I’m worse.

And I can never, ever let him know it.

In the distance, the island is lost to the darkness of the sea. But the moon still shines, its white light rippling across the water, guiding us toward the city gates. They stand open, and I walk with my brother toward the big archway in the city’s outer wall — its first and best line of defense. For a thousand years it has kept intruders away, but Jamie and I carry our problems with us.

An old playground lies down the beach. A rusty swing blows in the wind, and the merry-go-round stands silent, but I can hear a woman’s laugh and see my mother running through the sand, singing to the children who have long since grown up.

Hush, little princes, wait and see …

No one’s gonna know that you are me!

She laughs and chases a memory. Then, just as quickly, she is gone.

I’m not sure how long I stand there, lost in thought, but when I come back to reality, Jamie’s shoulder is touching mine.

“It’s weird,” my brother says, following my gaze. “Being here without her.”

“You don’t get used to it,” I tell him. He nods, then turns and starts walking toward the wall.

“Are you going to tell me what happened out there?”

“No.”

“You’ve got to talk to me, Gracie.”

“Really?” I ask. “Where is that written? Is that Adrian law or something?”

“No. It’s sibling law.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Really? Because it looks to me like someone has to save you from yourself. What happened out there?”

“What happened is that Spence kissed me. And Alexei didn’t like it.” I stop just inside the city gates and spin on him. “And judging by the punch you threw, neither did you.”

“You shouldn’t have wandered off alone.”

“News flash, Jamie: I am alone!” Technically, it’s not true. I have family here. Friends. It would crush Noah and Megan and Rosie if they heard me say such a thing. And yet it might also be the most truthful thing I’ve said in years. “I am always alone.”

I hate the way my voice cracks, but I can’t stop it, so I don’t even try.

“That’s not true, Gracie.”

“Oh, Jamie.” I shake my head. And in this moment, I pity him. I really do. “It is exactly the truth.” I start up Embassy Row, my feet carrying me faster now. He practically has to jog to keep up.

“You weren’t supposed to grow up, you know. I was supposed to have another ten or twenty years before I had to start punching guys who kissed you.” Jamie is trying to tease me now, to make me smile. “And you weren’t supposed to …”

“Remember,” I say flatly as I stop and spin. “I wasn’t supposed to remember. I was supposed to just keep thinking I was crazy. But I am crazy, aren’t I?” I want to laugh with the irony, but then the shadows move. For a split second, I glance behind Jamie, at the presence on the dark side of the street.

I am crazy, but the Scarred Man is real, I want to tell my brother.

And he’s standing right behind you.

For three years, Dominic lived in the shadows of my mind. I could point to him now, exhibit A that I am only partially insane. But I just smile and turn away from both of the overprotective alpha males who seem to watch my every move. Let Jamie believe what he wants to believe. It’s what I did for three years, after all.

When I appear in the kitchen the next morning, Jamie is already there. His T-shirt is drenched in sweat, and I don’t have to be told that he’s already run five miles on the beach. Maybe six. Or seven. Or ten. It doesn’t matter that his body is in a different time zone. He would have risen before the sun and pushed himself to his limit. It was all I could do to make myself brush my teeth before I stumbled downstairs.

Jamie studies me over the rim of his cup of coffee and smirks, so sure in his skin, so confident of his place in this world. “Are we going to talk about it?” he asks, and I roll my eyes. He doesn’t sound like Dad or Grandpa, not even Ms. Chancellor. He doesn’t even sound like himself.

“Did you talk to Spence about it? I’m dying to hear what he said. Did he tell you it was my fault? That I made it up?”

Jamie is silent, and it feels like an admission. I start to wonder if maybe Spence did say those things. If maybe Jamie believed him.

But then Jamie puts his cup on the counter and leans back. “If you must know, I didn’t ask him about it.”

“Why? Does that go against some sort of West Point code or something?”

“No. I would have asked, but he didn’t come home last night.”

I think about Spence, in a foreign country and left on some island, and wonder if Jamie is worried about his friend or if he’s too mad at him to care. Spence is a grown-up, after all. A West Point man. He can take care of himself, and Jamie knows it.

He should have known better than to hit on the likes of me.

“Jamie, I —”

“There you are!” Ms. Chancellor’s voice has the singsong quality that it gets when she’s up to something. She practically floats into the room. “Good morning,” she says. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jamie replies. “It felt good to be home.”

This isn’t our home, but Jamie is good at this — this impressing-the-grown-ups thing. It is maybe what he does best. And that, of course, is saying something.