Caroline slowly exhales and stares at James directly into his eyes. He doesn't back away, and I'm surprised. Her stare could burn a hole through anything.

Then her glare softens and she nods slowly. "Okay," is all she says before disappearing. Not walking off, but actually vanishing from sight!

James sees my shocked look and says, "It's normal. She does it all the time. She also did it when we left the group of people back there." He pointed in the direction we'd come from.

"What did we do, exactly?"

"Caroline is part of the shadow house, remember? That means she has the power and control over them. She can bend shadows to basically make her invisible. It's easier to do it at night, because it would be weird if there was a random shadow in broad daylight."

I guess that makes sense. "Well, where did she go?"

"Hopefully off to the palace, to explain things to her father, so that I don't die immediately."

"What?! Why?"

"Ouch," he says, putting his hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt, just as I had done before. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

I roll my eyes. "I mean why would they kill you immediately?"

"I know that. They'd kill me because they probably think I killed those people, no matter what the king says."

I look over to the dark forest, then over to the town, newly alight with sunlight, then back to James. "Where to now? If it doesn't matter what the king says, where would we go if you don't want to die on sight?"

He thinks for a moment, before saying, "There's a small place out behind my house that no one uses anymore, but still works. We could even play a game or something."

"Sure. Sounds like fun," I say as we start walking back in the direction of James' house.

~**~

After a bit of walking, a bit of doubt creeps its way into the pit of my stomach and lies there, growing.

James knows I don't know how to get around Glezentine. He could be leading me in the wrong direction.

But why would he do that? I kept countering myself.

Why would he kill those people?

He didn't kill anyone. I scold myself.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" asks James, finally breaking the silence. "You're usually asking a billion questions right now."

I glare at him and he puts his hands up in a placating gesture. "It's just a question. You're being very quiet, and it's honestly a little unsettling. From the moment I met you, you've been very ... talkative."

It's sweet that he asked, but he needs to learn how to phrase things better. "I'm fine, just thinking."

"About what?"

"Once it's all over."

"What's over?"

"Look who's asking all the questions now." I say, smirking at him, but answer anyway. "Once the competition is over, I'll either be dead, which isn't good, or I'll be done everything, and the border might let me through. But what happens if it doesn't? That's the only way to get to the other side, right? And if it thinks I didn't work hard enough, try hard enough, do anything hard enough, will it still let me through?"

What had started as a small lie, a seed, becomes a flower blooming. I realize that question has been haunting me ever since James said he's gone to talk to the border. It felt nice to let the questions out in the open, for someone else to deal with.

"Wow," says James, surprised, but also a little sad for me. "I didn't think that's what you were thinking of."

"What did you think?"

"Well, if it were me in your place, I'd be questioning you and asking myself if you actually killed eight people, and if I should be following you through a place I don't know."

"That's ... actually very spot on." I say, surprised.

He nods. "I know."

I roll my eyes at him. 

We arrive at a rectangular patch of gravel with a hoop on each end.

"Huh. I didn't know you guys knew how to play basketball," I say, looking at the court.

"What's that?" He asks, confused.

"Basketball?"

"Yeah."

"A type of game. If you don't play that, what do you play here?"

James goes to a box leaning against the side of a house, and pulls out a rubber ball that looks remarkably similar to a basketball.

"This," he says, "is a Guardomen, meaning ball in Glezentinian."

"I had no idea there was an actual language for this place."

James then points to the hoops. "Those are called Sacomora, meaning Nets. Put together, it's Sacomora Guardomen. But most people just say one or the other."

"So it means 'Net Ball'?"

"Yes."

"How is that any different than Basketball?!"

"I don't know what that is, so I'm going to tell you how to play."

I nod.

"So, there are two teams, one on each half. Then they each try to get the Gaurdomen in each other's Sacomora. It's very simple."

I nod again. "That's exactly like basketball. It's what I've been saying this whole time."

"Okay?" He says it more like a question.

James tosses the ball, sorry, Guardomen, to me. "If you know what you're doing, try to shoot it in the hoop."

I've never been good at shooting, and I have terrible aim, so I'm a little hesitant to embarrass myself in front of James by missing badly.

He senses my hesitation and says, "You can do it! Just as my Grandma always says, If your head and heart are true, then your aim will be true too!"

That helped a little, and I decide I like his grandma. "I must warn you, I'm terrible." I say.

He just grins.

I take my shot.

The ball sails through the air ... and hits the rim, bouncing off. I catch it in the air as it comes sailing back to me.

"That was pretty good." says James, looking impressed.

"You think you can do better?" I challenge, an eyebrow raised.

"Gladly."

I throw him the ball and he catches it easily.

James takes a few breaths, shifts his feet, and shoots the ball towards the hoop.

I hope that it goes in, because it would be a satisfying swish, but I don't want him to brag about how good he is.

The ball hits the rim, and then slowly starts turning around the rim of the hoop. It goes around twice before finally drops to the outside.

James lets out a small chuckle. "I somehow knew that was going to happen. Not when I was shooting, but before. I had a feeling that I was going to miss."

"Whatever the case, you lost."

"What? No. You also missed it." He says back to me.

"Yeah," I say, "but I wasn't trying to get it in to prove a point."

"And what point might that be?"

"That you could shoot better."

"And I did. I had a much better shot."

"No, you missed too, so it wasn't a better shot. We both missed."

James sighs. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

I smirk, knowing I had won the argument.

I grab the ball, walk closer to the net, and take another shot. This time, it hits the backboard and drops in.

"Yes!" I say excitedly, and pass the ball to James.

Instead of going forward, he takes a few steps back, trying to get a more impressive shot.

He shoots the ball, and it flies through the air, and misses the hoop by a lot.

I smile as he goes and gets the ball, and we both take turns shooting the ball for a while.