ELSA'S POV

Frederic was the only one who stayed calm. Centuries of experience in the emergency room were evident in his quiet, authoritative voice.

"Cassandra, Rapunzel, get Jasper outside."

Unsmiling for once, Cassandra nodded. "Come on, Jasper."

Jasper struggled against Cassandra's unbreakable grasp, twisting around, reaching toward his sister with his bared teeth, his eyes still past reason.

Anna's face was whiter than bone as she wheeled to crouch over me, taking a clearly defensive position. A low warning growl slid from between her clenched teeth. I could tell that she wasn't breathing.

Rapunzel, her divine face twisted into an unreadable expression, stepped in front of Jasper—keeping a careful distance from his teeth—and helped Cassandra wrestle him through the glass door that Arianna held open, one hand pressed over her mouth and nose.

Arianna heart-shaped face was ashamed. "I'm so sorry, Elsa," she cried as she followed the others into the yard.

"Let me by, Anna" Frederic murmured.

A second passed, and then Anna nodded slowly and relaxed her stance.

Frederic knelt beside me, leaning close to examine my arm. I could feel the shock frozen on my face, and I tried to compose it.

"Here, Frederic," Alice said, handing him a towel.

He shook his head. "Too much glass in the wound." He reached over and ripped a long, thin scrap from the bottom of the white tablecloth.

He twisted it around my arm above the elbow to form a tourniquet. The smell of the blood was making me dizzy. My ears rang.

"Elsa," Frederic said softly. "Do you want me to drive you to the hospital, or would you like me to take care of it here?"

"Here, please," I whispered. If he took me to the hospital, there would be no way to keep this from Agnarr.

"I'll get your bag," Alice said.

"Let's take her to the kitchen table," Frederic said to Anna.

Anna lifted me effortlessly, while Frederic kept the pressure steady on my arm.

"How are you doing, Elsa?" Frederic asked.

"I'm fine." My voice was reasonably steady, which pleased me.

Anna's face was like stone.

Alice was there. Frederic's black bag was already on the table, a small but brilliant desk light plugged into the wall. Anna sat me gently into a chair, and Frederic pulled up another. He went to work at once.

Anna stood over me, still protective, still not breathing.

"It's okay, Anna. You can go." I sighed.

"I can handle it," she insisted. But her jaw was rigid; her eyes burned with the intensity of the thirst she fought, so much worse for her than it was for the others.

"You don't need to torture yourself," I said. "Frederic can fix me up. Get some fresh air."

I winced as Frederic did something to my arm that stung.

"I'll stay," she said.

"Why are you so masochistic?" I mumbled.

Frederic decided to intercede. "Anna, you may as well go find Jasper before he gets too far. I'm sure he's upset with himself, and I doubt he'll listen to anyone but you right now."

"Yes," I eagerly agreed. "Go find Jasper."

"You might as well do something useful," Alice added.

Anna's eyes narrowed as we ganged up on her, but, finally, she nodded once and sprinted smoothly through the kitchen's back door. I was sure she hadn't taken a breath since I'd sliced my finger.

A numb, dead feeling was spreading through my arm. Though it erased the sting, it reminded me of the gash, and I watched Frederic's face carefully to distract me from what his hands were doing. His hair gleamed light brown in the bright light as he bent over my arm. I could feel the faint stirrings of unease in the pit of my stomach, but I was determined not to let my usual squeamishness get the best of me. There was no pain now, just a gentle tugging sensation that I tried to ignore.

If she hadn't been in my line of sight, I wouldn't have noticed Alice give up and steal out of the room. With a tiny, apologetic smile on her lips, she disappeared through the kitchen doorway.

"Well, that's everyone," I sighed. "I can clear a room, at least."

"It's not your fault," Frederic comforted me with a chuckle. "It could happen to anyone."

"But it would be my luck that it would happen to me." I replied.

He laughed again.

His relaxed calm was only more amazing set in direct contrast with everyone else's reaction. I couldn't find any trace of anxiety in his face. He worked with quick, sure movements. The only sound besides our quiet breathing was the soft plink, plink as the tiny fragments of glass dropped one by one to the table.

"How can you do this?" I asked quietly. "Even Alice and Arianna…" I trailed off, shaking my head in wonder. Though the rest of them had given up the traditional diet of vampires just as absolutely as Frederic had, he was the only one who could bear the smell of my blood without suffering from the intense temptation. Clearly, this was much more difficult than he made it seem.

