KennaCleo, the wife, mother, and matriarch of the property where Evander and I fell through the sky into their chicken coop, sets a huge clay platter on the kitchen table–an old, gnarled table graying with age and wear–and smiles brightly as she lifts the lid. Fragrant steam wafts into the air as roast chicken and an assortment of vegetables come into view. I’m starving and still riding a high from jumping for the first time. I honestly can’t believe I did it. But now we’re in Eastonia, and we’re so far away from the Roguelands that neither of us can mind-link with our families back home. So, we’re stuck. For the meantime, at least. I don’t mind in the slightest. We’ve been here for several hours. Cleo immediately took me inside their cozy home and found me a change of clothes–her youngest son’s shirt and pants that are so long I had to cuff the sleeves and roll up the pants by several inches–but I’m warm, and my body isn’t as broken as I thought. My back is sore from breaking th

Kenna “Kenna.”I reach up to rub my eyes, my back stiff from sleeping on the ground. “Kenna, wake up.”Someone shakes me gently. “Hey!”“What?” I groan, blinking into amber light shining directly in my face. I squint, and Evander’s features come into view, his expression washed with concern. “Ev? What’s going on?”“You need to get up and come with me.”As I come back to reality, unkindly thrust out of a dream I think had to do with the upcoming Rite, I hear voices outside. Evander wastes no time. Suddenly, I’m standing, and he’s laying a cloak over my shoulders, clasping it over my sternum. He works deftly in silence. Fabric brushes against my collarbone, and I feel a sudden spark of familiarity at the touch. I step back, feeling like I just experienced a shock to my system. 

Kenna Evander shuts the door. The lock clicks, and for a moment, the only sound I can hear is my heartbeat racing in my own ears. He looks… conflicted. Unsure–and unsteady. “You–you smell like vanilla candles,” I whisper, unsure if I say the words out loud or only in my head. But he looks at me, holding my gaze. “I do?” he asks quietly, his voice taking on a tone I’m not accustomed to. It’s softer than before, less on edge. I nod, finding it impossible to swallow past the lump forming in my throat. “Why?” I ask, because it’s the only word frantically bouncing around my skull. “Why do I smell like the vanilla candles you like so much?” He takes a step toward me, then another, but there’s still an incredible amount of distance between us. “Yeah, why?”Evander’s jaw clenches, and his eyes dart to his boots. Guilt clouds the fine features of his face. But I