"If you're planning to kill me," Romes said, "then you should know I have at least three knives on me."

She hopped over a log. The trees were shadowy fingers, and she could smell damp earth and something more flowery. Jax walked alongside her; his hair was dark and messy, and his warm arm brushed her side. He held up a branch.

"I'm not planning to kill you."

"Well," Romes said, ducking under it, "you would say that, wouldn't you?"

Jax dropped the branch. "Are you always this suspicious?"

"Only when men lead me through strange woods at night."

She could see the curve of Jax's smile. "Good thing I'm just one man."

"Hmm."

"And this is a forest," Jax added. "Not a woodland area."

"Same difference," Romes said.

"It isn't, actually." Jax's voice was mild. "Forests are denser and have more canopy cover." He paused, surveying the area. Listening for something? He nodded, apparently satisfied. "We're almost there."

Jax started down the path. Romes scurried after him.

"How do you know so much about plants?"

"I read a lot," Jax said. "And I own a flower shop."

Surprise flitted through her. "You own it?"

He must have been — what, seventeen? Eighteen? It occurred to Romes that she'd never actually asked. She was sixteen, but she'd be seventeen next month. Not, she thought firmly, that it mattered; this wasn't going to be a "I've-baked-you-a-chocolate-birthday-cake" friendship. It wasn't going to be a friendship at all.

"Well, my parents own it," Jax said. "My father once used it as an office. He was—"

"The king's strategist," Romes finished. "I know."

Everyone knew who Antonius Blackwater was. He'd started five wars and won just as many. The kingdom had tripled in size under his watch. Romes sometimes spotted Antonius striding through town, his collar pulled up, pomegranate juice dripping down his chin. He'd started as a foot soldier; these days, he was one of the most influential men in the kingdom.

"Right," Jax said. "So Dad began working from the palace more, and the space fell into disrepair. I asked if I could clean it up and turn it into a greenhouse." He skirted around a rock. "And then people started showing up and asking to buy things."

Romes tipped her head back. "Your parents must be proud of you."

"I think Mum is," Jax said. "In her own way."

"And your father?"

When Jax spoke, his voice was quiet. "I'm not sure my father is proud of anything. Except for Percy, maybe."

They walked on. A flash of silver caught her eye. Wind-Singer, Romes realized; Jax had the sword strapped to his back. She'd grown accustomed to seeing it on him, but it still looked strange. His hands were made for healing, for growing things; it was odd to imagine him using such gentle hands to destroy something.

Romes nudged his shoulder. "How many flowers can you name?"

Jax's smile was wry. "A lot."

"Okay." Romes pointed. "What about this one?"

Jax followed her gaze. "That's a gnatterbush. The roots are brewed into a tea to soothe a sore throat." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "You have to be careful of the leaves, though. They sting your eyes."

Romes didn't need him to spell it out. Stinging eyes meant tears. And tears meant monsters. Got it. She pointed to another flower: a delicate, translucent thing, shimmering like glass in the moonlight. "And this one?"

"That's a skeleton flower," Jax said. "People plant it on top of graves. The flowers are meant to help the dead rest peacefully."

She pointed to another. "And this?"

"Romes." Jax looked amused. "That's a sunflower."

"Oh."

He shook his head, but he was smiling. "Come on. We're here."

They emerged into a clearing. A stream cut through the grassy bank, coiling like a black velvet ribbon. She could hear crickets and frogs, trickling water and wind rustling leaves. The only thing of note, Romes observed, was a large purple rock in the centre of the stream.

Romes raised an eyebrow. "You wanted to show me... a rock?"

"Wait for it," Jax said.

He sat down on a boulder. Romes stood, scanning the stream.

Something changed.

Colour rippled across the surface of the stream. Champagne pink. Frothy gold. Sunshine yellow. The stream looked like a sea of stars, a thousand miniature suns burning in the cool waters. Romes knelt by the water, running her hand through it; the lights darted between her fingers like fireflies.

She looked over her shoulder. "What is it?"

"Bioluminescent seasmoke," Jax said. "As the plant matter decays, it interacts with sediment in the water to form a chemical reaction. It's only visible to the human eye at the darkest part of the night."

Romes smiled. "You're such a nerd, Blackwater."

