“I don’t know…” I adjusted my bag, trying to sort my anger and this strange, sad feeling of loss. My plan had been to get him to stay, but this … this was something else. Something so unexpectedly genuine it scared me. “Something not based on survival habits, for once.”

“Fine,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I’ll miss you. Is that what you want to hear?”

I threw up my hands, barely holding in a scream of frustration … frustration concealing something that hurt so much worse. “You truly are heartless. Do you even care whether I live or die?” My blood rushed through my veins, and I gripped my fists to try and take back control. “Am I nothing to you?”

He kissed his teeth and looked away, and that one small sound was enough to make my stomach twist on itself. “You care too much about what people think of you—”

“I care about what you think of me,” I snapped. “You. Because you’re my—” I choked on an unexpected sob. “You’re the closest thing I’ll ever have to a father.”

He didn’t respond, but didn’t move, either. I wished he wasn’t wearing that mask. I wished I could’ve seen that he felt something. Anything.

Instead I turned away toward the door so he couldn’t see my emotion get the better of me. He wasn’t going to say he cared for me. That he … loved me. Because maybe he didn’t. I mean, he’d never sent a note back to Saba. Maybe he didn’t know how to feel that sort of thing anymore.

And maybe … maybe my new survival habit needed to be that I didn’t care.

The creak and screech of wood against stone sent my nerves into panic mode, and for the briefest moment I reached for my knife. But my muscles relaxed when I saw Saba in the doorway. Her eyes were red, dried tear streaks on her cheeks, and she wore the same bloodstained clothes as last night. I tried to speak, but a painful lump blocked my way.

“What happened?” I asked, finally, as she stepped out onto the sand.

She touched my cheek, almost tenderly, as she walked past. I turned just in time to see Jember stiffen on the horse. And, because loyalty made people foolish, I felt protective of him. I ran ahead of Saba, holding up my hands to ward her off. “Saba, don’t touch his skin—”

If it had been anyone else, Jember would’ve pulled his knife. Would’ve thrown a punch. Or rode away before she could reach him. Something. Instead, Saba held the horse steady around the neck with one arm and grabbed Jember’s leg with the other.