“There’s got to be a way out,” Kellan says, the flashlight smacking against an open palm over and over again.

He’s pretending like our lips weren’t perilously close earlier. I don’t know if I want to talk about the almost incident, either, so I play along. “Like I said, I can blast us out.”

His head cocks to the wall at the front of the cave I’d created; it’s rattled steadily for the last couple hours due to assaults by the ever-noisy Elders. I cock my own head in the opposite direction, back toward the small tunnel leading to an even smaller tube and our tiny water source.

“Not worth the risk,” he and Caleb insist in unison. I sigh and rest my chin in hands propped up by elbows on knees. My stomach lets loose an embarrassingly loud rumble. Fact is, I’m starving. And thirsty. It takes a—well, I don’t know how long. An hour? Maybe two? Before the cup I created for us fills even a quarter.

I tried to widen the hole the water’s dripping from, but somehow, it made the trickle even slower. I installed a faucet, too, but had to stop when Kellan found out I was using Magic. I endured a lengthy lecture about conserving my energy, but I’m itching to try again.

A few rocks tumble down from the ceiling between us. I stretch up a hand when Kellan isn’t looking and imagine the ceiling solidifying. Although I can’t physically see it do so, the cave’s walls smooth slightly until no more loose pieces will threaten to target us.

Why I can do this, change the texture and consistency of a cave’s walls, but not be able to create water or plant life is beyond me. Fate has a funny way of shaping Magical crafts. Maybe it’s a way for Fate to ensure one craft is never omnipotent. I’d need an Aqua to help with the water, or even an Elemental or Tide; all can manipulate water sources. I’d need a Nymph or an Agro to deal with the food, but even they can’t make something appear out of nothing.

I can build us a table but not anything to put on it. I’m utterly useless in here.

“Has Jonah escaped yet?”

Kellan looks away from the flashlight beam he’s been splaying across the cave. “No.”

I try to swallow the helplessness that rises up my throat, but it’s too big to fully get rid of. “Is he okay?”

Kellan clicks off the flashlight and joins me on the floor. “He’s fine.” A small smile escapes. “They have food and water with them. So that right there gives him a leg up on us.”

He’s tired. There are dark smudges under his eyes and his hair is in disarray. I can’t help but ask how he’s doing, too.

Kellan stares off into the distance. “I’m fine.”

It’s a lie. It has to be. Because I’m not fine, not by a long shot. I’m so hungry I’ve considered eating rocks and so thirsty I can barely make my own spit to wet my tongue. It’s getting harder and harder to focus, and the incessant shrieking outside doesn’t help matters.

At least I’m not freaking out. I’m not crying, not hyperventilating. At least I have that going for me.

“We’re going to be okay, C.”

“I know,” I tell Kellan. But it’s a lie.

Death is such a big thing. I know that sounds all duh, since it’s something we all know is going to happen to us, but at the same time, it’s never felt real. Until the Elders, I never thought much about death. Now, every time they’re around, I think about it way too much.

Thanks to Caleb’s updates, I know we’re at the end of our second day in the cave. We slept last night on a blanket that I managed to make before Kellan nearly ripped my head off for once more wasting “valuable energy on something insignificant.”

When he was asleep, I made another pair of blankets to cover us. It comes as no surprise he was unhappy about this.

“They just don’t give up, do they?” I ask after the cave is rocked particularly hard.

He’s leaning against the wall, a safe distance away. His laugh, warm and resigned all at once, curls around me.

“We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

His head jerks sharply away from the wall. “Why would you say that?”

I feel calm saying this, which is funny, since I’m talking about death. I shouldn’t be calm. I ought to be hysterical. But I’m not. It’s like I’m on autopilot. “We have no idea if the rest of our team is alive. No one knows we’re here except Jonah, and he’s trapped, too. And even if they did, they’d have to get past the Elders outside. There are more than two now, aren’t there? Can you feel them?”

“I don’t want you thinking like this.” He rubs his eyes. “Do you hear me?”

My lips twist, just a little. “Gonna make me stop?”

He looks away. “You need to stay positive.”

I humor him before asking if Jonah’s free yet.

A flash of uncertainty streaks across his face. “I don’t know.”

“Ask him!”

Both hands run through his hair. “I can’t.”

Come again? I stumble a bit closer. “What do you mean you can’t? Is he okay? IsJonahokay?”

He’s quick with his answer. “Last I heard, he was fine.”

“Then . . .?”

