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She’s quiet so long, I begin to think she didn’t hear me When she does speak, it’s ame, her brown eyes intent on ht to feel strange, coeness is that it doesn’t "Why doesn’t this Fury touch you?" I find"Where are your drea her shoulders A muscle in her jaitches before she speaks "I don’t dreaets the Fury dreams sooner or later"

"I don’t dream, Cormac At all Not once since--sincebase ran all kinds of tests on me, certain I just didn’t remember my dreams, but their machines proved I sio mad if you didn’t"

"Soht, and the ss into place doesn’t reach her eyes "They think the reason I don’t dream is the same as the reason the Fury can’t take ood a theory as any They say I have no soul That this place can’t break me because I have no heart to break"

She’s only lit by the outside lah her broken , but I can h cheekbones and the way her lips press together as she works to keep her composure "Well now," I murmur "You know that’s not true And I know that’s not true"

She doesn’t answer right away, and she drops her eyes to the blanket, where our hands are inches apart In the silence, I can hear the rain on the roof above us finally starting to die out "You can’t know it’s not true," she whispers, refusing to look at me "What do you know of souls and hearts and how they break here? You don’t know me at all"

"Oh, Jubilee" My resolve shatters, and my hand slides toward hers She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t look up either, watching h hers "Hearts and souls and how they break? That’s all Avon teaches anyone"

But words won’t do

It’s wrong, and stupid, and a hts My hand ertips down her teht carried deep in ister the softness of her skin, still flushed ith sleep; it’s a truth I couldn’t dare admit to myself, not when I first saw her at Molly’s, not when I treated her wounds, not e spoke in the quiet of the Fianna’s caves But if it’s all headed for an end anyway--if to war, and death, and chaos--then this truth, right here, is all I have All either of us has

She doesn’t ers reach her jawline; abruptly she lifts a hand, fingertips connecting with h to pull it away But she doesn’t Her touch onso quickly that I can feel the flutter of her pulse in the contact of her thu ht; I feel it like hters, both of us--tired of fighting

"I do know you," I whisper, and hear her breath catch in the darkness

I lean forward, tilting--tiny movements, little invitations and questions, each of us hesitant But thenelse fades away into the rain and the quiet

Then her hand atme back "Get out," she murmurs, those eyes suddenly shuttered Only the flush reer, away fro, trying to pull o Now"

"Jubilee--"

Her other hand co the barrel intooff my words Her hair’slike Stone-faced Chase, but her grip on the Gleidel doesn’t waver "I said get out"

I ease away slowly, keeping my hands where she can see them, and rise to my feet "Please, Jubilee We have to talk about what to do, for the ceasefire, for Avon" I knohat else I should say: I’ize; this is the first thing I’ve felt sure about in un up, a barrier between us "We don’t do anything You go ho more for you to do here Go, and letit hard to iine there was ever a spark of heat in her response to my touch

I back up a step toward the"Don’t do this I need your help Together we have a chance to stop this"

She’s in control now, a soldier from head to toe "If you wanted a collaborator from my side, you should have picked soo, Cormac" She ss hard "Please"

That last word is an appeal, not an order, and that’s what defeats me "Clear skies," I whisper A refusal to surrender hope A wish for the impossible