"Years and years of practice," he told me. "I barely notice the scent anymore."

"Do you think it would be harder if you took a vacation from the hospital for a long time? And weren't around any blood?"

"Maybe." He shrugged his shoulders, but his hands remained steady. "I've never felt the need for an extended holiday." He flashed a brilliant smile in my direction. "I enjoy my work too much."

Plink, plink, plink. I was surprised at how much glass there seemed to be in my arm. I was tempted to glance at the growing pile, just to check the size, but I realized that probably wasn't the best idea.

"What is it that you enjoy?" I wondered. It didn't make sense to me—the years of struggle and self-denial he must have spent to get to the point where he could endure this so easily. Besides, I wanted to keep him talking; the conversation kept my mind off the queasy feeling in my stomach.

His dark eyes were calm and thoughtful as he answered. "Hmm. What I enjoy the very most is when my… enhanced abilities let me save someone who would otherwise have been lost. It's pleasant knowing that, thanks to what I do, some people's live are better because I exist. Even the sense of smell is a useful diagnostic tool at times." One side of this mouth pulled up in half a smile.

I mulled that over while he poked around, making sure all the glass splinters were gone. Then he rummaged in his bag for new tools, and I tried not to picture a needle and thread.

"You try very hard to make up for something that was never your fault," I suggested while a new kind of tugging started at the edges of my skin. "What I mean is, it's not like you asked for this. You didn't choose this kind of life, and yet you have to work so hard to be good."

"I don't know that I'm making up for anything," he disagreed lightly. "Like everything in life, I just had to decide what to do with what I was given."

"That makes it sound too easy."

He examined my arm again. "There," he said, snipping a thread. "All done." He wiped an oversized Q-tip, dripping with some syrup-colored liquid, thoroughly across the operation site. The smell was strange; it made my head spin. The syrup stained my skin.

"In the beginning, though," I pressed while he taped another long piece of gauze securely in place, sealing it to my skin. "Why did you even think to try a different way than the obvious one?"

His lips turned up in a private smile. "Hasn't Anna told you this story?"

"Yes. But I'm trying to understand what you were thinking…"

His face was suddenly serious again, and I wondered if his thoughts had gone to the same place that mine had. Wondering what I might be thinking if it were me.

"You know my father was a clergyman," he mused as he cleaned the table carefully, rubbing everything down with wet gauze, and then doing it again. The smell of alcohol burned in my nose. "He had a rather harsh view of the world, which I was already beginning to question before the time that I changed." Frederic put all the dirty gauze and the glass slivers into an empty crystal bowl. I didn't understand what he was doing, even when he lit the match. Then he threw it onto the alcohol-soaked fibers, and the sudden blaze made me jump.

"Sorry," he apologized. "That ought to do it… So I didn't agree with my father's particular brand of faith. But never, in the nearly four hundred years now since I was born, have I ever seen anything to make me doubt whether God exists in some form or the other. Not even the reflection in the mirror."

I pretended to examine the dressing on my arm to hide my surprise at the direction our conversation had taken. Religion was the last thing I expected, all things considered. I had never had any beliefs of my own. Agnarr considered himself a Lutheran, because that's what his parents had been, but Sundays he worshipped by the river with a fishing pole in his hand. My mom had never been the church-going type.

"I'm sure all this sound a little bizarre, coming from a vampire." He grinned, knowing how their casual use of that word never failed to shock me. "But I'm hoping that there is still a point to this life, even for us. It's a long shot, I'll admit," he continued in an offhand voice. "By all accounts, we're damned regardless. But I hope, maybe foolishly, that we'll get some measure of credit for trying."

"I don't think that's foolish," I mumbled. I couldn't imagine anyone, deity included, who wouldn't be impressed by Frederic. "And I don't think anyone else would, either."

"Actually, you're the very first one to agree with me."

"The rest of them don't feel the same?" I asked, surprised, thinking of one person in particular.

Feel guessed the direction of my thoughts again. "Anna's with me up to a point. God and heaven exist… and so does hell. But she doesn't believe there is an afterlife for our kind." Frederic's voice was very soft; he stared out the big window over the sink, into the darkness. "You see, she thinks we've lost our souls."

I immediately thought of Anna's words this afternoon: unless you want to die—or whatever it is that we do. I had a sudden realization in that moment.

"That's it, isn't it?" I guessed. "That's why Anna doesn't want to change me."

