“Where's Jonas been?” Twist asked as he stared at the terrible hand of cards he was holding in the gaslight. “I haven't seen him in a while.”

  “He's been in his cabin all day,” Arabel said, rearranging her own cards.

  “I raise you two,” Zayle said. He tossed a pair of dry beans into the pile on the floor between them all. “You in, Cap?” he asked, looking to Captain Davis, who sat to his left.

  “No, I fold,” Captain Davis said, putting his cards down and looking to Twist.

  “Jonas usually seeks me out by now,” Twist said as he tossed two more of his beans into the pile. “Is something wrong with him?”

  “I call,” Arabel said, tossing in her own bet. “Zayle, what have you got?”

  “Pair of fours,” he said with a shrug, turning his cards for the others to see.

  “You bet on a pair of fours?” Captain Davis scoffed. “That was a silly bet.”

  “I'm a silly person,” Zayle said as if Captain Davis should have known.

  “I've got three tens,” Arabel said brightly. “Twist?”

  “What's wrong with Jonas?” Twist asked, tossing his useless collection of random cards into the pile of beans.

  “Nothing. He's fine,” Arabel said, collecting her prize while Zayle reshuffled the cards.

  “Then what's wrong, in general?” he asked. “Something's going on here.”

  “Maybe he just wants a little space,” Zayle offered, not looking at Twist.

  “What's wrong with your nephew?” Twist asked Captain Davis.

  “Where would you like me to start?” he asked back with a chuckle.

  Twist leaned his head back against the wall. “This is why I don't like people.”

  “He's just worried about you,” Arabel said, taking her turn to deal. “He's staying away because he doesn't want to stress your Sight.”

  “He said he felt something strange when you passed out in the palace,” Captain Davis offered as he re-ordered his cards. “He thinks he might have caused part of the problem.”

  “But if he hadn't been there, I wouldn't have gotten out of the vision,” Twist said. “I followed him out.”

  “See?” Arabel said. “Everything's fine.”

  “And I'm the one with a skewed vision of reality?” Twist asked sharply. Arabel shot him a quiet, but warning look.

  “Just leave him,” Zayle said, pointing to the new hand of cards that lay untouched at Twist's feet. “Jonas will be fine. He always is.”

  “I'm going to talk to him,” Twist said, halfway to getting up.

  “No, sit down,” Arabel said, reaching out to block him. Twist stopped short before her hand, still on one knee.

  “Don't worry about him, Twist,” Captain Davis said. “Worry about yourself.”

  “I'm no better off if he thinks he did something to hurt me,” Twist said. “If none of you are going to talk with him, then I will.”

  “He doesn't want to talk with any of us,” Arabel said, her face bitter. “He's alone because he wants to be.”

  “We've lived with him before, you know,” Zayle said. “This is the only way to deal with him when he gets in a mood.”

  Twist shook his head. “That man is starved for compassion. I don't have to touch him to know that. He doesn't want to look weak, and so he lashes out. It's what wounded characters always do in novels. But that doesn't mean that this is what he wants.”

  “This isn't a novel. It's real life, Twist,” Arabel said, more sharply than Twist had expected. “What makes you think you know my brother better than I do?”

  “Because I used to do the same things,” Twist said. “I finally just gave up on people entirely. Neither of us can get close to anyone.” The moment the words left his mouth, Twist felt the echo of their meaning with a solid concussion.

  The others all paused to look at him, while shifting thoughts played behind their eyes.

  “If you'll excuse me,” Twist said when the others made no obvious response. He got to his feet, with no resistance this time, and left the room.

  It was easy to find Jonas as Twist walked down the halls, following the buzzing sensation at the back of his neck. More than before, he found the feeling strangely comforting. He stopped outside one of the cabin doors and reached up to knock, but the door opened before he could. Jonas stood inside, his eyes covered with his black lenses and his hand still on the door.

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  “You shouldn't be here,” he said coldly.

  “I'm fine, damn whatever you say.”

  “Stay away from me,” Jonas said, pushing the door closed again. Twist glared at the door.

  “If I'd wanted to stay perfectly safe and unharmed, I never would have left home!” Twist yelled, as loudly as his small voice would allow.

  “Go away!” came Jonas's voice through the closed door.

  Twist leaned his back against the opposite wall and slid down to sit on the floor. He waited silently for long minutes, his eyes closed as the buzz wandered around the base of his skull like a trapped alley cat. Eventually, Jonas's door opened slightly.

  “What is wrong with you?” Jonas asked through the crack.

  “Stop it,” Twist said flatly.

  “I'm not the one stalking you!” Jonas snapped.

