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refuge, almost startled Jesse. “If we had wanted to kill you, we would have done it by now.”
    He was right, Jesse knew. If Ira and Telemachus were on the side of the king, they would have been killed instantly.
    â€œSorry we had to meet the way we did,” Ira said, shrugging his broad shoulders. He too began to roll up his sleeve. “As a token of good faith,” he said, “though it might be a bit hard for the young lady there to see.”
    He soon found that with his burly arms, his shirt wouldn’t roll all the way to his shoulder. “Bah,” he said, giving up the attempt and pulling his shirt off. “There it is.”
    He had exposed his right arm, the puckered skin covered in red welt-like scars from his shoulder to just before his elbow. “Hot coals,” he explained, his face hardening. “I was the only one of my squad who survived the attack. I knew I would have to take desperate measures to keep them from finding me. It was the only way I could think of to disguise the Guard tattoo. I tell folks I was badly burned in a fire that consumed my parents’ house.”
    Jesse shuddered, not just because of the raw flesh, but because he pictured Ira burning it himself, screaming in pain. He would never make Silas, Parvel, and Rae do something like that…would he?
    Ira put his shirt back on. “ Once he knew you were Guard, Telemachus found me. We thought we should get you away from there before anyone else recognized you.”
    â€œHow would they?” Rae asked. “I doubt many of the king’s men stop by houses of refuge.”
    â€œEspecially in this district, it can’t hurt to be too careful,” Ira said. “The king hates us, you know. Wants to kill every Youth Guard member, to destroy the young ones who might fight back against him.”
    â€œWe know,” Jesse said, cutting him off.
    Ira looked a bit disappointed at the reaction. “Then you know that only a few get away from him alive. Those who do need to stick together.”
    â€œAnd so you bring us to a Patrol outpost?” Rae said, using her sharp words like a dagger. “How is this any safer than the house of refuge?”
    â€œBecause we know how to make you invisible,” Telemachus explained patiently, not seeming flustered at all by Rae’s outburst. “After all, we’ve done it ourselves. We can get you disguises, help you fake an accent or a mannerism, get you jobs in a town somewhere so that you can live in perfect obscurity.” Now that he had dropped his act, he spoke with perfect articulation and a slight District Two accent. “That’s what I’ve learned to do at the house of refuge.”
    â€œYes, about that,” Jesse said. “Do you always act…?” Jesse trailed off, trying to think of a polite way to finish his sentence.
    â€œRude, surly, and hostile?” Telemachus suggested. “Only to strangers. To the priests and the orphans, I’m a gruff, loveable hunchback. They know they can trust me with anything. I don’t talk much about my past. But then, no one at a house of refuge does. And no one asks questions.”
    â€œThe perfect place to hide,” Parvel said thoughtfully. “An excellent choice, Telemachus.”
    â€œMy name isn’t really Telemachus,” he admitted. “I chose it for myself, once I went into hiding. And you’ll do the same. I have a friend who can forge papers for you with your new identities.”
    â€œWhat if we don’t want new identities?” Rae asked.
    Jesse groaned. Why does she always have to pick a fight?
    â€œThen you apparently want a death sentence instead,” Telemachus said.
    â€œFresh bread!” Willa exclaimed, bustling through the door with a tray of rolls and breaking the uncomfortable silence. She began to hand out the rolls; then stopped when she got to Jesse. “You need two,” she said, winking at him.