Briony lowered her gaze, staring at her tightly sped hands. "I heard it''s still pretty backward over there."


    "It is," Stewart replied. "Most young people leave the ind to find work elsewhere. The people who stay are mostly older-middle-aged or elderly."


    Briony took a deep breath, summoning her courage. "Do you know if my mother''s all right?"


    Stewart hesitated. "It''s hard to say for now."


    She turned sharply to look at him, every nerve in her body suddenly on edge. "What does that mean?"


    Just then, a flight attendant appeared with a mug of warm milk.


    Stewart took the mug and held it out to Briony. "Have some milk, try to get some sleep."


    But thest thing Briony wanted right now was to drink milk and fall asleep.


    "Stewart, you can be honest with me. I''m going to have to face the truth eventually," she insisted.


    He sighed. "You''ll find out soon enough. There''s no point in rushing it."


    He nudged the milk closer. "Just drink it and try to rest."


    Briony nced at the milk, her expression cool. “I''m not thirsty. Take it away."


    Stewart arched an eyebrow. "Worried I poisoned it?"


    She shook her head. "No, but the thought makes me sick. I can''t drink it." Realizing he had no intention of telling her about her mother, Briony turned away


    and stared out the window, making it clear the conversation was over.


    Stewart watched her for a moment, then handed the mug back to the flight attendant.


    "Bring her a nket and a sleep mask."


    "Yes, sir." The flight attendant offered the items to Briony.


    Briony epted them with a polite, quiet "Thank you."


    Stewart helped her recline the seat into a t position.


    Suppressing her anger, Brionyy down with her back to him, pulled the nket over herself, and slipped on the mask, determined to shut him out.


    Stewart stared at the back of her head for a few seconds, then finally closed his eyes and leaned back.


    Outside, the night sky was calm. The flight passed without incident.


    By six-thirty the next morning, the private jetnded at Southern Vale Docks.


    Briony hadn''t slept well at all. Her night was a jumble of restless, nonsensical dreams.


    When she woke, a dull ache throbbed behind her eyes.


    Stepping off the ne, a gust of morning wind hit her, making the headache re painfully.


    She squinted, gritted her teeth, and, with her brow furrowed, followed behind Stewart and the others at a steady pace.


    Their car-a ck van-was already waiting near the tarmac.


    Carl hurried forward to open the door. Stewart reached the car first, then turned to look at Briony.


    In the morning light, her face looked almost ghostly pale, her lips drained of color.


    Stewart''s brow creased with concern. As she approached, he held out a hand. "Are you feeling okay?"


    Briony shot him a frosty nce, ignoring his hand. "I never feel okay when I''m around you." She gripped the door herself and climbed into the van.


    Stewart let his hand drop, his eyes narrowing slightly.


    Carl, witnessing the exchange, gave an awkward little cough.


    Stewart shot him a sidelong look.


    Quickly, Carl looked away, pretending to be interested in the sky.


    Stewart turned away and got into the van.


    Carl let out a silent sigh of relief, closed the door, and took the front passenger seat.


    The ck van pulled away, headed for Southern Vale Airport.