"Can your toenails fall off?" Romes asked.

She was sitting by a stream, her black trousers rolled up to her knees. Her feet looked like pale shells in the water. Jax scrubbed at his sword, trying to ignore the metallic scent of blood. Xander — who'd been happily dunking his shirt and wringing out the excess water — raised an eyebrow.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Xander asked.

Romes wriggled her toes. "It's a real question."

"Oh." Xander perked up. "In that case, yes." He squeezed the shirt. "Toenails are made of a hardened protein called keratin. If the toenail experiences blunt trauma or injury, then it can detach and—"

"Some of us," Asa said loudly, "are trying to eat."

He stuffed a bit of canned fish into his mouth. Romes smirked.

She wriggled her toes more vigorously. "Squeamish?"

"No," Asa said, "but I don't want to hear about your toenails." He held out a chunk of fish for Bibi. "I don't want to hear about any of your nails, actually."

Bibi munched on the tuna, her bum wiggling in delight. Asa patted her head. The other boy had taken a real shine to the pegapiglet over the last six hours; Jax didn't have the heart to mention that fish gave Bibi terrible gas.

Jax set down the sword, leaning back on his palms. The sky was the colour of milky tea, and he could see a few birds circling like black ghosts. His whole body ached; he felt like he'd been put through a meat grinder several times, and then punched into the shape of a hamburger. No wonder Percy had been so miserable all the time.

"Oi," Asa said. "Fish Food." He turned, and the other boy held out a chunk of cooked meat. "D'you want some rabbit?"

Jax's stomach flipped over. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Asa raised an eyebrow. "You look like crap."

Jax almost smiled. "Cheers."

"Here," Asa said. "Take the rabbit."

Jax took the rabbit. The meat felt hot and dry in his hands, and he imagined the rabbit's frantic heartbeat. He surreptitiously hid the meat in a clump of tall grass. This is getting ridiculous, Jax thought. I just have to tell them I'm vegetarian.

He opened his mouth.

"It's not kenophobia," Xander said, interrupting his thoughts.

They all turned to look at him. Xander was shaking out a boot, his expression very calm. Jax exchanged a look with Romes.

"What isn't?" Romes asked carefully.

"Earlier," Xander said, "I told you that the empty sky was kenophobia. A fear of open spaces. But that's not exactly true." Several pebbles shook loose of the boot. "It's what that empty space represents."

"Oblivion?" Romes asked.

"A lack of birds," Xander said.

Jax avoided looking at the others. The trouble with Xander, he thought, was that it was impossible to tell if he was joking; it was like trying to guess what was inside a sealed box, but also you were blindfolded and had a purple hedgehog chewing on your ears.

Asa lowered his chunk of rabbit. "You're scared of there being... no birds?"

"Birds are excellent indicator species," Xander said. "Their migration patterns can be used to determine the health of an ecosystem. If there aren't any birds..." He popped the boot on to his right foot. "Besides, I have a personal investment in birds. They're my friends."

"Xander," Jax said slowly. "What were you arrested for?"

A terrible suspicion was forming in his mind. Xander's expression turned cagey.

"It was a misunderstanding," Xander said.

Jax waited. "Okay."

"I'm not really a criminal." Xander definitely sounded defensive, now. "I didn't mean any harm by it."

"I'm sure you didn't," Jax said.

"Xan," Romes said. "What did you do?"

Xander muttered something. Asa — who'd been leaning over the stream, trying to fix his hair in the reflection — cupped his ear.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I broke into the world's largest zoo," Xander said, his voice growing louder, "and set all the birds free."

There was a moment of silence. Bibi curled up in Asa's lap and fell asleep, her small wings fluttering. Asa stared at Xander as if he'd announced that the sky was actually made of dandelions and green cheese.

"You're joking," Asa said.

Xander crossed his arms. "They weren't happy in there. You should have seen the state of the cages. And half of them were starving."

"That was you?" Jax asked.

The newspapers had a field day with the headlines. A Crime Most Fowl. An Ill-Eagle Act: Mystery Man Breaks into Zoo. Jax could recall sitting around the morning breakfast table, watching his father chomp on a boiled egg and flip over printed pages. "This is a disgrace," Antonius Blackwater had announced. "Someone needs to be fired. Immediately."

Three weeks later, Jax heard customers at the flower shop whispering that someone had finally been arrested. He'd never caught the name.

"How did you do it?" Jax asked.

"Oh, it was simple, really," Xander said. "I spent months developing a fake identity as a zoo inspector. I paid several visits to the zoo to gain the guards' trust, then I scaled the wire and cut a hole in the roof using bolt-cutters." He waved a hand. "From there, it was a matter of steering the birds to safety using a mix of polarized light and birdcalls."

All three of them exchanged looks. Romes cleared her throat.

"How long is your sentence?" she asked.

"Life." Xander sat down on a tree stump. "But Zark said I could go free when we complete the mission."

Asa's eyes narrowed. "When you said that Zark offered you something better than money..."

"Oh, that," Xander said. "He promised to set up a bird rehabilitation programme. A proper one, this time. I can have a say in how it's run." He adjusted his red bandana. "It will be a hub for ornithologists everywhere."

Jax waited for incredulity, but it never came. Of course it didn't; this was Xander. Asa, however, was looking at Xander like he'd waded into the stream and announced that he intended to marry one of the fish.

"Let me get this straight," Asa said. "You're battling man-eating monsters — and risking your life — so that you can set up a glorified chicken coop?"

"Technically," Xander said, "it's called a bird sanctuary."

Asa rubbed his face. "I can't believe this."

"I can," Romes said. "Nobody's doing this quest out of the goodness of their own heart."

"Oh, yeah?" Asa's eyes grew steely. "Why'd you come, then? The lovely man-eating fauna? Delightful bit of trench foot?"