His fingers grip at his hair now. “It’s just . . . it’s hard to concentrate, you know? To connect with him. I think I can hear him better than he can hear me.”

This makes no sense. They’ve always been able to communicate in their heads. Even when they’re so pissed off they refuse to speak in person, they always continue talking to one another in their minds.

Caleb finally says something other than the time. Ask him if he’s been working his mojo on you.

Huh?

Ask him.

I cut off some ridiculous excuse Kellan is rambling off with Caleb’s question. Without blinking, he tells me yes.

Order him to stop, Caleb barks.

I don’t see how this—

NOW!

“Whatever you’re doing, stop now,” I tell Kellan. His eyes go flinty. “I don’t want you to work on me, okay?”

FORBID IT!

“I . . . I forbid it.” And then, a flood of emotions crash down upon me like a tidal wave: terror and hopelessness, fear and panic.

Oh my gods, oh my gods, OH MY GODS.

“What the hell, Kellan?” I shriek. “How long have you been doing this to me?”

He looks me straight in the eye. “Since the moment I left you in the dark to hunt for a way out.”

I can barely even focus. The emotions crash against each other in me, making me so nauseous all I want to do is lay down and sob.

Why didn’t I see this? Caleb frets. Here we were, so worried you’d deplete yourself when it should have been obvious he was taking the hit so you could stay calm. This is why he can’t talk to his brother. Do you understand? He’s been using up all of his Magic to keep you safe.

More importantly, how had I missed it?

I promptly burst into tears. The moment I feel even the slightest bit calmer, I shout, “STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!”

Anxiety rushes back, even as he attempts to assure me he’s okay enough to continue influencing me. So I cry even harder—how could I have even entertained the slightest notion of picking fights with him earlier? Why would I have done that? What kind of crazy, sick girl am I?

He’s way too good to me, to the point he put his welfare and his own state of mind far below the needs he saw in me, which is exactly what we fought about. Me never thinking about his wants and needs, and him bending over backwards to give me mine.

When I begin to hyperventilate, he grabs my hands. “Don’t cry. It’s okay, I swear—”

I yank them free. “We’re going to die in here! Jonah is trapped—who knows if he’s really okay or not? And we’re fighting, and I hate it, and I’m so sorry, and I’m hungry and . . . gods, are you hungry? Are you okay?” My arms whip around like a madwoman’s; I’ve reached banshee-level wailing. “How are you doing? I’m not asking enough. I’m so selfish! I haven’t been asking enough. I need you to be okay. Are you okay? I need us to be okay. All of us. Oh my gods, nothing’s okay, Kellan!”

As crazy as I am, the craziest thing of all is that Kellan doesn’t hesitate. One second I’m having a full-on, nuclear meltdown that has rocks around us exploding like firecrackers and the next his arms are around me.

My world stills.

Caleb doesn’t bother saying a single word. He knows it’s pointless. Instead, he buries himself in the furthest corner of my mind he can find.

I can’t help but think of when my life imploded last year after I found Jonah kissing Callie. Everything in me short-circuited, leaving one, small instinct left: go and find Kellan. And I had. I ran straight to him, even though my heart was destroyed and I was blacking out and doing all sorts of horribly embarrassing things to admit to doing in light of seeing a kiss between my Connection and his ex-girlfriend. And Kellan made it better.

Like he’s making it better now. Not with his mojo, not like the last couple days of full-on Emotional tweaking, but just by being him. By touching me.

By being my Connection.

Part of me is ashamed, because he obviously knows he has this effect on me. How couldn’t he? I was just wild-banshee woman and now I’m practically purring like a kitten. What does this say about me? Me, who chose his brother. Me, who is happy with his brother. Me, who dreams of marrying his brother.

Me, who is utterly content to be held in his arms again.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t have the slightest clue on how to even approach this. We could always go back to the whole pretending bit, but, if I’m honest with myself, I don’t know if I can.

And I definitely don’t know how I can endure another eight months of no talking, no touching, no . . . no anything, let alone another eight minutes.

“It’ll be okay,” he repeats. I know right then that he’s decided to play the role. He isn’t going to let me know he’s affected by my touch, too, even though I can feel his heart pounding like the surf he loves against the shore. No, he’s going to keep everything locked down tight, because he—unlike me—actually puts someone other than himself first.

But, he’s wrong. At least about it being okay. Because now I can truly admit to myself that it won’t be.

I’m not over him. Not by a long shot.