I WAKE UP to the sound of hushed voices, talking fast and urgently. I lay still on my bedroll, hoping to catch up to the bickering. I hear soft snores from the other side of the tent, and I turn to smile at the sleeping faces of my friends.

Squinting my eyes open, I gauge that it is still early in the morning. A flap in the roof shows the sunlight is diffusing its way into the night sky, chasing away the dark remnants. I stretch my ankles and move them in circles, relaxing at the pressure it releases.

"You wouldn't dare." A female voice seethes with suppressed rage, pulling my attention back.

"Why not? If my identity is out, it's only fair yours is, too."

"Your identity did not hurt anyone. Mine will," she whispers angrily. I realise with a jolt that it is Katrina and Matthew.

"Except for one person," he spits, like the very thought disgusts him.

I hear Katrina sigh in exasperation. "Look, I've kept my mouth shut at your request. I held up my word; it was not my fault last night. I can only ask for the same respect from you."

I cannot hear anything else. Maybe Katrina has walked away or maybe Matthew did. I do not know but I find it hard to go back to sleep. I push myself off of the ground, groaning at the prospect of facing a new day.

However, my heart feels lighter today. I smile and raise my arms to stretch them behind my head. I get off my makeshift bed, pull on a light shawl around my shoulders, and step outside. The sun is just blinking from its sleep, draping its weak rays over the water.

The sea breeze caresses my face and I tilt my chin up, closing my eyes. I snap my eyes open when I hear a shuffling noise next to me. Matthew stands to my right, his balled fists stuffed into his military pockets.

For the first time since I had met him, he looks. . . tired. His hair is disheveled and it falls over his beautiful blue eyes. There is a light stubble on his chin, making his cheekbones look more hollow than it is. His eyes are trained on the sea ahead, refusing to meet mine.

So, I avert my gaze, too. I have nothing to say to him. I now know who he is and why he kept diverting my attention away from his history. I know why he seemed so familiar to me the first time I saw him.

He had the same eyes, the same hair, the same tilt of his smile like someone close to me. Amelia Jones. Matthew Jones. The brother who would never be given a second glance. The brother I had promised Amelia I would save.

"You know I have my reasons, right?" He says softly, his unflinching gaze sweeping over the shore. "I don't want you to misunderstand my motives."

That turns out to be too much for me. Misunderstand his motives? I did not even know what his motives were, in the first place!

I whirl on him, my face scanning his. "So, it was me? The one who you thought would despise you? Why would I? What for?"

Matthew steps back, his eyes widening. "You heard that?"

Shaking my head, I let out a small laugh of bitterness. "That's all you took away from this conversation, Matthew? What would I have done if you'd told me? Dragged you back home?"

He begins to speak but I stop him by raising a hand. "No, hear me out. I am just like you. I am Flawed. I understand your pain and I wouldn't do anything to you that I wouldn't desire to be done to me."

I suck in air, letting myself breathe after talking without pause. It hits me like a bolt then; I had called myself Flawed. Of my own accord. I had accepted it and it felt more liberating than I had ever felt before.

"I'm sorry," Matthew says, breaking my monologue to my myself. "I was stupid. I should've known better." He looks at me then, really looks at me. And I see something that I hadn't seen in his eyes before.

Fear.

I hook my arms behind my back, running circles on the sand with my foot. I am unable to stand the direct intensity of his gaze. What is his fear really for? I ask him just that.

"It's not because of you, if that's what you're thinking," he says.

"Then tell me what to think because last time we talked, you made it pretty clear that you did not trust me enough," I flinch at my own words, blatant and harsh.

Matthew heaves a sigh, something that he does a lot. Maybe it's to help with his inherent anger and fear. "I was afraid you'd never look at me the same."

He leaves me speechless. I don't know what to say or think. So, I laugh disbelievingly. "And why does it matter how I look at you?"

Biting down hard on his lower lip, Matthew turns away, his back towards me. I see the muscles on his back flex as he says, "I worried you'd think I was a monster. For hiding myself and breaking my sister's heart."

His shoulders shake and I feel a sudden tug to comfort him. I don't, I hold myself back, waiting to hear him completely. "I've seen you and Amelia together, Cynthia. I knew when I ran and my father helped me hide that you wouldn't be able to bear her pain.

"I didn't know what to say to you when I saw you again. I thought you'd recognise me, accuse me of never letting my sister know I was okay. But when you didn't realise who I was, I was desperate to keep it that way."

My eyebrows furrow and tears threaten to spill over my eyes. Despite the emotion choking my throat, I ask, "Why?"

Matthew slowly shifts on his feet to look at me. His eyes are red rimmed and his fists are clenched at his sides. His jaw is tight and a vein pops on his neck. He wants to say something but he can't.

I don't need him to. I know.

"Impossible," I whisper, my heart uncomprehending what was happening right in front of me.

"Since the day I met you, Cynthia. Since the day I met you," Matthew mumbles softly, referring to a childhood full of memories. He seems to remember where we are because a mask snaps up over his face.

He smiles at me, a rueful kind, as he walks back to his tent, leaving me alone on the shore with my thoughts. I am not offended, I conclude. I'm okay with this solitude. I need it right now, so I let myself slip down on the sand and sit.

I don't know how long I stare at the horizon; the sun is now shining brightly upon the sea. A nearby sound pushes me out of my trance and I scramble to my feet.

Macaria stands right behind me, her eyes a little less shadowed than before. I know it has everything to do with me asking her to help last night and I'm glad I did. She sure looks a lot better today.

My eyes fall on something dark, airy, and moving past her. I crane my neck and my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. Three more horses, their manes of beautiful black silk, stomp their hooves. "For your friends," Macaria says, her lips curving up just a little.

I nod and say thank you before moving past her to my tent. My friends are already up and dressed. Will hugs me as soon as I step inside and Christina joins in. Tyler waves from a distance before leaving.

"You okay? Didn't see you when we woke up," Will says, concern lining every syllable.

"I am. Just went out for a stroll, nothing else."

They nod before leaving me to get dressed. It's a matter of minutes for me, now. I have grown used to my cargo pants and military jacket. The falcata is almost a part of myself when strapped to my back and the guns and knives feel like they belong in my pockets.

I step out and Orphnaeus trots up to let me get on top of his back. Katrina and Will ride up next to me, Tyler and Christina join a minute later. Lorrenia, Darsh, and Matthew move to stand behind me and I rub Orphnaeus' mane encouragingly.

"Whenever you're ready, big guy," I whisper to him. He doesn't wait; he shoots forward like an arrow and before I know it, we're racing over the sea waves, the wind in our hair and the sun on our faces.

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