This was not the kind of torture I’d expected: a personal crisis of conscience, confused and complicated by love for my human family. Very painful, nevertheless.

I could not claim to be an expatriate if I did this. No, I would be purely a traitor.

Not for her, Wanda! Not for her! Mel howled.

Should I wait? Wait until they catch another soul? An innocent soul whom I have no reason to hate? I’ll have to make the decision sometime.

Not now! Wait! Think about this!

My stomach rolled again, and I had to hunch my body forward and take a deep breath. I just managed not to gag.

“Wanda?” Jeb called in concern.

I could do it, Mel. I could justify letting her die if she was one of those innocent souls. I could let them kill her then. I could trust myself to make an objective decision.

But she’s horrible, Wanda! We hate her!

Exactly. And I can’t trust myself. Look at how I almost didn’t see the answer…

“Wanda, you all right?”

The Seeker glared past me, toward Jeb’s voice.

“Fine, Jeb,” I gasped. My voice was breathy, strained. I was surprised at how bad it sounded.

The Seeker’s dark eyes flickered between us, unsure. Then she recoiled from me, cringing into the wall. I recognized the pose—remembered exactly how it felt to hold it.

A gentle hand came down on my shoulder and spun me around.

“What’s going on with you, hon?” Jeb asked.

“I need a minute,” I told him breathlessly. I looked straight into his faded-denim eyes and told him something that was most definitely not a lie. “I have one more question. But I really need a minute to myself. Can you… wait for me?”

“Sure, we can wait a little while more. Take a breather.”

I nodded and walked as quickly as I could from the prison. My legs were stiff with terror at first, but I found my stride as I moved. By the time I passed Aaron and Brandt, I was almost running.

“What happened?” I heard Aaron whisper to Brandt, his voice bewildered.

I wasn’t sure where to hide while I thought. My feet, like a shuttle on automatic pilot, took me through the corridors toward my sleeping room. I could only hope that it would be empty.

It was dark, barely any light from the stars trickling down through the cracked ceiling. I didn’t see Lily till I tripped over her in the darkness.

I almost didn’t recognize her tear-swollen face. She was curled into a tight, tiny ball on the floor in the middle of the passageway. Her eyes were wide, not quite comprehending who I was.

“Why?” she asked me.

I stared at her wordlessly.

“I said that life and love go on. But why do they? They shouldn’t. Not anymore. What’s the point?”