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FORTY-FIVE

A wild, painful laugh burst through Kel. “You think I have AB? That’s ridiculous.”

“You’ve barely slept since we left Fieror,” Dira said quietly. “You’ve always had a temper—but the past weeks have been different. There’s this rage in you that I’ve never seen before.”

Kel’s mouth dried. It was true—over the last two months, a new kind of fire had entered Kel’s veins. Though it had sparked at strange times, she’d welcomed it. It had helped her learn what she needed to try to save Savita.

“AB patients’ symptoms flare up around each other,” Dira pressed. “That would explain why you don’t remember Estra.”

Kel’s memory whirled back to the mother and son they’d seen on the train, struck down by AB. Although AB wasn’t contagious, it was strange to see two sick people near one another. Symptoms flared up when victims were in close proximity, like adding gasoline to a flame.

“This isn’t real,” Kel said, desperately trying to stop the shaking in her hands. “This has to be a dream. None of you would ever be this cruel.” She choked back a sob.

“Kel,” Dira merely said, voice trembling.

In that moment, when Kel saw a gleaming wetness in her friend’s brown eyes, Dira’s words hit her. Kel had never seen her best friend cry.

Kel looked down to her shaking hands. She scoured her mind, searching for any grains, any moments, that proved that they were lying.

Kel could only think of how little she’d slept since leaving Fieror. The strange, itching paranoia that blazed through her and flared without warning. The sudden anger. Even the trembling that had stopped her from grabbing Cristo’s fountain pen.

The memories that escaped her.

Kel was flung back to the lecture hall, beside Cristo. Back to the last words he’d said to her.

Move her to the hospital wing. Make sure she’s as comfortable as possible.

Even he’d known.

Kel resisted the urge to look at Coup. She thought of what she and Coup had said to each other, just minutes ago. Plans of returning to Fieror. Plans for a future.

Kel forced a deep breath. “Okay, so I have… AB. This doesn’t change anything.”

Anger and fear tried to swell in her chest, tried to drown her.

She shoved it all down. She buried it all alongside her father and Oska and her mother’s postcards.

She focused instead on Savita, flaming and everlasting, and her chest eased, ever so slightly.

She didn’t have the energy—or the time—to worry about herself and Savita.

Dira made an incredulous sound. Seconds later, the guard peeked his head through the door. “Time’s up. Rahn, Canen needs you.”

The other Howlers turned to look at their technician. Rahn had been silent, frozen, for too long. Shadows fell across her pale face, deep lines carving into her forehead.

“I didn’t know,” she breathed, almost too softly to hear. “I didn’t— Ashes . Not you, too. None of this was meant to happen.”

More tears streamed down Rahn’s face. The guard called again for her to leave, but she didn’t move.

“None of this was meant to happen,” Rahn repeated. Her jaw set in a hard line. “I’m sorry.”

She turned and fled the room. The guard slammed the door behind her, the sound of a lock jamming in place.

“We still need to save Savita,” Kel pressed.

Her friends looked at her disbelievingly, and Kel raised a hand.

“Look—Cristo’s not going to let me out of here until Sav rebirths.

I don’t know what he’s planning, but he thinks he can make it happen by tonight.

Once she rebirths, he wants to move me to a hospital.

So, no matter what happens when Savita rebirths, my fate is sealed.

” She still couldn’t bring herself to look at Coup. “But hers doesn’t have to be.”

Dira was still looking at her hopelessly, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

Coup’s eyes were hollow.

Kel pressed on. “I don’t care if phoenixes can cure AB. If any of you let Sav die, I’ll come back and haunt you all until Salta burns.”

None of her friends seemed to find her words funny.

Eventually, Bekn managed, “We’re not letting anyone die. You hear me?”

He held Kel’s stare until she forced a nod. Bekn knew as well as anyone that there was no true cure for AB—but at least with Cristo’s facilities, she wouldn’t be in pain.

“I’m going to kill them all,” Dira breathed, her voice too frail to give any weight to the threat. “They’ll wish they’d never heard of the Howlers.”

Kel tried to force a smile, though as she turned to Coup, it vanished. He stood statue-still, his face slack.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look at me.”

There was nothing but smoke and ash in Coup’s eyes. “I knew,” he breathed. “I knew something was wrong. I’m so sorry, Kelyn.”

Kel cupped his face. “This isn’t your fault. It isn’t anyone’s.”

Coup shook his head. “I should’ve seen it sooner. I thought… I thought we had time.”

Kel wished she could reach out and steal the pain from his features. She wrapped her arms around him, and a moment later, his hands were clutching her back.

“We still have time,” Kel lied. “We just need a plan.”

They held on to each other as Dira cursed and pounded on the cell door with weak fists.

Kel didn’t know how to untangle the wrongness coursing through her. Fear, anger, absurd amusement—it was all too much.

She didn’t have time to make peace with AB. Though guilt rippled through her at the thought of Coup and Bekn losing another person to this barbaric blight, Kel only had the time—the energy—to focus on one thing.

Savita.

If AB refused to rear its head until near-death, then Kel refused to give in. She refused to surrender, until death forced her hand.

Because now she was made of fire too, and she’d fight like hell to make sure Savita’s didn’t go out with hers.