Surely, you want the Draconians to stay on Zai just as much as the Lunists do?” I reasoned.

Navan stepped forward. “This is your home planet. If saving your people the pain of abandoning it means you have to give Freya the cure, then that has to be worth it,” he said, leaning Bashrik up against one of the boulders.

“Apparently, I’m not allowed to say my piece,” Cambien said sarcastically, silencing the pair of us. We shot each other a glance of irritation as he continued. “I do want all Draconians to remain on Zai—of course I do—but I want them to stay without having to reverse the effects of the opaleine.”

“Why, though? What have you got against reversing it, if it means saving your planet?” Navan interjected, evidently unable to help himself.

Cambien smirked. “Well, I would tell you, if you would let me finish,” he snapped.

“Sorry. Go on,” Navan murmured.

“To reverse the effects of the opaleine, I have to gain the stone’s forgiveness,” he began. “Now, that means releasing all the coldbloods who have fallen victim to the plague in the past, whose petrified bodies still remain on Zai.”

Navan shook his head. “Let me guess, you can’t bring yourself to do that because of what my people did? Haven’t they paid enough penance?”

“Let him finish,” Angie said to Navan, surprising me. A glimmer of understanding moved across her face. There was more to Cambien’s refusal than met the eye.

“Thank you,” Cambien remarked. “No, coldblood, it’s not because I can’t bring myself to free them. In fact, it’s more about what they might do if I were to free them. Believe me, I have thought about it often enough. These coldbloods, undoubtedly sent mad after so long spent in their rocky incarceration, may escape and attack both the Pyros and the Lunists. For our sake, we will defend ourselves, but the Looneys will refuse to. A catastrophic loss of life would ensue, and I will not risk that,” he explained, his words irritatingly logical.

“Why don’t you just kill them as you free them?” Bashrik croaked, his face contorted in pain.

Cambien rolled his eyes. “You two coldbloods really haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you? We don’t kill; we only punish,” he replied. “Even if I wanted to deal that kind of blow to your people, I wouldn’t be able to. If I kill the coldbloods myself, then the opaleine will be permanently corrupted, as decreed by our religious texts. There will be no way to reverse it after I cross that line. It is the only doctrine I believe in, after seeing the proof: if one Draconian takes a life with his own hand, the stone punishes us all. There are no exceptions.”

As much as I liked a scientific explanation for things, the opaleine seemed to go above and beyond my comprehension. This planet was a little mystical, and their treasured stone was no exception.

For several minutes, nobody said anything as Cambien’s words sank in. I’d convinced myself he was keeping the reversal secret for his own selfish reasons, but I had been wrong. Cambien was doing it for the sake of his people. After all, they’d suffered enough. They didn’t need mass murder to put the icing on the terrible cake of what they’d endured.

I thought about the Vysantheans who had been here before, the ones who had been infected by the virus but had managed to get away from Zai. According to Navan, they’d been taken to a quarantine facility somewhere out in space—the same facility that Brisha wanted us to take Navan and Bashrik to, if they contracted the plague during our mission. Well, that definitely wasn’t happening! None of us wanted to drop Bashrik off at some clinical outpost he might never leave. Although, it got me thinking—was the fate of those escaped coldbloods any better than that of these poor souls, trapped in opaleine on foreign soil?

It pained me to admit it, but Pandora had been right not to leave the ship. If we’d just insisted that we keep our hazmat suits on, we’d have avoided Bashrik falling ill. Then again, if we’d done that, we wouldn’t be standing here now. Honestly, what choice had we had?

It was Navan who broke the silence. “If you cure Bashrik, I will kill every revived coldblood myself,” he whispered.

I gaped at him, both amazed and chilled that he would offer to kill so many of his own kind. Then again, Bashrik’s life was at stake, and Navan had always despised his fellow Vysantheans, seeming to dissociate his mind from the act whenever killing was required. Still, that village was just a small sample. There had to be mining camps all over the place, filled with the same frozen statues—there were at least forty or so coldbloods in the crater alone, encased in opaleine prisons.

Cambien seemed just as surprised. “You would do that?”

Navan nodded. “I would, if you swear to cure Bashrik immediately.”

“As glorious as that proposal might be, the truth is, I don’t actually know how to reverse the plague before it has fully taken hold,” he admitted. “If you wish for me to cure this Bashrik fellow, you’ll have to allow him to become a statue first. Only then can I attempt to reverse the process.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” Navan growled.