I had my own reservations about becoming like Anna, but her strange and unexplained reluctance constantly perplexed me.

Frederic spoke slowly. "I look at my… daughter. Her strength, her goodness, the brightness that shines out of her—and it only fuels that hope, that faith, more than ever. How could there not be more for one such as Anna?"

I nodded in agreement.

"But if I believed as she does…" He looked down at me with his unfathomable eyes. "If you believed as she did. Could you take away her soul?"

The way he phrased the question gave me pause. Would I risk Anna's soul? I pursed my lips.

"You see the problem."

I shook my head slowly.

"It would be my choice, though," I said quietly.

"It's hers, too." He replied. "Whether she is responsible for doing that to you."

"She's not the only one able to do it." I shrugged, "If she doesn't want the responsibility." I eyed Frederic speculatively.

He laughed, abruptly lightening the mood. "Oh, no! You're going to have to work this out with her." But then he sighed. "That's the one part I can never be sure of. I think, in most other ways, that I've done the best I could with what I had to work with. But was it right to doom the others to this life? I can't decide."

I didn't answer. It was a sobering thought.

"It was Anna's mother who made up my mind." Frederic's voice was almost a whisper. He stared unseeingly out the black windows.

"Her mother?" Whenever I'd asked Anna about her parents, she would merely say that they had died long ago, and her memories were vague. I realized Frederic's memory of them, despite the brevity of their contact, would be perfectly clear.

"Yes. Her name was Elizabeth. Queen Elizabeth Arnadalr of Arendelle, Her father, King Edward Arnadalr of Arendelle, never regained consciousness in the hospital. He died in the first wave of the influenza. But Elizabeth was alert until almost the very end. Anna looks a great deal like her—she had that same strange blonde shade to her hair, and her eyes were exactly the same color blue."

"Her eyes were blue?" I tried to picture it.

"Yes…" Frederic's her eyes were a hundred years away now. "Elizabeth worried obsessively over her daughter. She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse her from her sickbed. I expected that she would go first, she was so much worse off than she was. When the end came for her, it was very quick. It was just after sunset, and I'd arrived to relieve the doctor's who'd been working all day. That was a hard time to pretend—there was so much work to be done, and I had no need of rest. I hated to go back to my house, to hide in the dark and pretend to sleep while so many were dying.

"I went to check Elizabeth and her daughter first. I'd grown attached—always a dangerous thing to do considering the fragile nature of humans. I could see at once that she'd taken a bad turn. The fever was raging out of control, and her body was too weak to fight anymore.

"She didn't look weak, though, when she glared up at me from her cot.

"'Save her if you can save my other children!' she commanded me in the hoarse voice that was all her throat could manage.

"'I'll do everything in my power,' I promised her, taking her hand. The fever was so high, she probably couldn't even tell how unnaturally cold mine felt. Everything felt cold to her skin.

"'You must,' she insisted, clutching at my hand with enough strength that I wondered if she wouldn't pull through the crisis after all. Her eyes were hard, like stones, like emeralds. 'You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Anna, Please Frederic i'm begging of you and save my other children.'

"It frightened me. She looked at me with those piercing eyes, and, for one instant, I felt certain she knew my secret. Then the fever overwhelmed her, and she never regained consciousness. She died within an hour of making her demand.

"I'd spent decades considering the idea of creating a companion for myself. Just one other creature who could really know me, rather than what I pretended to be. But I could never justify it to myself—doing what had been done to me.

"There Anna lay, dying. It was clear that she only had hours left. Beside her, her mother, her face somehow not yet peaceful, not even in death."

Frederic saw it all again, his memory unmarred by the intervening century. I could see it clearly, too, as he spoke—the despair of the hospital, the overwhelming atmosphere of death. Anna burning with fever, her life slipping away with each tick of the clock… I shuddered again, and forced the picture from my mind.

"Elizabeth's words echoed in my head. How could she guess what I could do? Could anyone really want that for her daughter?

"I looked at Anna. Sick as she was, she was still beautiful. There was something pure and good about her face. The kind of face I would have wanted my daughter to have.

"After all those years of indecision, I simply acted on a whim. I wheeled her mother to the morgue first, and then came back for her. No one noticed that she was still breathing. There weren't enough hands, enough eyes, to keep track of half of what the patients needed. The morgue was empty—of the living, at least. I stole her out the back door, and carried her across the rooftops back to my home.

