn’t help, which wasn’t the same thing, Charlie realized—then there was no reason for Jack to slip into the past and spend four miserable years learning sorcery. They were one step closer to not being able to stop the world from ending, but, bottom line, the world ending should be misery enough. She didn’t need to look at Jack and see four unnecessary years of pain. “Ow.” Rubbing her arm where he’d poked her, she turned to see him sitting on the edge of the second chaise, feet on the deck beside the empty bowls, staring down at her, expression entirely unrepentant. “What?”

Jack shrugged. “You were wearing your I was forced to listen to Justin Bieber face. What are you thinking about?”

“The Courts.” How convenient, not a lie.

“And how if they can’t help, then there’s no reason for me to go learn from them.”

Not a question. So Charlie asked one, “How did you get that out of a I was forced to listen to Justin Bieber face?”

He didn’t return her smile. “If they can’t, or won’t stop the asteroid, it doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t be able to if I was trained. I’m unique, remember. Gale. Dragon Prince. Sorcerer. Wild Power. One of a kind. All bets are off.”

“I’d never bet against you.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

“But you don’t want me to go.” Before Charlie could say anything—and since she couldn’t deny it, she had no idea of what to say—he added, “Even though you go away all the time.”

Unfortunately, there wasn’t even a hint of sulky teenager in his voice she could respond to and use to avoid the actual issue. “I’ve never gone away for four years.”

“It won’t be four years to you.”