And then I really looked at the waiting figure. It was smaller than me—that was how I’d known it was not Jared—and thin. Small, but also too tall and too wiry. Even in the dim light of the blue lamp, I could see that his skin was dyed to a deep brown by the sun, and that his silky black hair now fell unkempt past his chin.

My knees buckled.

My hand, grasping Jeb’s arm in panic, held on for support.

“Well, for Pete’s sake!” Jeb exclaimed, obviously irritated. “Can’t nobody keep a secret around this place for more’n twenty-four hours? Gol’ durn, this burns me up! Bunch of gossipmongers…” He trailed off into a grumble.

I didn’t even try to understand the words Jeb was saying; I was locked in the fiercest battle of my life—of every life I’d ever lived.

I could feel Melanie in each cell of my body. My nerve endings tingled in recognition of her familiar presence. My muscles twitched in anticipation of her direction. My lips trembled, trying to open. I leaned forward toward the boy in the hall, my body reaching because my arms would not.

Melanie had learned many things the few times I’d ceded or lost my command to her, and I truly had to struggle against her—so hard that fresh sweat beaded on my brow. But I was not dying in the desert now. Nor was I weak and dizzy and taken off guard by the appearance of someone I’d given up for lost; I’d known this moment might come. My body was resilient, quick to heal—I was strong again. The strength of my body gave strength to my control, to my determination.

I drove her from my limbs, chased her from every hold she’d found, thrust her back into the recesses of my mind, and chained her there.

Her surrender was sudden and total. Aaah, she sighed, and it was almost a moan of pain.

I felt strangely guilty as soon as I’d won.

I’d already known that she was more to me than a resistant host who made life unnecessarily difficult. We’d become companions, even confidantes during our past weeks together—ever since the Seeker had united us against a common enemy. In the desert, with Kyle’s knife over my head, I’d been glad that if I had to die I would not be the one to kill Melanie; even then, she was more than a body to me. But now it seemed like something beyond that. I regretted causing her pain.

It was necessary, though, and she didn’t seem to grasp that. Any word we said wrong, any poorly considered action would mean a quick execution. Her reactions were too wild and emotional. She would get us into trouble.