"I wasn't sure what had to be done. I settled for recreating the wounds I'd received myself, so many centuries earlier in London. I felt bad about that later. It was more painful and lingering than necessary.

"I wasn't sorry, though. I've never been sorry that I saved anna." He shook his head, coming back to the present. He smiled at me. "I suppose I should take you home now."

"I'll do that," Anna said. She came through the shadowy dining room, walking slowly for her. Her face was smooth, unreadable, but there was something wrong with her eyes—something she was trying very hard to hide. I felt a spasm of unease in my stomach.

"Frederic can take me," I said. I looked down at my shirt; the light blue cotton was soaked and spotted with my blood. My right shoulder was covered in thick red frosting.

"I'm fine." Anna's voice was unemotional. "You'll need to change anyway. You'd give Agnarr a heart attack the way you look. I'll have Alice get you something." She strode out the kitchen door again.

I looked at Frederic anxiously. "She's very upset."

"Yes," Frederic agreed. "Tonight is exactly the kind of thing that she fears the most. You being put in danger, because of what we are."

"It's not her fault."

"It's not yours, either."

I looked away from his wise, beautiful eyes. I couldn't help but disagree with him a little.

Frederic offered me his hand and helped me up from the table. I followed him out into the main room. Arianna had come back; she was mopping the floor where I'd fallen—with straight bleach from the smell of it.

"Arianna, let me do that." I could feel my face was bright red again.

"I'm already done." She smiled up at me. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," I assured her. "Frederic sews faster than any other doctor I've had."

They both chuckled.

Alice and Anan came in the back doors. Alice hurried to my side, but Anna hung back, her face indecipherable.

"C'mon," Alice said. "I'll get you something less macabre to wear."

Once we were upstairs, she presented me with a beautiful, expensive-looking, dark blue shirt—the color Elsa loved to see me in.

"It's one of your gifts." She explained.

"Thank you, Alice." I said taking the shirt from her. "Alice," I whispered as she headed back to the door.

"Yes?" She kept her voice low, too, and looked at me curiously, her head cocked to the side.

"How bad is it?" I couldn't be sure if my whispering was a wasted effort. Even though we were upstairs perhaps she could hear me.

Her face tensed. "I'm not sure yet."

"How's Jasper?"

She sighed. "He's very unhappy with himself. It's all so much more of a challenge for him, and he hates feeling weak."

"It's not his fault. You'll tell him that I'm not mad at him, not at all, won't you?"

"Of course."

I changed my shirt quickly after she left, the long sleeves concealed the bandages so Agnarr wouldn't worry. Anna was waiting for me by the front door. As I got to the bottom of the staircase, she held it open without a word.

"Take your things!" Alice cried as I walked warily toward Anna. She scooped up the remaining two packages, one half-opened, and my phone from under the piano, and pressed them into my good arm. "You can thank me later, when you've opened them."

Arianna and Frederic both said a quiet goodnight. I could see them stealing quick glances at their impassive daughter, much like I was.

It was a relief to be outside; I hurried past the lanterns and the tulips, now sad reminders. Anna kept pace with me silently. She opened the passenger side for me, and I climbed in without complaint.

On the dashboard was a big red ribbon, stuck to the new stereo. I ran my finger along the ribbon before pulling it off and setting it under my seat.

She didn't look at me or the stereo. Neither of us switched it on, and the silence was somehow intensified by the sudden thunder of the engine. She drove too fast down the dark, serpentine lane.

The silence was making me insane.

"Say something," I finally whispered as she turned onto the freeway.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked in a detached voice.

I cringed at her tone. "I don't know. Tell me why you're mad at me."

That brought a flicker of life to her face—a flicker of anger. "Mad at you? For what?"

"I could have been more careful, nothing would have happened."

"Elsa, you gave yourself a paper cut—that hardly deserves the death penalty."

"I know that, but still—"

She cut me off with a flood of words.

"If you'd cut yourself at Makayla Newton's house, with Jeremy there and Angela and your other normal friends, the worst that could possibly have happened would be what? Maybe they couldn't find you a bandage? If you'd tripped and knocked over a pile of glass plates on your own—without someone throwing you into them—even then, what's the worst? You'd get blood on the seats when they drove you to the emergency room? Makayla Newton could have held your hand while they stitched you up—and she wouldn't be fighting the urge to kill you the whole time she was there. Don't try to take any of this on yourself, Anna. It will only make me more disgusted with myself."