She moved her hand; the light scattered, and something swelled in her chest. This, Romes thought; this was what she'd been missing. She kicked off her sandals, wading into the stream. The water was cool between her toes.

Jax's gaze was steady. "You never came to my flower shop."

She splashed through the water. "I don't really go out much."

"Why?" Jax asked.

Because my father doesn't like it. Romes looked away. "I help out at the shop a lot. It's a family business."

"The butchers?" Jax clarified.

"Yeah."

"Does your mother work there as well?" he asked.

Romes picked up a pebble; the stone was slick in her hands, worn down from years of being battered and bruised. "Mum died when I was nine."

She braced herself for the pity. The sympathy. She'd seen it all before. But Jax merely kicked off his shoes, wading into the stream. He'd rolled his trousers up to his knees, and his calves were naked and pale in the darkness.

"How?" Jax asked.

Romes hesitated.

She didn't tell people the truth; she always invented something else. She was sick. She was in a carriage accident. She was eaten by a pack of feral pegapiglets. Fiction, made more outrageous for the assholes who pushed her for an answer. But they could very well die tomorrow, Romes thought. So what the hell?

"It was my fault," Romes said. "We went to the Silver Pools together — you know those swimming holes? — and I was mucking about on the rocks. Mum kept telling me to be careful, but I wanted to prove to her that I could do it. I jumped off a boulder and caught my leg on the way down. Shattered my ankle in three places. The pain..." She clutched the pebble. "I'd never felt anything like that before. It was immense."

"Did she come in after you?" Jax asked.

"Yeah." Romes's throat was thick. "She did."

"She drowned?"

"No," Romes said. "No, Mum got me to shore. She kept telling me to calm down, to be brave, and she looked terrified. I'd never seen her so panicked before. And then I realized that I was crying." The pebble was cold in her hand. "And then the monsters came."

Jax exhaled. "Romes..."

"She had an oar and a sharp rock," Romes said. "I guess she hadn't been expecting it. The worst part was that her father was a soldier; she'd grown up learning how to swing a sword. If Mum had her butcher's knives on her..." The lump grew thicker. "But she didn't."

Jax's voice was unbearably gentle. "You didn't mean to hurt her, Romes."

"I should have known better," Romes said.

"You were a child."

"I was a liability." Her voice was steady. "And I knew that I shouldn't cry. Every child knows that."

"What was she like?" Jax asked.

"Clever. Funny." The words came immediately. "She used to set up treasure hunts for my birthday. I'd have to solve clues across Exerbury just to find my present. It would take days, sometimes, and she never gave me any hints."

Jax nodded. A faint turquoise glow was rising from the stream, cupping his chin; his blue eyes winked in the darkness. "I'm sorry. About all of it."

"Why?" Romes kicked at the water. "It's not your fault."

"No," Jax said softly. "But it wasn't your fault either."

He ran a hand through his hair. She could tell that Jax was searching for the right words, that whatever he said next, he wanted to get it exactly right. She tossed the pebble, hard; it hit a tree and rebounded into the stream.

"Your father isn't a good man, is he?" Jax asked.

Romes felt the oddest urge to laugh. That was such a Jax way of putting it, she thought; Asa would have called her father a grade-A arsehole. Xander would have called Roan a disturbed individual with antisocial personality disorder. But Jax had a way of cutting to the heart of things, of taking something big and complicated and making it simple. Maybe that was the power of writing.

"That's one way of phrasing it," Romes said.

Jax's gaze flicked to her arm. "Your bruises..."

Romes rubbed her shoulder; the bruises had healed now, but she could still feel them, teeming beneath the skin like invisible ghosts. "He never forgave me for what I did to Mum."

"Why didn't you leave?" Jax asked.

Romes laughed, but it was humourless. "Where would I go? Besides, I feel like..." She looked down at her empty hand. "Sometimes I feel like there's no point in any of it. Like there's nothing good left in this world. Or I did feel that way, at least."

"Until what?"

Until I met you. The words stuck in her throat. Until I watched you eat that stupid mustard sandwich and get it all over your chin.

Water splashed. When Jax spoke, his voice was closer. "Romes."

"Yeah?"

"Why did you come with us?"

Slowly, Romes lifted her gaze. "I think you know."

