"You told me that you were done."

Analiese's arm stretched across the doorway, blocking me from entering my room.

"What are you talking about?"

"Jackets are silent when they fall on the floor, but yours wasn't at Mrs. Lafreau's," she accused. "What are you hiding?"

"I don't have time for this, Analiese. Move your hand so I can pass."

"No, Celeste!" Her teeth clenched. "I wasted 8000 on your empty promise that you would stop. And now, I have to lie for you to mother?"

"I never asked for your help."

"What would you have done if I hadn't given it?"

"I would have found a way."

"Are you sure about that? Because the only person who seems to be holding all your lies together is me."

"You give yourself too much credit."

"No, Celeste. You underestimate me. You have no idea how much I've done for you."

"Well, I'm formally releasing you from whatever duty you think you have towards me."

"I will always be your older sister."

"Since when has our familial bond ever mattered to you?" I scoffed when she fell silent.

Her eyes dropped, but then she looked up to match my stare. "Outside these walls isn't freedom. I know you think it is, but it's not. No one is free, not even Father. Even he is bound to the responsibilities inherited from his father. You have to learn th—"

I raised my hands as if to touch her. She skirted to the side, her back glued to the wall.

"If the touch of your little sister terrifies you that much, I think you have more to worry about than me."

I brushed past her and slammed my door shut. Pacing the breadth of the room, I tried to slow my breathing. I tried to control the hot tears welling in my eyes.

"Celeste."

I looked up, following the sound of the deep voice.

A dark, cloaked figured haunted the far corner of my room.

The journal, hidden in my coat pocket, slapped my thighs as I pivoted to fling the door open and flee. A hand slammed over me, blocking the door from opening. I was barricaded between the hulking stranger and the plush walls.

The beginnings of a scream tore my throat before becoming smothered when the hand left the door to muffle my mouth. I was brought back to the snowy banks of the outer ring of the city, where an unknown man stifled my shrieks. I heard the whiz of the bullet exiting the barrel.

"Celeste." The whisper was more urgent and annoyed this time, and the stranger whipped the mask from his head. Tousled, red curls stood up on his head like spikes. Bright, green eyes glinted like emerald jewels. Jack's hand fell from my face. "It's me."

"Jack!" I lunged towards him, wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing tightly. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

He returned my hug slowly, increasing his grip on my body in small increments as if he were afraid he'd break me. Whispering in my ear, he said, "I've missed you, too," before gently batting my arms away. "But that's not why I came."

"Then, why—"

"Celeste," he interrupted. "I need the journal."

I leaned back. My head bumped into the wall behind me. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. I need the journal back."

"You can't have it back, Jack. It's mine."

"No, you stole it."

"And then I paid for it in full. All 10,000 citz worth."

Stuffing his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a jumble of bills. "I'll reimburse you. I have all your money. I didn't touch any of it. Just give me the journal."

"No, I don't want the money. I want the journal, which I already have, meaning whatever business we had is over."

Returning the bills within the folds of his jacket, he said. "I'm all for keeping your money, Celeste. The problem is that I don't accept your answer. I need the journal back. Make it easier on yourself, Celeste. Just tell me where it is."

Ducking his arms, I ran to the opposite wall, behind my bed. "As I told you before, you can't have it."

He didn't respond with words, only in action. His long legs ate up the distance between us. I didn't wait for him to reach me. Rocking on my feet, I hurtled on top of my bed, landing precariously on the edge. I scooted backwards, warding him off with my raised palm.

"Don't you dare take another step, Jack. I will never tell you where it is, so you might as well go home."

"That doesn't work for me. Besides, you're not that original. I can guess where you stashed it." His eyes dipped down, right below my chest. Shivers spread across my stomach where the journal pressed against my skin.

"Guess again," I said. I tried to sound convincing, to wipe the truth from my eyes, but he saw through me. A small smile crossed his face as he advanced.

"As I said, you're not that original."

"Jack, it hasn't even been a full day since we last saw each other. Why would you need the journal? I paid you 10,000 citz to insure you a life free of poverty. Why are you breaking your word now? You have everything you wanted." I gazed down at him from my elevated position.

