Map of Fates (The Conspiracy of Us 2)

I let him sleep for a second while I got the first-aid kit from the cabinet. I couldn’t figure out a good way to keep a bandage on his head, so I just sprayed some antibacterial stuff on the wound and nudged him with my knee. He blinked, looking around like he’d not only forgotten the conversation we’d just been having, but like he’d forgotten where he was, too.

“Now we figure out how to keep you awake for a few more hours,” I said wearily, handing him a towel for his head.

He made a face, but followed me into our suite, where Jack was sleeping soundly on the far side of the bed, a pillow pulled over his head. I planted myself in the middle again, and Stellan climbed in next to me. I watched Jack’s back rise and fall with his breath. As I watched, he twitched, mumbling something in his sleep. I put a hand on his shoulder and he relaxed, and we sat that way, swaying with the train, while Stellan flipped channels until he found what looked like Family Feud in French. We turned the sound on to just a whisper, and over the bump and rattle of the tracks, Stellan murmured translations of the winning answers to favorite snacks for a football match and vacation spots for retirees, and the fact that 53 percent of participants said French women started to dye their hair at age forty . . .

• • •

I woke up slowly, and immediately wanted to go back to sleep. I was absurdly cozy, pressed against a warm, broad chest, and the shaft of light when I half opened one eye told me it was still early. For the first time in a long time, though, I actually felt rested. I started to shift to look at my watch, but the arms around me pulled me back in tight. “Mmm, no,” he protested sleepily in my ear. “Comfortable.” And it was; the kind of comfortable where you’d be happy to stay in that semiconscious state forever. I nuzzled back into his arms.

And then all of a sudden, I was fully awake. That was not the soft British accent I might expect to hear first thing in the morning. My eyes fluttered open. It definitely wasn’t Jack, because Jack was asleep facing me, our fingers inches away from touching, like we’d been holding hands and they’d come apart in the night.

Suddenly, everything from the day and night before came rushing back.

I bolted upright, blinking the sleep out of my eyes, my contacts sticky and dry. “You fell asleep,” I whispered to Stellan.

He blinked, too, barely awake, looking as surprised as I was at the indent in the blankets where I’d just been curled against his chest. “Apparently we fell asleep.”

I looked guiltily at Jack. Last thing I remembered, we were watching game shows and my hand was on his back.

“Lucky for you, I’m not dead. You’re not very good at babysitting.” A small smile pulled at Stellan’s lips. “Pretty great at cuddling, though.”

“Shh,” I hissed. I felt my face heat up and shot another glance at Jack. His dark brows drew down, and his mouth twitched like he was talking to someone in a dream. Without making eye contact, I whispered, “I’m going to—” I gestured with my head and made my way into the hall outside our room.

It was later than I thought. The sun had already risen, and I made my way to the space between the cars, where there were large windows on the doors. We were speeding past a vineyard, and a whitewashed stone house sat on the top of a rise behind it, and then a field of sunflowers, bright yellow, stretched as far as I could see.

I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, brushing through the tangles with my fingers. I wasn’t sure whether it was a step forward or a step back that I’d been able to sleep at all after yesterday. What’s more, I think I’d slept the whole night straight through. I couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

So I’d just have to sleep sandwiched between them for the rest of my life. That wasn’t horribly weird and wrong or anything.

A few minutes later, I turned around to footsteps. Stellan was wearing his own clothes again, slim jeans and a T-shirt, dark enough to not show dried blood. I felt myself blush again, thinking about how much of the night I must have spent with his arms wrapped around me. I wondered how we’d ended up that way, whether one of us did it accidentally or whether we just migrated together while we slept, our unconscious minds giving in to the need to hold somebody. He paused when he noticed me, and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

He reached around me and hauled open the sliding door.

“Are you allowed to do that?” I backed up a few feet as the wind whipped past, like it could drag me right out the door. The sunflower fields had given way to a ravine, and the train sped along the edge of a cliff.

“Probably not.” Stellan tested his weight on one of the handholds at the door of the train, leaning out over the tracks so the wind pulled at his clothes, then leaned back in and lit a cigarette. He let a curl of smoke out of the corner of his mouth, and the breeze rushing past caught it and left not even a wisp.

I made a face at the cigarette, anyway, and he made a face back.

“You seem better,” I said. He was back to his old self, not soft and fuzzy around the edges like he’d been last night. “Have you checked on your head?”

He held his cigarette out the door and leaned over for me to look at it. I only had to part his hair and take a cursory glance to realize the cut was much smaller than it had been last night. “It’s healing really quickly. Weirdly quickly.”

He pushed his hair back into place. “Maybe it’s the magic skin thing. I guess I have always healed quickly. Never thought much about it.”

I would have been interested to know more about the “magic skin thing” if we had time. Maybe in the future. If Stellan was in my future at all, I reminded myself. In just a couple days, I’d know. We’d have the second bracelet, and hopefully have the way to the tomb. If all went well, I’d trade it to Alistair for my mom, and then . . . well, then I’d decide. Whether to stay and be part of the world’s most powerful secret society, or to get off the grid and make plans to stay off forever.

I leaned against the wall and played with my necklace. When I let go, my hands were smudged with black soot. I inspected the locket, and realized there was dust coming out of the holes in the pattern. I clicked it open.