Her heart was slamming in her chest. Jax was looking at her in a way that countless men had looked at her before — eyelashes lowered, gaze sleepy, pupils blown wide — but for once, Romes didn't want to push away. She wanted to pull him closer. Wanted to taste him, to make him gasp her name.

Jax leaned down. His warm breath fanned her face.

Romes turned away sharply. "I can't."

There was a pause. Jax looked dazed.

"Sorry." He shook his head, as if clearing it. "I overstepped."

"It's not that." Her mouth felt dry. "I..."

How to explain? Once, Romes recalled, she'd owned a doll; her name was Greer, and she'd been a pretty little thing, with golden ringlets and a pink pinafore dress. Greer would go on all sorts of grand adventures: climbing steep mountains, and swimming in sinkholes, and racing carriages through barren deserts. Greer was destined for greatness.

After Romes watched her mother die — and after her father's beatings began — she'd buried Greer under an olive tree in the back garden. But there was a foolish part of Romes that still believed in happily ever afters, and she had done her best to starve it out over the years by feeding it a healthy diet of cynicism and the entrails of men. And this night — this moment... It was dangerous.

It could ruin it all.

"You don't have to explain," Jax said. "I get it."

"No, you don't," Romes said. "Don't you ever feel like...?" She fumbled for the words; it was like trying to light a candle in the dark, like trying to mould clay with her eyes closed. "Okay, it's like this: if I let someone get close to me, then I'm giving them the power to hurt me. Why would I take that risk?"

Jax looked away. When he spoke, there was something wounded in his voice. "I would never hurt you."

"I've heard that before," Romes said, without malice.

"No," Jax said. "I'm not explaining it right." He shook his head in frustration. "I can't hurt you. It would be like stabbing a needle into my finger. Everything in me — every instinct I have — is to be good to you. I don't know another way of being."

Something caught in her throat. "Blackwater..."

"You don't believe me." Jax nodded, as if he'd expected it. "It's okay. We haven't known each other that long."

"I do believe you," Romes said, and she was surprised to find that it was true. "I believe you because you're that way with everyone."

His smile was wry. "Soppy?"

"Selfless," she said.

Jax's face was lit with that eerie blue light, his eyes the colour of clear summer waters. She was suddenly hyperaware of every sensation: the cool water between her toes, the frantic thump of her heart, the burble of the stream.

"I'm afraid to let you in," Romes whispered, and it felt like the most honest thing she'd said in years. Jax's gaze was steady.

"Give me an opening," Jax said softly. "That's all I need."

She tipped her face up. "Kiss me."

Jax lowered his face.

His mouth was warm and rough, his face stubbled from weeks on the road. His arm wrapped around her waist. He tasted of salt and lemon something unbelievably Jax. Heat pooled in her stomach. Romes fisted her hands in his hair, her mouth hungry and searching. She'd had kisses before — kisses with boys behind shops, rolling around in fields, below dingy pub signs — but not like this. Never like this.

"Romes," Jax said.

Her name was half a groan, half a prayer. She felt drunk on sensation. She thought of the sharp knives hanging on the wall in the butcher's, the way that some of the blades could slice straight to the core. That's what this kiss felt like, Romes thought; a heart-slicer.

Jax pulled back. Blue sparks danced along the water, jumping and then dying. Their breathing was harsh and erratic.

"Blackwater?" Romes asked.

"Yeah?"

"If we die tomorrow," Romes said, "then I'm happy I met you today."

His answering smile was a star in the darkness. "We met like, three weeks ago."

"Creative license." Romes waved a hand. "I thought the line sounded better."

She hitched up her trousers, climbing out of the water. Jax stood alone; he could have been a statue in the moonlight, she thought, some strange marble fountain that had sprouted from the depths of the stream.

"Romes?" Jax asked.

"What?"

Jax stuck his hands in his pockets. "Are we going to tell the others about this?"

"Absolutely not," Romes said. Good lord, she could think of nothing worse. Xander would ask a million questions, and Asa would be insufferable. "Let's just keep it between us. I doubt they'll notice we're gone."

Jax nodded. "And if they do?"

"They won't," Romes said confidently. "Asa wouldn't notice if a mushroom sprouted feet and started tapdancing in front of him." She wriggled into her shoes. "There's nothing to worry about. Trust me."