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nothing we can do, but I still want to know who’s hurting him. If nothing else, so their name can go on my ever-growing list of people to retaliate against if I get out of here.
    He clamps his teeth together. “Kendaja has taken a kind of liking to me, I guess.” He smirks the slow smile that used to steal the moisture from my mouth. “Who can blame her, right?”
    It should make me smile, but instead it floods my head with anger so forceful it surprises me. Before, when I thought about Kendaja I felt a tiny bit of pity for her. She’s obviously mentally unsound, and her father and brother treat her like a toy or an animal kept on a chain. This, though? Hurting Pax when he’s trapped and defenseless? It pushes me so far toward hatred that I can’t find any compassion for her.
    The intensity of my hatred startles me, and something inside me breaks off and floats away. Probably one of the last good pieces I had left. “She’s not going to get away with it, Pax.”
    “Now, Summer, I know you think you can protect all of us all the time, but that’s not the case. She’s not going to kill me; she’s just playing. And these are just scratches.” He tugs on my ponytail. “So let’s talk about something else.”
    The lump in my throat makes it impossible to do that, so Lucas squeezes my hand and comes to the rescue. “At least she left your face alone. That would be tragic, to ruin that thing.”
    “True. I think she likes it. I mean, she’s insane, but she’s still a woman.”
    Their banter brings a smile to my face in spite of everything, and even though it feels a little wobbly, it buoys my spirits. “Okay, enough. The Prime’s coming back tomorrow. What are we going to do?”
    Neither of them answers, and I take the moment to survey the three of us. By my best estimation, we’ve been locked up here a couple of weeks, maybe three at the most. We’ve all lost weight—there’s no reason to think they’ve been fed any more than I have, and if Deshi’s only having mercy on me, then it’s fair to assume they’ve eaten even less—but other than that we’re all relatively intact. Filthy, reeking, but whole.
    As bad as Pax looks, and as angry as his condition makes me, he’s not incapacitated.
    “Do we try to fight?” I ask quietly.
    They exchange a glance, then Lucas shrugs. “We’re not getting out of here like that. Maybe we could travel. Maybe. But the Spritans are gone for good. What if the bracelets don’t work?”
    I concentrate on the threads ringing my wrist for a moment, and the soft hum of Spritan magic shifts through them. “The magic is still in them. But nothing’s changed. Leaving won’t convince Deshi to join us in our fight.”
    “What fight? I mean, if we die in here, that destroys our chances.” Pax crosses his arms, looking between Lucas and me for agreement.
    “He’s right, Althea. Deshi or no Deshi, we can’t just stand there and let them kill us. That definitely ends any chance we have.”
    “I know, but I think I’m close to making him see things differently. I can feel it. He’s thinking about it.”
    “Deshi’s been to see you?” Pax asks. A swift mixture of guilt and envy crosses his handsome olive complexion. “When?”
    “A couple of times. He brought a salve for my burns and gave me water with the pink stuff mixed in—it healed me, at least from the burns, almost immediately. Anyway he lets me tell him things, about how it’s been out there.”
    “And you think he’s listening?” Lucas muses.
    “I don’t think he’s changed his mind yet, but yes. He’s listening.” I take a deep breath. “But you’re right. The Prime’s coming back tomorrow, so we’ll have to try traveling. Unless they take our bracelets, or put those gloves on us again—you remember, Pax. They block our powers.”
    He nods. “I remember. All we can do is what we can do. If we don’t get out of here, at least Brittany’s working at the cabin. In a few weeks everyone else