Aster calls out a strange word, sounding simultaneously triumphant and choked. I spin. Ice-shards fall toward him through the air, but clatter to the ground before touching him. He falls, and across the room, Veradeaux stands, arms mid-air, mouth open.

One of the guards lets out a gurgling sound, and I snap back. He falls, an open gash across his throat. Idyne stands over him, blood dripping from her silverglass. The other guard is already on the ground, clutching his bleeding gut. Their lives seep from their eyes like the blood from their wounds, and fear and disgust flood my mind.

Leavi stands back, pale. "You didn't have to kill them," she chokes.

"They would have killed us," Idyne says. She turns to Leavi, strange sympathy in her eyes. "Besides, they hurt you."

Leavi's gaze is still fixed on the dead-eyed stares of the guards. Looking for some way to ignore them, I turn her to face the rest of the room. "Look what he did to Veradeaux."

Instead, her gaze fixes on the floor, eyes going even wider as she rushes to Aster's side, fingers flying to his pulse. Blood on Leavi's arm catches my eye. We'll need to tend to that cut when we get to the farmhouse.

She relaxes. "He's alive."

I pick my way through the ice to Veradeaux. Closer now, I can see that her chest is rising and falling slightly. Her eyes narrow, watching me. Otherwise, though, she's unmoving. It's almost as if an immobile case surrounds her, just enough room between her and it for her to breath and blink.

Her finger twitches, and I start.

"Hey," I call, backing up. "Whatever Aster did, I think it's wearing off."

Idyne hurries over, snagging a candleholder along the way. "I can fix that." She smashes it over the woman's head. Veradeaux's eyes shut, unconscious, but the strange force keeps her erect. I glance back to see if Leavi noticed, but she's preoccupied with Aster.

"We should leave as soon as the spell's worn off," Idyne says.

"Yeah." Uneasy, I glance at the bodies. Remorse fills me. I force myself to look at their faces, to commit them to memory. They deserve that much at least. One is a blond fellow with a crooked nose and thinned-out cheeks. He holds the ceiling in an unending stare, never to close his eyes again.

The other is the man who forgot his truncheon. The one who talked about drinking every night.

The remorse for him drains. His family's probably better off without him.

Behind us, there's a thud, and I turn. Veradeaux is limp, sprawled on the ground. Idyne picks up the woman's arms and drags her to the door. I help Leavi carry Aster.

In the halls, we hear a few guards hurrying toward us—they must have heard the fight—but Leavi leads us around them, back out the side entrance, and we speed off the grounds. We keep off the path, staying at the edge of the woods, as we walk to the farm. When we make it to the farmhouse door, I push it open. Tired and coming off the adrenaline high, I just focus on putting one foot in front of the other as we file in.

The door closes, and Jacin peels from the shadows.

Idyne yelps. "What're you doing here?" Smoothly, she slides between Jacin and Veradeaux, cutting off his view of the woman.

He eyes the slumped form of Aster between Leavi and me. "I was curious why you all disappeared from the inn." His gaze locks with Leavi's, and her free hand wanders to her necklace. "I had a feeling you might be here."

"Yeah, well, everything's fine," I say. "None of your business, so..." I gesture at the door.

He takes a wary step toward it. Now at a different angle, his gaze snaps to the unconscious, snow-dusted form of Lady Veradeaux. Trepidation flashes onto his face.

Blazes.

"What have you done?" he accuses.

Leavi's head turns to him, and she hurries to set Aster down. "It's not what it looks like."

He raises an eyebrow. "It's not? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you dragged the lady of the manor through the snow to an abandoned building." His voice takes an edge. "I get the feeling she didn't agree to that."

She steps closer to him. "She wanted to kill Aster, to kill all of us."

"Leavi," I hiss. The creep doesn't need to be hearing this. As always, she ignores me.

"Well, if you've done something like this before, I'm not shocked."

"Jacin, please." She steps forward and sets a hand on his shoulder. Her voice lowers. "You know me. We were just trying to protect ourselves." She stares into his eyes, the home of a darkness I'm shocked she's not noticed yet. "She is not a good woman. Please. Please don't turn us in."

His gaze moves down to Leavi's arm, where blood trails down her skin. "You're hurt," he murmurs. His fingers brush her shoulder, and my skin crawls at how quickly he turned from accusatory to concerned.

"It's shallow. It'll be fine." I heard the way she called out when the knife slashed her skin, but I understand not wanting his interest any more than necessary. Then again, I doubt whether that's her actual reasoning.

"You have to come back to the inn. Marcí's worried sick about you." His voice is disconcertingly soft, giving me the uncomfortable feeling that he's forgotten there are others in the room.

"I left a note," Leavi says.

He chuckles softly. "She thinks you're dead in a snowdrift somewhere."

Leavi offers a thin smile. "We're leaving in the morning."

"If the brewing storm doesn't keep you. And if it does, you'll be plenty grateful for a warm house and good food." He looks over Leavi's shoulder at Veradeaux. "What are you going to do with her?"

Leavi drops her hand. "Keep her here. We take her with us when we leave."

He raises his eyebrow again, appearing doubtful. He looks like he wants to say something, but Leavi glances back at me before he can. "Are there any locks you didn't break?"

I nod. "Put her in the last room."

"On it!" Idyne says, pulling Veradeaux that way.

Leavi fully faces me. "He's right about the storms." She glances at Aster's unconscious form.

I watch her. Jacin clearly has ulterior motives in coming here, in convincing her to go back, yet she's going along with it anyway. She didn't heed my warnings before about him, and among illogical, nonscientific-minded people, she chooses to trust them more than me.

I'm not even sure at this point why she feels the need to justify the idea to me. Especially since, even if I objected, she'd argue with me until I gave in.

I shrug. "Fine."

As we gather everything to head back to the Kuddly Kitten, painful resignation settles in my chest. She doesn't want me around. She's said to my face that I'm hard enough to handle when she needs me. For her—just like for everyone else alive in this world—I'm more of a snarky burden than a companion. Even my own uncle couldn't bear to keep me around. If blood would toss me into an undergrounder school—far from family, from home, from the sky—the only reason anyone else would want me is if I'm useful. No. I'm definitely not Leavi's friend, not here, where she seems to have made plenty of those.

Numb, I head with everyone else out the door.

She doesn't want me. I'm just going to have to accept that and act accordingly. Because, even though I've known her longer than any of these people, gone through struggle after struggle and their eventual successes with her, even though I'm the only one that understands where she's from and how leaving there has hurt her, one fact somehow remains.

She doesn't need me.

When we reach the Kitten, I go straight to the room dubbed mine after Leavi gave mine away.