“Will’s voice dropped. “Everyone makes mistakes, Jem.”“Yes,” said Jem. “You just make more of them than most people.”“I —”“You hurt everyone,” said Jem. “Everyone whose life you touch.”“Not you,” Will whispered. “I hurt everyone but you. I never meant tohurt you.”Jem put his hands up, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Will —”“You can’t never forgive me,” Will said in disbelief, hearing thepanic tinging his own voice. “I’d be —”“Alone?” Jem lowered his hand, but he was smiling now, crookedly. “Andwhose fault is that?”

“Jem?" he said. 'It is you, James?''Who else?' Jem's voice.”

“Jem shook his head. "You bit de Quincey" he said. "You fool. He's a VAMPIRE""I had no choice" said Will " He was choking me""I know" Jem said. " But really Will, AGAIN?”

“I should have known what you would do,” Jem said in a low voice. “I always know what you will do. I should have known you would put your hands into the fire.”“And I should have known you would throw that packet away,” said Will, without rancor. “It was—it was a madly noble thing to do. I understand why you did it.”“I was thinking of Tessa.” Jem drew his knees up and rested his chin on them, then laughed softly. “Madly noble. Isn’t that meant to be your area of expertise? Suddenly I am the one who does ridiculous things and you tell me to stop?”“God,” said Will. “When did we change places?”The firelight played over Jem’s face and hair as he shook his head. “It is a very strange thing, to be in love,” he said. “It changes you.”Will looked down at Jem, and what he felt, more than jealousy, more than anything else, was a wistful desire to commiserate with his best friend, to speak of the feelings he held in his heart. For were they not the same feelings? Did they not love the same way, the same person? But, “I wish you wouldn’t risk yourself,” was all he said.Jem stood up. “I have always wished that about you.”Will raised his eyes, so drowsy with sleep and the tiredness that came with healing runes that he could see Jem only as a haloed figure of light. “Are you going?”“Yes, to sleep.” Jem touched his fingers lightly to Will’s healing hands. “Let yourself rest, Will.”

“Ah,” said a voice from the doorway, “having your annual ‘everyone thinks Will is a lunatic’ meeting, are you? “It’s biannual,” said Jem. “And no, this is not that meeting.”

“Will bit at his lip. This was the last time Jem, as Jem, might ever touch him. The sharp memory went through him like a knife—of years of Jem’s light tap on his shoulder, his hand reaching to help Will up when he fell, Jem holding him back when he was furious, Will’s own hands on Jem’s thin shoulders as Jem coughed blood into his shirt. “Listen to me. I am leaving, but I am living. I will not be gone from you entirely, Will. When you fight now, I will be still by you. When you walk in the world, I will be the light at your side, the ground steady under your feet, the force that drives the sword in your hand. We are bound, beyond the oath. The Marks did not change that. The oath did not change that. It merely gave words to something that existed already.”