"How the hell did Makayla Newton end up in this conversation?" I demanded.

"Makayla Newton ended up in this conversation because Makayla Newton would be a hell of a lot healthier for you to be with," she growled.

"I have no interest in Makayla Newton," I protested. "You're the only one I want to be with."

"Don't be so sure."

"You need to calm down."

She didn't respond. She glared through the windshield, her expression black.

I racked my brain for some way to salvage the evening. When we pulled up in front of my house, I still hadn't come up with anything.

She killed the engine, but her hands stayed clenched around the steering wheel.

"Will you stay tonight?" I asked.

"I should go home."

The last thing I wanted was for her to go wallow in remorse.

"For my birthday," I pressed.

"You can't have it both ways—either you want people to ignore your birthday or you don't. One or the other." Her voice was stern, but not as serious as before. I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Okay. I've decided that I don't want you to ignore my birthday. I'll see you upstairs."

I hopped out, reaching back in for my packages. She frowned.

"You don't have to take those."

"I want them," I replied.

"No, you don't. Frederic and Arianna spent money on you."

"I took the shirt didn't I?" I gestured to the dark blue shirt before tucking the presents awkwardly under my good arm and slamming the door behind me. She was out of the truck and by my side in less than a second.

"Let me carry them, at least," she said as she took them away. "I'll be in your room."

I smiled. "Thanks."

"Happy birthday," she sighed, and leaned down to touch her lips to mine.

I reached up on my toes to make the kiss last longer when she pulled away. She smiled my favorite crooked smile, and then she disappeared into the darkness.

The game was still on; as soon as I walked through the front door I could hear the announcer rambling over the babble of the crowd.

"Elsa?" Agnarr called.

"Hey, Dad," I said as I came around the corner. I held my arm close to my side. The slight pressure burned, and I wrinkled my nose. The anesthetic was apparently losing its effectiveness.

"How was it?" Agnarr lounged across the sofa with his bare feet propped up on the arm. His curly red hair was crushed flat on one side.

"Alice went overboard. Flowers, cake, candles, presents—the whole bit."

"What did they get you?"

"A stereo for my truck," and I added quickly, "this shirt, too."

"Wow."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Well, I'm calling it a night."

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Dad."

I hurried up to the bathroom, where I kept my pajamas for just such nights as these. I shrugged into the tank top and cotton pants that'd I'd gotten to replace the holey sweats I used to wear to bed, wincing as the movement pulled at the stitches. I washed my face one-handed, brushed my teeth, and then skipped to my room.

She was sitting in the center of my bed, toying idly with one of the silver boxes.

"Hi," she said. Her voice was sad. She was wallowing.

I went to the bed, pushed the presents out of her hands, and climbed into her lap.

"Hi." I snuggled into her stone chest. "Can I open my presents now?"

"Where did the enthusiasm come from?" she teased.

"I'm curious!"

I picked up the long flat rectangle that must have been from Frederic and Arianna.

"Allow me," she suggested. She took the gift from my hand tore the silver paper off with one fluid movement. She handed the rectangular white box back to me.

"Are you sure I can handle lifting the lid?" I muttered, but she ignored me.

Inside the box was a long thick piece of paper with an overwhelming amount of fine print. It took me a minute to get the gist of the information.

"We're going to Jacksonville?" And I couldn't contain my excitement. It was a voucher for plane tickets, for both me and Anna.

"That's the idea."

"I can't believe it. My mom is going to flip! You don't mind, though, do you? It's sunny, you'll have to stay inside all day."

"I think I can handle it," she said, and then frowned. "If I'd had any idea that you would respond to your gifts this way, I would have made you open it in front of Frederic and Arianna. I thought you'd complain."

"I'd never complain, maybe protest a bit."

She chuckled. "Now I wish I'd spent money on your present. I didn't think you'd be this reasonable."

I set the tickets aside and reached for her present, my curiosity rekindled. She took it from me and unwrapped it like the first one.

She handed back a clear CD jewel case, with a blank silver CD inside.

"What is it?" I asked, perplexed.

She didn't say anything; she took the CD and reached around me to put it in the CD player on the bedside table. She hit play, and we waited in silence. Then the music began.

I listened, speechless and wide-eyed. I knew she was waiting for my reaction, but I couldn't talk. Tears welled up, and I reached up to wipe them away before they could spill over.

"Does your arm hurt?" she asked anxiously.