Cambien shrugged. “Afraid not. If you want me to heal him, you must trust me. I am Draconian, which your people find utterly distasteful, but you cannot doubt our honesty as a race,” he said defiantly.

“And you can’t doubt the suspicious nature of ours,” Navan remarked bitterly.

Cambien sighed. “As a sign of my unyielding benevolence, I will show you something no outsider gets to see,” he said cryptically. “Come, follow me.” He jumped from his rock and strode off through the village.

“Do you need a hand with him?” Angie asked as Navan pulled Bashrik’s arm across his shoulder and hauled him after Cambien.

“No, I’ve got him. But thanks,” Navan said, smiling.

We took off after Cambien, who was weaving through the village, his shimmering red scales the only thing that helped pick him out of the crowd. Five minutes later, he came to a halt in the shadow of the volcano, gesturing for us to stop beside him. A wall of pure opaleine towered above us, marbling the side of Mount Kusuburi. It seemed to be a natural pocket of the stuff. Maybe that was why the Pyros had built their village here.

Instead of the surface being flat, hexagonal, bee-like hives protruded from the rockface at sporadic intervals. From within, a low buzzing sound bristled through the air, sending shivers up my spine.

“Don’t get too close to the hives,” Cambien warned, holding out his arm to block us from advancing. “The insects were created here—the ones that spread the coldblood plague.”

“Created?” Lauren asked, her eyes wide.

“They aren’t real insects, like the ones you might find in the jungles that cover most of our planet,” Cambien said, his gaze fixed on Lauren. “These insects are forged using nanotechnology of my own innovation.”

“Nanotechnology?” Navan said coldly. “That sort of technology, at this level of intricacy, should be beyond your species.”

Cambien flashed him a sour look. “And who told you that? Your precious Vysanthean drivel? All those libraries, and barely a single one containing anything that wasn’t written by one of your people. It doesn’t exactly make for unbiased reading, does it?”

“Actually, I’ve read several books written by native species, and I’ve never heard of Draconians using nanotechnology,” Lauren agreed. “Not that there was much information to go on, anyway.”

“Precisely. Why would we let our scientific studies get into the hands of our enemies? We locked our science books away where the coldbloods couldn’t get their frosty mitts on them.” Cambien chuckled. “We might be behind in some areas, but a few of us like to keep up to date. I happen to be one of them.”

Bashrik looked up, his eyes foggy. “One of those bugs bit me!” he mumbled, his words coming out strange, as though he were trying to speak with a mouthful of cotton balls. My stomach dropped. The plague was spreading. Soon enough, Bashrik would be one of those frozen statues. We just had to trust that Cambien could heal him when that happened.

Cambien grimaced. “There have been one or two glitches,” he admitted. “Sometimes, the insects go offline and can’t find their way back to the hive. After that, they tend to go a bit rogue. It hasn’t been a problem, with no coldbloods on the planet, but when you arrived—well, you’d have been magnetic to them,” he said with a hint of apology in his voice.

“Like bees around nectar,” I mused, much to Cambien’s confusion. Knowing there were wayward nano-creatures out there, I realized just how lucky Navan was to have avoided being bitten at the same time as Bashrik. Maybe the hot springs had kept him safe, masking his coldblood magnetism with the scent and heat of the milky water.

“Is it even a virus, then?” Lauren pressed, going into interrogation mode.

Cambien looked at her thoughtfully. “It is a virus of sorts, in that it enters the bloodstream of the victim and infects their cells. However, it is unique in that it only affects the cells of the epidermis and the muscles, creating a stone casing where skin used to be and immobilizing joints,” he explained, the pride in his voice irking me. “As for your other coldblood friend, he needs to be bitten in order to be infected.”

“It can’t pass from person to person?” Navan asked.

“No, it cannot,” Cambien replied. “An individual must be bitten by one of my insects, although I can program them to target specific people, if the mood takes me.” A hint of a warning laced his words, which Navan was wise enough to notice, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Angie sighed. “So much for pacifism, eh?”

“The Looneys might be passive, but we Pyros are not,” he replied with a cold chuckle. “If you think about tricking us, or endangering us further, I will not hesitate to unleash more of my insects upon you, coldblood. Moreover, I will not hesitate to design a special strain to infect you three.” He leveled his gaze at me, Angie, and Lauren. Dread snaked through my veins.

“I have made a promise to you. I intend to keep it,” Navan said firmly, though it did nothing to quell my fears. It would only take one rogue insect and a sudden change in Cambien’s mood, and all of us would be stuck here with no way out.

