They’ve seen endless cyclical changes. That’s one hell of a wave to keep riding and coming out on top.

Or even coming out with your sanity. I feel grief for what we had, I mourn the Paris in the springtime I never got to experience, the bustling London I didn’t get to explore and now never will. I rue the world that’s gone.

I could get lost in pining for the way things used to be.

Or I could adapt and learn to ride the changes like they do, with eagerness to see what the new day has in store and unquenchable lust for life, however it unfolds. I understand now why Ryodan stays so invested in his day-to-day world and keeps them all together. Everything else falls away except for the family you’re born into, choose, or make; the circle of love you’ll die to protect and keep near you. The only thing that keeps us rooted in the past is our refusal to embrace the present. I can almost see the old Dani flashing me a gamine grin and saying, Dude, you gotta hug it with both arms and legs and hold on tight! The present is all we’ve got. That’s why they call it a present!

Icy, fierce Jada is all that’s left of my Dani.

I’ve thought about that a lot on this ride. Trying to make peace with it, figure out how to move forward with her. Stop beating myself up for chasing her into the Hall of All Days, and wondering if I can reach what’s left of Dani inside, if anything is. I study her when I get the chance, searching for some trace of the teenager in her face, her posture, and finding none. I remember the last fight we had, when I pulled her hair and she bit me. I smile faintly, wondering if we’ll ever have such a silly fight again, hoping we might just because it would mean she was reachable. Yes, Alina was murdered. By a young girl who was forced to kill her. A girl who’d already fragmented to adapt, who was further fragmented intentionally by the one who should have saved her, protected her.

I should have seen what was going on with her but didn’t, blinded by my own pain. I unintentionally drove her further into the fragmentation. I imagine Dani might have known Alina, even liked her, and been forced to end her life. I really know nothing of the details. I wonder if she found my sister the same way she’d tracked me down near Trinity, driven by curiosity and loneliness. I wonder if the two of them talked. I’d like to see the rest of Alina’s journals one day. Jada must know where they are because Dani once surreptitiously sent me pages from them—the ones that told me how much my sister loved me. I’m glad Jada has the cuff of Cruce, although I’d prefer it myself. I don’t want her on the streets without a sword or a shield. I’d worry too much.

Jada thinks she’s the victory for Dani, but Ryodan’s right. Feeling nothing is being dead inside, especially for someone like Dani who used to feel everything so intensely. The only victory here would be Dani back in charge, strengthened by Jada’s traits. I wonder if Jada’s existence is part of what made Dani impulsive and reckless, as if the facets of her personality were neatly dissected down the middle: the adult survivor traits apportioned to one side, the unabashed child to the other. The more controlled Jada was, the wilder Dani could be.

All the anger I harbored is gone, leaving only a locked, barricaded door between us, with no keys in sight. I intend to hammer the hell out of that door. I’m not losing her when she’s right in front of me. But it’ll take a committed, well-thought-out campaign to breach the icy commando’s defenses and find the young woman within. I know part of the reason Ryodan insisted on bringing her along was to force Jada to be around Barrons and me, people Dani spent time with and cared about. If anything might stir emotion inside her, it’s me, good and bad.

Ryodan finishes filling the gas tank, opens the door, and gets back in.

“Ow! If you sit on me one more time.” I growl at him, “I’m going to kill you.”

“Good luck with that. Don’t fucking move every time I get out. You’re on my side of the seat again.”

“Watch out for my indent,” I say crossly.

“Hummer, Mac. Nothing causes indents. Except grenades.”

“I have several of those,” Jada says. “Persist with your pointless bickering, I’ll share one. Pin out.”

I ignore her. “I’m cramped. I needed to stretch.”

“So, get out when I do.”

“I’m afraid you’ll leave me behind since you can’t see me.”

“I’d leave you behind if I could see you.”

“Christ, would the two of you just shut up?” Dageus growls. “You’ve been at it for hours. I think I have a headache.”

“We’ve been sharing two freaking feet of space for a day and a freaking half,” I say sourly. “What do you expect?” I’m beginning to wonder just how long the Book plans to keep me invisible. I’m still enjoying the hell out of it but have no desire to remain unseen forever.

“How can you think you have a headache?” Drustan says irritably. “Either you do or you don’t.”

“I can’t bloody well think in the backseat, so how would I bloody well know? I drive. I don’t ride.”

Barrons laughs, and I remember him saying something similar once: Who’s driving this motorcycle and who’s in the sidecar? I don’t even own a bike with a pussy sidecar. He turns sharply and we begin our off-road ascent, slowly clambering over the rocky terrain.

“You used to ride horses,” Drustan says.

“I was bloody well controlling the bloody reins.”