party isn’t into long-lasting monogamy.”
“You barely know me. Maybe you’d hate dating me.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t hate it.” Was I still pink or had my complexion veered right to purple? “But dating isn’t even a possibility, because dating means strings, and you don’t want strings, Remo, so why are we even fighting about this?”
His eyes lowered to my lips.
I stepped to the side before he could kiss me. I suspected that would be a bad idea considering how much it had scrambled my brain back in the mud field, and I wanted . . . needed . . . to keep a level head. “Don’t.”
“Why does it have to be all or nothing? Why can’t it just be something?”
“Because I want what my parents have. What my aunt and uncle have.”
“What if what they all have is only due to their brands? Both Kajika and your mother were branded by their partners.”
My ribs contracted. Giya had brought up the same point during one of our many discussions about boys and hearts. I’d hated her insinuation, because it meant magic was mixed into their love, and I didn’t want magic to have anything to do with that feeling.
“My grandparents aren’t branded, and they’re crazy in love. And my mother was branded by Cruz Vega first, and she never loved him. Besides, those brands are used by faeries to track humans. Unlike captis, they’re not used for seduction.”
“But what if—”
“Then I’ll find myself a human consort once I’m out of here and brand him!” Infuriated, I spun on my heels and bustled out of the train and onto a platform that was carved right into a giant gray boulder.
Huffing a little, I scanned our newest cell—spectacular rock formations, a dark cyan forest denser and more tropical than the one in Neverra, and a glittering waterfall.
My lips popped apart at the sight. “This isn’t too bad.”
Remo grumbled, “We can’t even see the ground, Trifecta.”
Even though I now knew the nickname wasn’t pejorative, I still didn’t love it. “It’s undoubtedly full of creepy creatures, but there’s a waterfall. I love waterfalls.” Sure the sky was pasty white, and it was eerily silent, but I was still hopeful this world would be kindlier than all the others.
But then my hope vanished when a tinny voice erupted from the train: “Countdown to self-destruction will begin in ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .”
Self-destruction? What was about to self-destroy? This cell? The entire prison?
“Six . . . five . . .”
“The train’s going to blow!” Remo said.
I blinked up at him.
“Jump!” He grabbed my hand and dropped into a crouch, and then we sprang off the boulder.
The ground came at me hard. So hard my teeth knocked together, and my bones juddered, but the metallic sound of “three” had me scrambling back upright.
As a rumbling began, Remo tugged on my hand. “Run!”
My legs windmilled so fast they were probably blurring. It must not have been fast enough to Remo’s taste, though, because he hauled me forward.
The rumbling turned into a bang that sent us both sailing onto our stomachs. Hot, white sand cushioned our fall as a spray of rock and tongues of fire lapped at our backs. I clapped my hands over my ears and burrowed my face into the ground, trying to sink right through it. Unfortunately, I didn’t sink, and the chunks of debris lashed my back.
As pain crosshatched my skin, I thought up new ways to torture Gregor Farrow, but then dismissed all of my ideas. I’d have him locked in here, then order the destruction of the portal. A heavy weight settled over my back, and I thought the entire train car must’ve come loose, but the weight had a heartbeat. Praying it wasn’t a wild animal about to tear through my flesh, I twisted my face to see what or who had landed on me.
I caught a brassy flash of hair and a whiff of masculine sweat—Remo.
Another detonation. His body tensed over mine as fiery pellets hissed through the air. Even though I was glad for his protection, I worried for his safety. I tried to free my hands and access my dust but could barely squirm. I balled my fist, touching the tips of my fingers to my tattoo, but couldn’t get my wita to adhere. As though I were swimming through drying cement, I spread my arms wide and raised them over my head. When my palms connected, I coaxed my dust out, then parted