“Outside,” he says, and pushes through us to the door. Carmel follows, and I crane my neck around to different windows, following their progress as they walk around the side of the house.

“Something complicated there,” Jestine says into my ear, and I jump. This place lets people creep too easily. “Will she be coming with us?”

“I think so. I hope so.”

“Then I hope they get everything sorted. The last thing we need is drama and angst and people making stupid decisions.” She crosses her arms and walks back into the kitchen to finish cleaning the remains of breakfast.

I should probably ask Jestine why that is, what we’re going up against, but Thomas and Carmel have disappeared from view. Carmel being here is spinning my head around. She’s almost surreal, an unexpected piece of Thunder Bay pasted into the picture. After what she said to me that day in my room, I thought she was gone for good. She’d made a choice, to have the life Thomas and I weren’t going to get. I was happy for her. But as I follow Jestine back to the kitchen, there’s a big ball of relief in my chest, and gladness too, that this thing I can’t get away from isn’t that easy to walk away from either.

Checking the windows, I can catch a glimpse of them through the westernmost one that looks into the back garden if I lean far enough to the left. The scene is pretty intense; all direct eye contact and open hands. But damn it. I can’t read lips.

“You’re like an old woman,” Jestine quips. “Wipe your nose print off the glass and help with the dishes.” She puts the sponge in my hand. “You wash. I’ll dry.”

We scrub in silence for a minute and the smirk grows deeper around her mouth. I suppose she thinks I’m trying to listen to what they’re saying.

“We should leave in the morning,” Jestine says. “It’s a long train ride and a long hike on foot. It’ll take two solid days of traveling.”

“Traveling to where, exactly?”

She holds her hand out for a plate. “There is no exactly. The Order doesn’t keep a dot on a map. It’s somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. The western Highlands, north of Loch Etive.”

“So you’ve been there before?” I take her silence as a yes. “Fill me in. What are we in for?”

“I don’t know. A lot of pines and maybe a couple of woodpeckers.”

Now she gets dodgy? Irritation creeps up my arms, starting in the hot dishwater and ending in my clenched jaw.

“I hate doing dishes,” I say. “And I hate the idea of being pulled around Scotland by someone I barely know. They’re going to test me. You can at least tell me how.”

Her face is a blend of surprised and impressed.

“Come on,” I say. “It’s pretty clear. Why else wouldn’t we just go with Gideon? So what is it? Are you not supposed to tell me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” she says, and tosses the towel onto the countertop. “You’re so transparent.” She leans in close, scrutinizing. “The challenge excites you. And so does the confidence of knowing you’re going to pass.”

“Cut the crap, Jestine.”

“There is no crap, Theseus Cassio. I can’t tell you, because I don’t know.” She turns away. “You’re not the only one being tested. We’re alike, you and me. I knew that we would be. I just didn’t know how much.”

* * *

Thomas and Carmel come back inside after an hour and find me slumped on the sofa in Gideon’s living room, flipping between the BBC 1 and BBC 2. They shuffle in and sit, Carmel beside me and Thomas in the chair. They look awkwardly, uncomfortably reconciled, a kind of made-up that hasn’t quite stuck. Carmel looks the most wrung out, but that could just be jet lag.

“So?” I ask. “Are we all one big happy family again?” They look at me sourly. It didn’t come out how I wanted.

“I think I’m on probation,” Carmel says. I glance at Thomas. He seems happy, but guarded. And that’s just about right. His trust was shaken. In my brain too, weird phrases whirl around. I want to cross my arms and say things like, “Don’t come back if you’re not going to stay!” and “If you think that nothing’s changed, you’re wrong.” But she’s probably heard all this stuff from Thomas already. I wasn’t the boyfriend. I don’t know why I feel like I should get the chance to yell at her too.

Jesus. I have become the thing they call the third wheel.

“Cas? Something wrong?” Thomas’s brow is knit.