My butt has barely hit the cushion when the train hums gently as the maglev activates, then sails smoothly into motion. The world outside the window slides past slowly first, then faster and faster until it’s nothing but a blur. We sail along, nearly frictionless, past the wards guarding the city from the contaminated wastelands beyond and out into craggy mountains. On our way.
My head is a mess. I want to scream, want to tell them to stop the train, because this would be great, an adventure, but for two things.
I want to share this moment with Remi. Our first time leaving Kyrkarta, and they’re right by my side, like I always thought they would be. But they won’t look at me. They may as well be on the other side of the planet.
But more than that, it’s the sick certainty in the pit of my stomach.
When we get to Jattapore, the others are going to stay.
And I’ll be going back alone.
In the days before the plague, the high-speed train to Jattapore would have taken an hour at most. It’s less than four hundred miles away, connected directly by rail. With the decreased train service, though, we’re forced to ride a loop that circles through several surrounding cities. Stop in Batista, take forty-five minutes to load and unload passengers, on to the next city, rinse and repeat. What used to be a one-hour trip now takes almost six, and once we’re locked in a compartment together, it takes barely twenty minutes for the anger and resentment to boil over.
Remi stares out the window, silent, with their forehead pressed to the clear acrylic. They’re utterly disconnected, save for the occasional heavy look they shoot in my direction. Jaesin somehow manages to turn sitting next to them into worried hovering without saying a word, shooting glares at me every time I so much as shift in my seat. Ania stares off into space in a way that I know means she’s reading a book on her lenses, her face twitching into slight smiles, frowns, and confusion along with the story.
The atmosphere is oppressively awkward, and I’m about sick of it. I get it, I screwed up, but am I going to be ignored and punished forever? Even while we take on this huge investigation into something that I discovered? I was the only one willing to figure out what happened, and I was right, and we’re finally doing something about it—but somehow I’m still the jerk everyone hates.
Right as I finally decided to pull up a movie on my lenses and zone out, Remi stands from their seat, shoves past us all, and slips out of the compartment, shutting the door behind them with a solid click.
I stare at the closed door. My fault, probably. Everything is my fault. I glare at the door and turn back to face forward . . . only to find Ania and Jaesin staring me down expectantly.
“What?” I snap.
Jaesin practically snarls, and Ania rolls her eyes. My skin prickles with the hostility radiating off them both, putting my hackles up.
“What do you mean, what?” Jaesin says, terse. “Go after them.”
“Why me? I didn’t do anything. They just left.”
Ania slaps her hands on her thighs, shockingly loud in the small compartment, and actually stands so she can glare down her nose at me.
“You didn’t do anything? Are you serious?” she says, about five seconds from actually shaking a finger in my face. “You are such a hypocrite, Diz, always like ‘Let them make their own choices’ and ‘It’s up to them what they feel well enough to do,’ but you’re the one that acts like they’re contagious. Do you even remember what happened on the bridge after the job? You ditching us right after the worst experience of our lives was only the most recent in a long line of terrible things.”
Remi’s hands on my hips, dancing close, me pulling away.
Remi’s fingers brushing my knee, the stars bright overhead, the words “Ask me to stay” heavy in the air as my brain goes blank.
Remi reaching for my shoulder, the touch of their skin like poison, recoiling, slamming into Jaesin, into the crowd, fighting back nausea—
Wait, is that what everyone thinks? What Remi thinks? That it’s about their illness? That’s not it at all.
I shove the memories away and scoff to cover my moment of hesitation. “Obviously they’re not contagious. The spellplague can’t be spread by—”
“Oh my gods, Diz, I could actually slap you right now,” she says, cutting me off. Jaesin laughs bitterly.
“She’s right,” he says. “Get out of this compartment and go after them.”
“You can’t just tell me—”
Ania steps closer, crowding me toward the door.
“Get. Out.”
I leap to my feet with a growl and throw the compartment door open. “Assholes.”
I slam the door behind me and stalk off down the hall. They may have chased me out of the compartment, but they can’t make me actually talk to Remi about whatever problem they’re having. What, I’m not allowed to have some personal space? I’ll just walk around for a bit, explore the train, enjoy my first train ride.
Or not.
Because there’s Remi, standing alone in a long stretch of hallway, peering out a ceiling high window with their forehead resting against their arms, stacked on the glass. Something in my chest gives an aching little tug.
Damn it.
I chew on the inside of my lip, then sigh and walk over. Remi doesn’t acknowledge my approach, or even look over as I slide to the floor beside them, my back against the wall of the train and my knees pulled up to my chest.
“Hi,” I say several eternal minutes later.
Silence. Great. The quiet game is my favorite.
“Jaesin and Ania made me come talk to you.”
And that’s obviously the wrong thing to say, because Remi barks out a harsh laugh.
“Yeah. Of course they did. Obviously you’d never actually talk to me on your own.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“No, but it’s the truth, Diz. It’s the truth and I’m tired of it.”
I scowl and yank at the hem of my borrowed skirt, wishing I’d thought to change when we first got on the train. I feel like I’m sitting here trying to have a conversation while wearing a costume.
“I don’t know why I’m the only bad one here,” I finally blurt. “I went out and investigated the problem we caused, all of us, and I come back with something real, and you were all just ready to DITCH me—”
“You left us first—”
“You were planning to leave anyway!” I shout, loud enough that a train attendant pokes his head through the doorway, then leaves again. I breathe hard, the air never quite enough, my eyes burning, burning. I try to pull it all back inside, but it’s out there now, spilling over and raw and plain to see.
We’re silent for a long moment, my words echoing like the ring of a hammer strike, like the lingering rumble of a bomb blast. Finally, Remi turns and slides down the wall, sitting beside me with a careful twelve inches between us.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Diz. We used to have so much fun. The concerts, the stars, the movie nights. All of the . . .” They swallow. “All of it. I get that you have issues. We all do, after what we’ve been through. But you don’t have to let it keep you from . . . from the things I think you want.”
And that sends a shot of pure panic through me. Everything’s exposed, naked and bleeding, and people always say they’ll stay . . . but it’s not true, it’s not. No one can really say, not for certain, so what’s the point of anything, of—