Romes shrugged. "Wasn't doing anything else, was I?"

She was filing her nails with a silver knife. Her expression was casual, but her eyes never left the blade. Jax recalled how the squidarium monster transformed into Roan, the way her father had taunted her with a maniacal gleam in his eyes. It was easy to face the monsters out here, Jax thought, when there were worse ones at home.

Jax turned to Asa. "What about you?"

The other boy took a vicious bite of rabbit. "What about me?"

"Who was that man?" Jax asked. "The one in the robes?"

Asa's face shuttered. "I don't know."

"Really?" Jax asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jax knew that he was pushing — pressing until he hit a bruise — but he didn't care. Romes was still staring at the knife, her mouth a flat line. If Asa wanted brutal honesty, Jax thought, then it worked both ways.

"Be straight with us," Jax said. "Why'd you agree to come on this quest?"

Asa wiped his grassy hands on his trousers. "I think that's enough heart-to-hearts for one day." He rose. "Who has the map?"

Xander held out a piece of paper. "What's next?"

"River of Blood," Asa said, leaning over his shoulder to inspect the map. "Then on to the Scorched Plains."

"Cheery," Jax muttered.

"Not loving the bit about rivers of blood," Romes said, yanking on a boot. "I'm more of a 'rivers-of-chocolate' kind of girl myself."

"Singular," Xander said.

"What?"

He tapped the map. "It's just one river of blood."

"Oh," Romes said dryly. "Great. Nothing to worry about, then."

She rummaged around in her bag, pulling out a leather flask. Jax's heart skipped a beat as she knelt towards the water.

"Don't," he said.

His voice came out harsher than he'd intended. Romes paused, the flask hovering above the water. Jax could feel everyone staring at him, and his cheeks warmed. "There's a Varantella Plant. Just over there."

He pointed upstream at a low, flowering shrub. Everybody stared.

"Lovely in a spring bouquet?" Jax prompted. "Lethal when you ingest it?"

More blank faces.

"Never mind." He dropped his hand. "The point is that the water here is no good. We'll have to hike further upstream."

"I'm busy with the map," Asa said.

His voice was short. Jax had the feeling that he hadn't been forgiven for his interrogation earlier, and that Asa was strongly considering shoving his face into the death-inducing stream. Xander rose, brushing grass from his trousers.

"I'll go," Xander said.

"Not so fast, Bird-Boy." Asa held out the map. "You understand bird flight stuff, right?"

"If you mean migration patterns," Xander said, with a long-suffering look, "then yes. I'm an ornithologist."

"Whatever," Asa said. "This river is crawling with monstrous birds. I need your help figuring out how to avoid them."

Xander hesitated. "Can't it wait?"

"Do you want to die in the River of Blood?"

"I can do it," Jax said. "I'll get the water."

It was hardly a strenuous task. All he had to do, Jax thought, was walk about fifty metres upstream and fill a few flasks. The other three exchanged looks. He was reminded of parents deciding whether to let a toddler explore the lawn without a leash.

"I'll go with him," Romes said.

Jax sighed. "You don't need to—"

"Come on," Romes said, rising. "Let's go."

The air smelled faintly of lemon and herbs, and the sun was breaking through the clouds, beating down on the back of Jax's neck. Twigs snapped under his feet. Romes walked in complete silence. Of course she did, Jax thought; the woman could have been a trained assassin.

"So," Romes said finally.

Jax shifted the flasks. "So."

He knew it was coming. Still, Jax tensed when Romes tipped her head back, raising her face to the sun. There were freckles on her cheeks, he thought, like brown speckles on a pale lily; he hadn't noticed those before.

"It wasn't just siren magic, then," Romes said.

She looked to him for confirmation. Jax's ears grew warm.

"No," he said. "It wasn't."

"You find me attractive," Romes said.

Her face was unreadable. Jax looked at the shallow stream and wondered if it was possible to drown yourself in less than three feet of water. Perhaps, he thought hopefully, some of the fish were carnivorous. "Anyone would find you attractive."

"For the record," Romes said, "Percy isn't my type." She crouched by the stream, unscrewing a flask. "He tried it on with me a few times at the shop. I had to hit him with a meat tray once. I don't go for men like that."

Jax swallowed. "Like what?"

She looked up. "Heroes."

Her green eyes were the colour of summer apples. Jax's heart lurched to life, battering at his chest. He uncorked a flask, kneeling on the slippery bank. He didn't look at Romes when he spoke. "What is your type, then?"

He waited.

And waited.

When Jax looked up, Romes was frowning at the flask. She raised it up to the sun, as if she could see through the brown leather. "What do you reckon? Is this water safe to drink?"

"Should be," Jax said.

She nodded, satisfied. "Thank-you, by the way." Her lips twitched. "For saving my ass."

"I owed you," Jax said.

"How did you know?" Romes asked.

"What?"

"When you threw that sword at the monster." Her green eyes were steady. "How did you know which one I was?"

Jax shrugged. "I just did."

Romes laughed, outright this time. "Bullcrap. You guessed, didn't you?"

A bone-weary tiredness swept through him. He screwed the lid of the flask back on. I just know you, Romes, Jax thought. I know what your voice sounds like. I know the exact shape of your face. I know you. I'll always know you.

But he wasn't a character in a book, Jax thought, and words like that sounded a lot creepier when they were said out loud in the real world. So instead, he looked at Romes and said, "I had a fifty-fifty shot."

For a moment, Romes studied him. Then she kicked him in the ankle, hard.

"Ow!" Jax rubbed at his leg indignantly. "What was that for?"

Romes shrugged. "I only hit one ankle, didn't I?" She turned. "Consider it a fifty-fifty injury."