With that ominous warning hanging in the air, Cambien led us away from the hives toward a set of stairs that burrowed below the earth, cut into the very rock itself. The heat was sweltering as we descended, though there were ventilation shafts overhead. We were getting closer to the center of the volcano.

The staircase gave way to a long tunnel, which opened into a cavernous chamber. The room was brightly lit, with lamps dangling from the ceiling. Projections rose from pieces of machinery fitted into the walls, golden fractures of light rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Tucked against the walls were a series of beds, half of them empty. Draconians slept beneath the sheets of some, and an unmistakable scent hovered in the air—disinfectant. We were in a hospital of some sort, buried beneath the volcano.

“It will only be a matter of hours before the plague takes full effect on your friend Bashrik,” Cambien explained, moving over to a curtained area in the far corner. “If you would be so kind as to lay him down here. He might as well be comfortable while you wait,” he said with alarming cheeriness, pointing to the bed.

Awkwardly, Navan sat the stiff-limbed Bashrik down on the edge of the bed, maneuvering his legs and arms onto the mattress. Fully flat on his back, poor Bashrik looked like a nutcracker who’d been left in a box, his arms straight down by his sides, his legs unmoving, his neck frozen in one position. Already, his skin was changing color, little marbled patches showing through. I wasn’t sure I could bear to see the rest. My stomach wasn’t strong enough.

“And you’ll give him back to us, just as he was?” Angie asked anxiously, perching on the side of the bed and resting her hand on Bashrik’s arm.

Cambien shrugged. “Sometimes the revived coldbloods return with damaged memories, but they can usually function well enough,” he said brightly.

“I was wondering that—how come you’ve revived coldbloods in the past?” Lauren asked.

“We wanted to see if we could bring them back, to restore the corrupted opaleine in a safe manner. It does restore a solitary piece, but it does not reverse the entire corruption,” he explained. “Plus, it becomes an extraordinary hassle, considering the state their minds are in. I have lost count of the number of patients who have run off, never to be seen again. All of them, in fact.”

“Is that going to happen to Bashrik?” Angie looked at Cambien with desperate eyes.

“He has only been infected for a short period of time, so he should not have the same level of mental disruption,” he replied thoughtfully. “Saying that, it might be best to say your goodbyes now, in case you friend forgets who you are when he wakes up again. That is more likely to happen.”

Bashrik looked up in horror. “What? Why didn’t you say that before?”

Cambien smirked. “It is a common side effect, coldblood. This is not an exact science.”

“That’s the small print you should have led with, you—” Angie cried, but broke off, clearly holding back from saying anything she might regret. After all, Cambien held Bashrik’s life in his hands.

“Will I remember my friends?” Bashrik rasped.

“Who can say? As I mentioned, it is not an exact science,” Cambien replied casually.

Angie stood in his way. “Well, I want an exact answer!”

Ignoring her completely, Cambien brushed past. “If there are going to be tears, I will make myself scarce,” he said, casting a glance over his shoulder at Angie. “But, never fear, I will still be your shoulder to cry on, should you need it. I am excellent at comforting sad damsels.”

Angie’s eyes narrowed. “Well, then you’re barking up the wrong tree, lizard-breath!” she snapped. “I’m no damsel, and I won’t be needing your shoulder, or any other part of you, thank you very much!” Apparently, she had decided to let loose with the insults, after all.

Cambien sighed. “I can see the emotion is already too much for you. Worry not, I will be back,” he said, before heading quickly down the central aisle between the beds and disappearing out of the hospital via the rock-hewn tunnel.

Still reeling from shock, we all turned to look at Bashrik, who was staring straight up at the ceiling. I didn’t know what to say. Although we’d been around each other for a while, I realized I didn’t know all that much about him. And now, I might never get the chance.

“Why don’t we each take a moment alone with Bashrik?” Navan suggested, pointing at the opposite end of the cavernous chamber, where a waiting room had been arranged. It wasn’t much, but it was far enough away to give us some privacy. Solemnly, we all nodded. “I’d like to go first,” he added.

The three of us humans made our way toward the waiting room and sat down on the slate benches. My eyes trailed toward Navan and his brother, who were just visible through a slim partition in the curtains. Even from this distance, we could all hear some of what was being said, though we made a show of pretending not to listen in. Navan’s shoulders were hunched, his hand gripping Bashrik’s arm, his head lowered in sorrow. I heard him speak about their parents, and the word “Naya” popped up from time to time, alongside a mention of Sarrask, and a bunch of names I didn’t recognize. A short while later, he got up and came over to where we were sitting.

