"I don't know," I say. Whenever they ask about my meetings with Voss, I feel a sudden and almost uncontrollable need to change the subject. My skin prickles with anxiety. The entire focus of my relationship with Voss revolves around being unbound—around the secret I’m still keeping from my closest friends. "I just know Raith said he'll look out for us. He's not interested in winning to earn a spot as a legacy, so he's going to just keep an eye out for us."

"Wait, what?" Ambrose leans forward, eyebrows high. "Who wouldn't want to be a legacy? You know there's an entire section of the library they only give legacies access to?"

"He had… strong words about legacies. Just trust me. He’s not interested in winning. So with Raith and his group protecting us and Typhon, I don't really see why we need a fifth."

"And you think nobody in Raith's group will actually want to be legacies?" Beck asks. "They'll just agree to follow him for babysitter duty?"

"You've seen them. They're all loyal to him. Except Serena."

"What if she's had enough time to change some of their minds since Confluence Day?" Ambrose asks. "She's a terrible person, but I have to admit I can imagine her... charming her way into a few hearts."

Beck nods. "Serena is fucking hot. He's right. I could imagine a hypothetical situation where getting into her pants could convince me to do some stupid things."

"Beck..." Mireen warns.

"Hypothetical. I said hypothetical."

I chew my nail. I honestly hadn't thought about Serena winning over allies. A sudden itch to talk to Raith and try to warn him rises up in me. My pulse doubles at the thought of something happening to him.

"What about Bastian?" Ambrose asks. "Is he going to look out for us during the Crucible, too? He's got nothing to win, so that would at least make more sense since I know he wants to get in your pants."

"I've tried to tell you guys a thousand times," I sigh.

"Just like you've told us there's nothing between you and Raith?" Mireen asks, wiggling her eyebrows. "And yet you guys are constantly sneaking off together?"

"It's not constantly. I've told you he just helps me train."

"Convenient," Beck says, leaning against the wall and folding his muscular arms over his chest. "They disappear to train. An activity that leaves people looking a lot like they just vigorously fucked."

"Nessa has been getting good with that rapier really fast," Ambrose notes. "If he's not actually training her, how do you explain that?"

"Easy,” Beck says. “Raith lets her practice with his ‘rapier’ every night. Two hands. One hand. No hands.”

Mireen covers her mouth so I don't see her smile, but I whack her on the arm anyway.

"You're all ridiculous. Except Ambrose. Thank you, Ambrose."