He hesitates.
“You shouldn’t know about what my hair does when you cut it. It’s one of their secrets. He’ll wonder how you know, and then he’ll wonder why you would help me when you were the ones who beat me up.”
Raspin drops my hair. Instead, he touches the tight cuffs that pin my hands behind me. He enters a code, and they spring open. I almost can’t move my arms—their stiff ache is excruciating—but I slowly bring them in front of me, then bend over at the waist and hug myself. “You want to help me?” I ask Raspin when he hovers in front of me. He stares at me in an oafish sort of way. “When I save Astrid’s life for you, you owe me. The only payment I’ll accept from you is in the form of protection. You owe me Trey’s life, Raspin. No matter what happens, you have to protect him.”
I wait as he crouches down to my eye level. “It takes the best in us to tie ourselves up fer love.”
“Did my father teach you that?” I ask with a bitter laugh. “Love is the worst, Raspin. It sets fire to us just to see who it can kill.”
He looks at me almost helplessly. From behind him, Giffen nudges his shoulder with a canteen. Raspin takes it from him and holds it out to me. I drink, trying hard to ease my tight throat.
“We have to go,” Giffen says in a quiet voice from behind Raspin. “Would you like to change before we leave?”
My torn and bloodstained lilac dress is a tale of sorrow. It’s also grass-stained and split up the side, exposing my right leg and most of my thigh. I wouldn’t actually care all that much, but thinking of facing Kyon in it makes me feel even more vulnerable. “Is Charisma still here?” I ask.
“Is she the older or the younger female?” Giffen counters.
“Younger.”
Giffen goes to the doorway; one door still hangs askew from Raspin’s rampage. He speaks to a couple of armed men in the corridor outside.
When Charisma enters the room, she gives a soft cry, seeing Trey bleeding and unconscious on the floor. Her face pales, but she fights it as her voice hardens. “Trey needs medical attention. Will you let us tend to him?”
Giffen seems to remember Trey. He appears about to argue with her, but Raspin pushes them both aside, clearing a path to Trey. He picks Trey up and hoists him over his shoulder before staring at Charisma expectantly. They start to leave the room together, but Giffen stops them. “You can get someone to treat him,” he instructs, “but then you have to bring back something for Kricket to wear—something she can travel in.”
Charisma’s attention is drawn to me for the first time. She blinks back tears when she sees my swollen face. I lift my chin because I don’t need pity. “Bring me what I wore here, Charisma,” I murmur.
“All right,” she replies in a weak voice.
She leaves the room, and with her departure I’m alone with Giffen.
Giffen paces for a bit, every once in a while looking in my direction. I confuse him, I can tell. I haven’t tried to bargain with him, or attempt to get him to change his mind. I haven’t asked him any questions about himself or the other lost boys, or Astrid, or Pan, or the prophecy. It’s bothering him.
“Are you hungry?” he asks me in an irritated tone. “Do you want something to eat?”
“No. Kyon will feed me; it’ll give him something to do. He’ll want to show me how well he can take care of me.” I don’t really know if that’s true. I just want Giffen to stop talking to me.
Giffen’s frown darkens and he becomes surly again. “He won’t be able to care for you long. He’s going to die like the rest of them!”
I don’t reply.
Giffen resumes pacing. In a few moments, he pauses to evaluate me. “You’re nothing like her.” I raise my eyebrow, wondering for a moment whom he means. “Astrid,” he says, studying me. “You’re nothing like her; she is all heart.”
I don’t react, except to say softly, “Well. I guess Pan picked the right one, then.”
That response was not what he was hoping for from me, because he looks a little like I punched him in the stomach with my remark. “She’s part of the prophecy too, did you know that? We have to protect her,” he says cryptically.
“Then protect her.”
“It’s what I’ve sworn to do.”
“Well, from where I’m sitting, you’re not very good at it.”
The silence stretches on for a bit. When he doesn’t stop staring at me, I look at him with a level gaze and ask, “What? What do you want from me, lost boy? Do you want my understanding? Do you want me to say it’s okay that you’re kidnapping me and trading me to the enemy?” I keep my voice calm but full of scorn. “Do you want my forgiveness because you’re just doing what you’re sworn to do?” I shake my head before looking up at the ceiling. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve found myself in this same situation, I could buy this entire planet!” I straighten and meet his eyes again. “So get away from me with your whining for absolution. You get nothing from me!”