"The only reason you'd be here was if you'd stolen it"—I stopped; his face had blanked as if he had something to hide— "from the wrong person." I slid from the bed and crossed toward him. "Jack, what did you do?"

"Nothing no one else in my position wouldn't have done."

"Jack..."

"Fine!" He spread his hands out. "I stole the journal. It was red and gold, something I knew you'd like, something I knew you'd pay money to keep, so I took it. I never would've taken it if I'd known it would cause me so much grief."

"So what now?"

"Now, you return what was never mine to give."

"There must be another way."

"Another way? My life is on the line. I could be dead, hanging by a tree, as early as tomorrow. There is no other way."

I didn't want to give it up, but there seemed to be no other choice. I'd grown accustomed to its heavy mass weighing down my clothes and banging against my body as I walked.

"Who wants you dead?"

"I don't know." Jack shook his head. "Since this morning, there've been whispers amongst the smugglers. The higher-ups are angry, and I'm not waiting to figure out what they'll do next."

"How would they find out that it was you who took the journal?"

"You overestimate my skills. It won't be that hard to figure out it was me. These people—they're not like me. They don't mind shaking up neighborhoods for the information they need. Eventually, the trail will lead to me."

"Jack, no one kills over a book that doesn't even open."

"I didn't sell you a key. That doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

"Even then..."

"Even then nothing. I'm not sacrificing my life for a book."

"No, but that doesn't make sense."

He took a step forward. I took a step back. "I don't want to have to ask you again, Celeste."

I unbuttoned my coat, parted the flap, and retrieved the burgundy journal. The braided gold gleamed. Holding it up to his face, I said, "What I can't believe is that a business-minded person like yourself would let such an opportunity pass you by. What's inside this journal is worth more than 10,000 citz. The secrets hiding inside are a treasure, something worth killing for. Don't you want to know why?"

I felt the rush of the thrill sizzle inside me like the hot embers within the fireplace.

His bright eyes met mine. "You're right. There's money to be made from this."

"Could have been, Jack. Remember, it's mine now."

I never saw his hand move. I only felt the absence of the journal's weight in my hand. I blinked and saw the deep crimson of the journal engulfed in Jack's hand, as if it had never been mine. "How easily fate changes." He tipped my chin up with his finger.

I reached for it, but he pivoted. "I'll be needing the excerpt, too." He brought the journal to eye level. Almost to himself, he said, "I'll have to figure out a way to put it back in this without messing it up."

As I ran around, trying to recapture the journal, I said, "Good luck. The pages don't even open." 

Bringing irritated eyes to meet mine, he said. "What are you talking about? They came together."

"Separately? Because that's the only way. It could never have come from inside the journal."

"No, I stole them separately, but everyone knows the excerpt was torn from the journal."

"How? Even with the key, I don't see how that is possible." Snatching the journal from his slack hands, I drew a finger over the pages bound and locked by the clasp. "See how the pages don't open." I tried prying an individual page from another, but I couldn't. They were glued together like a solid.

"It's like they're not even real. Normal pages don't behave like this. Regardless of the lock, the pages should at least move apart when I try to manually split them." I met his gaze. "There's no way the excerpt could have physically come from the journal."

His eyes narrowed. "It must be a fake. She must have lied."

"Who, the person who sold it to the smugglers?"

He didn't answer my question; instead, he said, "Then, there's no real value in this journal."

"None at all." I enunciated the fact.

His eyebrows furrowed. For the longest time, his eyes shifted as he thought through what I'd just told him. Finally, he lifted his head up, and his face cleared. "Can I still have the excerpt?"

I shrank from him, preparing to dodge to the right. "Why?"

"We're the only two people who know the truth about the journal. I can't tell these suspicions to my crew, but if you want to keep the journal, I need something to show my boss." I opened my mouth, but he cut me off with a firm shake of his head. "It's best if you don't ask any questions."

I fetched the excerpt from the seam of my coat and handed it to him, while keeping the journal by my side. His eyes ran over the script before tucking it into his pocket.

He turned to leave, but my hand stayed him. It rested on his chest. "How'd you get into the palace?"

A smirk touched his face. "I'm a guy with many friends."

"Are you sure you'll be safe, Jack?"

His hand covered mine and gripped it hard. "If I play my cards right."