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I saw a Sunrunner out on patrol one day, but so far we’ve steered clear of them. Even if we share a mutual enemy, it doesn’t mean the Sunrunners are looking for allies.
    There are rules here—rules reinforced by large, threatening posters pasted to poles and buildings. As we pass through the streets, moving toward the grey market, the notices warn us:
    SOLAR HOURS FROM
    8 RESOLVED DAYLIGHT HOURS
    TO
    7 RESOLVED DAYLIGHT HOURS
     
    PATROLS CEASE AT
    7:15 RESOLVED DAYLIGHT HOURS
     
    HEAVY CURTAINS, SALLY PORTS, AND REINFORCED FRAMING REQUIRED FOR ALL SHELTERS AND PLACES OF BUSINESS
    The posters disappear as the road narrows, the pavement cracks and shatters, and the street-side food stalls are replaced with dimly lit storefronts—the kind that don’t have signs. We’re nearing the grey market. The rules aren’t enforced here, but it’s as strictly controlled by the Sunrunners as the rest of the Icebox.
    We pass a man begging on the sidewalk with a sign that reads: REFUGEE. NO FAMILY. PLEASE HELP. Jost navigates me around him before I can react.
    There are refugees every few feet in the main blocks of the Icebox. I haven’t gotten used to seeing them yet. Even the poor in Arras had meager rations. I want to stop and ask these people what they were running from that was worse than being cold and hungry on the street.
    But I already know the answer.
    The thing that bothers me is that I can’t help them—and Jost and Erik won’t even let me try.
    Erik is ahead of us, not bothering to slow his pace, but a block later he stops and turns to face us. “Look, I’ve got a good thing going with this guy. But he’s a bit paranoid. He’s already commented on my Guild paraphernalia, so—”
    “You want us to stay outside,” I finish for him. Most of our funds thus far have come from pawning the watches, tech, and even some of the clothes we had on us when we escaped from Arras, but I’m still clinging to my digifile, although it’s run out of power. I pull it from my pocket and offer it to him. “Here, take this. It’s probably worth something.”
    “No,” Erik says quickly. “We should hold on to it.”
    “Why? It doesn’t work down here,” I say as I slide it back into my pocket.
    “You never know. Besides, we wouldn’t want to pawn that without wiping its memory,” he explains.
    “Okay. Are you sure you don’t want us to tag along?” I ask.
    “I don’t want the guy to feel overwhelmed,” he says, sounding apologetic.
    I ignore the sorry tone. It’s growing thin: both boys avoiding each other, speaking through me, Jost’s anger, and Erik’s shame. I thought it had come to a head when I ripped us from Arras, choosing to take both of them with me, but the argument that ensued revealed how large a rift exists between the brothers. Erik’s shock at learning Jost has a daughter hasn’t dissipated yet.
    But none of this is getting us anywhere, and separating the two of them might be the opportunity I need to finally get a real conversation going with Jost. He clams up in Erik’s presence. We need a plan. We can’t tread water forever, waiting for the girl to find us.
    “Maybe Jost and I can duck into the fine-looking establishment back there.” I hitch my thumb toward the bar we’ve passed. I want to keep the mood light so he knows it’s okay to go.
    Beside me Jost takes a step back. It’s good to know I still have the ability to surprise him—or maybe
horrify
is the right word. Erik shakes his head, but for a moment his grim demeanor slips and he nearly smiles. He leans over, grabs my shoulder, and whispers, “Keep your eyes open. This is not a
nice
place.”
    As though the claustrophobic, anonymous corridor we’re in didn’t give that away.
    “You should smile more,” I whisper back. “Or you’ll lose your reputation.”
    “My reputation?”
    “As a charmer.”
    This does make him smile, and the icy anger in my chest thaws a little at the sight. “I can be anything I want here, Ad.