“Lauren, do you want to go next?” he asked. With a nod, she got to her feet and went behind the curtains, where Bashrik lay, returning several minutes later, her eyes wet with tears. She sat back down without saying a word, snuffling softly.

“I’ll go next,” I volunteered, knowing Angie would want to be last. She smiled at me, letting me know I’d done the right thing.

As I reached the bed, I sat down awkwardly on the edge of it, opening my mouth to speak. However, before I could say a word, Bashrik’s voice halted me in my tracks.

“You asked me… what’s holding me back… with Angie,” he rasped.

I nodded, not wanting to break the moment.

“I don’t want to start something that can’t last,” he continued sadly. “Angie will return… to Earth, at some point. I will stay on Vysanthe. It’s my home, even if it no longer is… for Navan. I think Angie feels… the same way about us. She knows it would be… borrowed time. She deserves more than that.”

Tears pricked my eyes. By all reasoning, Navan and I shouldn’t have been together, and we definitely shouldn’t have been in love. But the universe had found a way to bring us into each other’s lives, and I was determined not to let go of a second of the time we had together. In love, there was no such thing as borrowed time, only the gift of the time we had been given.

“That’s ridiculous, Bashrik. And that isn’t your decision to make,” I insisted, dropping the volume of my words, aware that the others could almost hear. “You need to give Angie the choice. If you really feel any kind of affection for her, you’ll give her that. Embrace what you might have, and do it now, while you still have the chance. Tell her what’s in your heart. It doesn’t matter if it lasts a few days or a few years; it’ll have been worth the risk.”

Bashrik looked at me strangely. “The risk is too great,” he murmured. “Send for her… before it’s too late,” he added, straining through his words.

Scared he might fade before Angie had her chance to speak to him, I jumped up and beckoned for her to take her turn. With a worried expression, her eyes rimmed with red, she jogged forward and passed me with a loud sniffle, before reaching Bashrik’s bedside.

From where I sat in the waiting room, I couldn’t help eavesdropping on the pair. I knew it was wrong of me, but I itched to know what was happening between them. All of us watched the two of them through a narrow gap in the curtains.

“Your face is all splotchy,” Bashrik teased, though there was a hint of sadness in his voice.

“It is not,” Angie replied defiantly. “It’s heat rash from the sun.”

He tried to smile. “I never thought I’d get you to cry over me.”

“You haven’t—I have allergies,” Angie sniffled.

“Nice try, Ange. If my arms weren’t frozen solid… I’d reach up and wipe those tears away,” he murmured.

A loud sob wracked her chest as she clung to his hands. “Maybe you’ll wake up and not remember who I am, but… I hope you’ll remember a girl, in that head of yours somewhere, and I hope you’ll remember how you made her feel,” she wept. “In all my life, I’ve never met someone more annoying, and frustrating, and utterly baffling… and fallen so hard for them, regardless. All that time we spent on the alchemy lab… They were some of the happiest moments I’ve ever had. I looked forward to seeing you every day, and even when we fought—which was all the time—I couldn’t stop my heart beating that little bit faster when you walked into the room.”

She choked back another sob. “Seeing you like this, it makes me wish I’d said something sooner. Life is so short, and if you make it through this, and still know who I am, I don’t think I want to waste another moment of it without you,” she admitted, her voice rising to a wail, her shoulders jolting with an aftershock of sobs.

From our vantage point, it was hard to gauge his reaction. I was holding my breath, terrified he wasn’t going to say anything in return. That would just about devastate Angie, no matter what she might say to the contrary.

“I promise… I won’t let us waste another moment,” he said, his voice strained but confident. “I don’t know what I would do… if you weren’t by my side anymore. I… adore you, Angie. I won’t make you wait another second for me to—”

He didn’t get to say anything else, as his mouth froze shut. Patches of stone appeared all over his body, covering his skin in a crust of thick opaleine, which would soon take over his entire being, locking his mind inside.

Shuddering, I turned to Navan and Lauren. “I’ll go and find Cambien. It’s time for him to put his money where his mouth is,” I said quietly, unable to take the sight of Bashrik’s transformation. I didn’t want to see him like that, and I didn’t think he’d want me to, either.

“Do you want me to come?” Navan asked, squeezing my hand.

I shook my head. “No, you stay with your brother. He needs you more than I do,” I said with a sad smile.

I made my way to the tunnel leading up to the surface, my mind focused on one thing—the cure.