  “Stop blaming yourself for everything. It's not your fault.”

  “Get the hell out of my head,” Jonas said, dark and deadly, as he opened the door a little wider to lean out menacingly.

  “You first,” Twist said with a smile, rubbing at his neck.

  “What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?” Jonas asked, sounding fatigued.

  Twist got back to his feet and stared directly into the black goggles. “Mean it.”

  Jonas didn't move, staring back sightlessly for a long moment. “Remind me not to play poker with you,” he muttered.

  “Actually, we're in the middle of a game right now,” Twist said, nodding to his cabin. “Care to stop torturing yourself and join us?”

  “Look,” Jonas said, pointing a finger at Twist's nose, “I got close to you, the buzz got worse, something gave, and then you hit the ground and didn't wake up for a day. We have no idea what's happening, or what it's doing to either of us, and you're already pushing your Sight too hard as it is!”

  “Fine,” Twist said, holding his arms out. “Have a look then. I'll close my eyes. You tell me if being in your presence is killing me.”

  “Don't be an idiot,” Jonas said, shaking his head.

  “Stop being so scared of yourself,” Twist snapped.

  “Keep that up and I'll touch you, all right,” Jonas said, brandishing a fist.

  “Look at me,” Twist said, closing his eyes.

  It took another moment before Jonas gave an exasperated sigh. An instant later, Twist felt a noticeable increase in the electric tension at the back of his neck. He had to focus hard to keep his eyes closed and to keep his hands at his sides. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to reach out, to look into Jonas's opened eyes. The knowledge that Jonas must have been feeling the same thing did little to calm him.

  “You're not fine,” Jonas said finally, as the buzz in Twist's neck died down slightly and the compulsions fell quiet. “You're mentally and physically exhausted.”

  “Is that all?” Twist asked, chancing a glance up. Jonas's goggles were back over his eyes, and he was leaning against the door frame like he needed it.

  “That, and someday,” he said, smiling lightly, “you're going to go somewhere tropical and you will simply love lychee.”

  “What?”

  “It's a kind of fruit,” Jonas said. “Little white things in a hard red shell. I like them too.”

  “What?” Twist asked again.

  “You think I only see people's future when I look in their eyes?” Jonas asked back. “I can see random bits from the future whenever I look at anyone. I can only see your death if I look in your eyes.”

  Twist stared at him until the enormity of the implications fully sank in. “Oh my God.”

  “Ah, so I still have some secrets from you, then?” Jonas asked back with a grin.

  “Well, did you see any point in the future when this buzz is going to kill either of us?” Twist asked, trying to shake off the cold dread.

  “No.”

  “And is it obviously harming me now?”

  “No,” Jonas said, shifting slightly.

  “Then are you going to continue blaming yourself for whatever madness happened to me in the palace?”

  Jonas looked up at him through the black lenses. “I would if you'd let me, you pushy little twit.”

  Twist shook his head. “Too damned bad,” he said with a note of satisfaction. He took a heavy breath, feeling the strain of standing begin to weigh on him. “I'm going to sit down again.” He took two steps away, felt the buzz ease again, and looked back. “Are you coming?”

  Jonas made a show of being inconvenienced, but he followed after Twist with the tension of a hidden smile at the edges of his cool expression. When the two of them returned to Twist's cabin together, the others looked up at them in stunned silence.

  “Told you,” Twist muttered to Arabel, taking up his place against the wall again.

  “You're a magical being, Twist,” Zayle said, still wide-eyed as Jonas sat beside Twist.

  “Who won the last round?” Twist asked as Captain Davis began to deal the cards out once again. Jonas grabbed a handful of dried beans from the sack to the side of the circle.

  “I did,” Arabel said brightly.

  “I know she's cheating, I just don't know how,” Captain Davis said.

  “That's hardly fair,” Arabel said with a pout. “Maybe I'm just a lucky person.”

  “We'll see about that,” Jonas said, pulling his goggles up to sit on his brow as he looked over his cards. Glancing from the side, Twist saw the faintest glimmer of blue light dance in the color of his eyes.

  “Am I the only one not cheating?” Twist asked.

  “You're not cheating?” Zayle asked, aghast. “How do you expect to win?”

  “Sorry, I forgot where I was,” Twist muttered, shaking his head. “I'm playing poker with nice pirates. I don't know what I was thinking.”

  “We're not bloody pirates!” Captain Davis said.

  “Not today, especially,” Arabel added.

  Jonas laughed quietly to himself.

  “Yes, yes,” Twist said with a dismissive wave. “So who's going to start the bet?”