"No, it's not my arm. It's beautiful, Anna. You couldn't gave given me anything I would love more. I can't believe it." I stopped talking so I could listen.

It was her music, her compositions. The first piece on the CD was my lullaby.

"I didn't think you would let me get a piano so I could play for you here," she explained.

"You would be right."

"How does your arm feel?"

"Just fine." Actually, it was starting to blaze under the bandage. I wanted ice. I would have settled for her hand, but that would have given me away.

"I'll get you some Tylenol."

"I don't need anything," I protested, but she slid me off her lap and headed for the door.

"Agnarr," I hissed. Agnarr wasn't exactly aware that Anna frequently stayed over. In fact, he would have a stroke if that fact were brought to his attention. But I consoled myself with the fact that we weren't doing anything too bad. Our physical rules…

"He won't catch me," Anna promised as she disappeared silently out the door… and returned, catching the door before it had swung back to touch the frame. She had the glass from the bathroom and the bottle of pills in one hand.

I took the pills she handed me gratefully—my arm was really starting to bother me.

My lullaby continued, soft and lovely, in the background.

"It's late," Anna noted. She scooped me up off the bed with one arm, and pulled the cover back with the other. She put me down with my head on the pillow and tucked the quilt around me. She lay down next to me—on top of the blanket so I wouldn't get chilled—and put her arm over me.

I leaned my head against her shoulder and sighed happily.

"Thanks again," I whispered.

"You're welcome."

It was quiet for a long moment as I listened to my lullaby drift to a close. Another song began. I recognized Esme's favorite.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked softly.

She hesitated for a second before she told me. "I was thinking about right and wrong, actually."

I felt a chill tingle along my spine.

"Remember how I decided that I wanted you to not ignore my birthday?" I asked quickly, hoping it wasn't too clear that I was trying to distract her.

"Yes," she agreed, wary.

"Well, I was thinking, since it's still my birthday, that I'd like you to kiss me again."

"You're greedy tonight."

"Yes, I am—but please, don't do anything you don't want to do," I added, piqued.

She laughed, and then sighed. "Heaven forbid that I should do anything I don't want to do," she said in a strangely desperate tone as she put her hand under my chin and pulled my face up to hers.

The kiss began much the same as usual—Anna was as careful as ever, and my heart began to beat wildly like it usually did. And then something seemed to change. Suddenly her lips became much more urgent; her free hand twisted into my hair and held my face securely to hers. And, though my hands tangled in her hair, too, and though we were clearly beginning to cross our cautious lines, neither of us seemed to think to stop. Her body was cold through the thin quilt, but I crushed myself against her eagerly. Her response was immediate and frantic; effortlessly rolling my body on top of her own. One of her hands remained in my hair, the other wrapped around my waist and pulled me in deeper. I felt myself becoming light-headed from the lack of oxygen and her hand was beginning to find its way under my tank top. I felt her ice cold hand suddenly on the bare skin of my waist, under the tank top; the chill made me gasp.

Finally, I gently, but firmly, pushed myself away—desperate for air.

I rolled off her, collapsing back onto my pillow, gasping, my head spinning. Something tugged at my memory, elusive, on the edges.

"Sorry," she said, and she was breathless, too. "That was out of line."

"One hell of a birthday kiss," I panted.

"Try to sleep, Elsa." Her voice was quiet in the darkness.

"After that?" I scoffed, "I want you to kiss me again."

"You're overestimating my self-control."

"Which is tempting you more, my blood or my body?" I challenged.

She let out a soft, frustrated moan. "It's a tie." She grinned briefly, and then was serious again. "Now, why don't you stop pushing your luck and go to sleep?"

"Fine," I agreed, snuggling closer to her. I really did feel exhausted. It had been a long day in so many ways, yet I felt no sense of relief at its end. Almost as if something worse was coming tomorrow. It was a silly premonition—what could be worse than today? Just the shock catching up with me, no doubt.

Trying to be sneaky about it, I pressed my injured arm against her shoulder, so her cool skin would sooth the burning. It felt better at once.

I was halfway asleep, maybe more, when I realized what her kiss had reminded me of: last spring, when she'd had to leave me to throw Hans off my trail, Anna had kissed me goodbye, not knowing when—or if—we would see each other again. This kiss had the same almost painful edge for some reason I couldn't imagine. I shuddered into unconsciousness, as if I were already having a nightmare.