“Tessa,” he said. “I am alone.” The word “alone” came out broken, as if he could taste the bitterness of loss on his tongue and struggled to speak around it. “Jem?” she said. It was more than a question. Will said nothing; his voice seemed to have fled. He had thought to spirit her from this place before he told her about Jem, had imagined telling her somewhere safe, somewhere where there would be space and time to comfort her. He knew now he had been a fool to think it, to imagine that what he had lost would not be written all over his face. The remaining color drained from her skin; it was
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