He ran right through the big plaza, ignoring the surprised and even suspicious faces. There was too much that was unfamiliar and uncomfortable going on in the caves right now. The humans here—Violetta, Geoffrey, Andy, Paige, Aaron, Brandt, and more I couldn’t see well as we jolted past—were skittish. It disturbed them to see Ian running headlong through them, face twisted with rage, with me in his arms.

And then they were behind us. He didn’t pause until we reached the doors leaning against his and Kyle’s room. He kicked the red one out of the way—it hit the stone floor with an echoing boom—and dropped me onto the mattress on the floor.

Ian stood above me, his chest heaving with exertion and fury. For a second he turned away and put the door back in place with one swift wrench. And then he was glowering again.

I took a deep breath and rolled up onto my knees, holding my hands out, palms up, wishing that some magic would appear in them. Something I could give him, something I could say. But my hands were empty.

“You. Are. Not. Leaving. Me.” His eyes blazed—burning brighter than I had ever seen them, blue flames.

“Ian,” I whispered. “You have to see that… that I can’t stay. You must see that.”

“No!” he shouted at me.

I cringed back, and, abruptly, Ian crumpled forward, falling to his knees, falling into me. He buried his head in my stomach, and his arms locked around my waist. He was shaking, shaking hard, and loud, desperate sobs were breaking out of his chest.

“No, Ian, no,” I begged. This was so much worse than his anger. “Don’t, please. Please, don’t.”

“Wanda,” he moaned.

“Ian, please. Don’t feel this way. Don’t. I’m so sorry. Please.”

I was crying, too, shaking, too, though that might have been him shaking me.

“You can’t leave.”

“I have to, I have to,” I sobbed.

And then we cried wordlessly for a long time.

His tears dried before mine. Eventually, he straightened up and pulled me into his arms again. He waited until I was able to speak.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I was mean.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I should have told you, when you didn’t guess. I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t want to tell you—to hurt you—to hurt me. It was selfish.”

“We need to talk about this, Wanda. It’s not a done deal. It can’t be.”

“It is.”

He shook his head, clenching his teeth. “How long? How long have you been planning this?”

“Since the Seeker,” I whispered.