Fortunately the next two days pass faster than I thought they would, though that's possibly because my brain is constantly cycling, going over and over and over everything that I learned in Records.

I find myself watching Cole more closely, but she never gives anything away.

What was she crying about that day in the shower?

Fletcher seems like a reasonable guess, but I don't know for sure.

I don't understand the mechanics of their . . . can I call it a relationship? But I do know that there is a serious imbalance of power between them – Cole doesn't have any. She does what Fletcher wants, and I'm pretty sure that, on some level, she's afraid of him.

Even someone like Cole doesn't deserve that, but what am I supposed to do?

I can't approach her without revealing what I know, which I can't do because I don't trust her not to blab to Fletcher.

So I say nothing.

None of the Handlers approach me or show any kind of suspicion, so I assume that the missing photo either hasn't been noticed yet, or that it has but the Handlers think that they just misplaced it somehow.

Not being able to see Roan at all is the darkest spot of those two days, but halfway through the first day, something happens that's almost as dark.

Gavin is back.

When I see him at lunch, sitting with his friends like nothing has happened, my heart gives a horrible lurch. The black eye he gave me is fading, but I haven't forgotten it.

My skin prickles with anger.

As far as I'm concerned, he wasn't in Isolation for nearly long enough.

But there's nothing I can do about it; I just have to try not to let it affect me too much. There are bigger things to worry about.

When the third day finally rolls around, I make my way down to the fence as fast as I can without looking suspicious. Roan is already waiting for me, and for the first time he's already on my side of the fence.

I throw myself into his arms.

I learn that Roan has reported everything back Beyond, but that they haven't yet decided on the next step.

Fletcher's relationship with Cole is not enough to draw attention to the CC, especially when there's no hard evidence, but they are very interested in everything else I found out, and Rosie is doing some digging into what it might mean. I'm not entirely clear what Roan means by digging – apparently it has something to do with computers, but when he tried to explain it to me it was like he was speaking a different language.

For the time being it seems that there's nothing more I can do to help – not that there was, anyway. I can't risk trying to get back into Records, and there wasn't anything definitive in there anyway.

So for the next couple of weeks, I forget about the Trials, about everything I've learned, and lose myself in Roan. We meet every day in our secret spot. Sometimes it rains, but Roan brings an umbrella and props it under the trees so we can huddle beneath it, and the raindrops sound like thousands of heartbeats all around us.

He brings me a different type of chocolate every day, and I love every single one.

He tells me about living in London, about the busy bustle of the streets, and how he hates the Tube because sometimes it's so packed it gets hard to breathe. He tells me about watching the sun set from Westminster Bridge, about the way the light gilds the water of the Thames, and then he does something I never thought possible – he shows me pictures.

I see photos of the river, of the bridge, of the sun, of the ancient architecture that rubs shoulders with modern buildings. I see the rush of people on the streets, people from every walk of life. I see shops and cafes and parks and statues and museums, and all the things that I have been denied all my life.

He shows me London through a camera on his phone, and I devour every photo, but I'm still hungry for more, so he shows me the world.

I see waterfalls, cascading in frothing torrents over sheer cliffs, and undulating deserts tracked by camels, and snow-capped mountains, so impossibly huge I almost can't believe they're real. I see stark canyons, and rushing rivers, and sprawling icy tundras, and intricate cave systems, and forests where the trees grow so tall they're almost like mountains themselves. I see meadows of wildflowers, and steamy jungles, and the impossible deep blue of the ocean.

And everywhere, in every photo, there is my sky.

I learn about the world, and I learn about Roan.

He tells me about schools on the outside, and his experiences there. He tells me how he loved subjects like History but hated Maths with a passion. He tells me how he met Rosie when she transferred to his school when they were fifteen, and bonded over a mutual interest in social justice. He tells me about family holidays, and how, unlike his friends, he never enjoyed them because his parents seemed to want him to entertain himself the whole time. He shows me pictures of those holidays, of himself as a young boy, and with each photo it feels like he's giving me another tiny piece of his heart.

I may only have known him for a short while, but I know him better than I've ever known anyone.

And I learn him in other ways too.

I learn that when I kiss his throat it makes him shiver, and that I quite like the roughness when he skips a day shaving. I'm fascinated with the shape of his mouth when he speaks. I love the way the sun shoots gold through his hair.

I learn the shape of his body, the way his muscles feel beneath my fingertips, so hard compared to the softness of his mouth, the way that his eyes look so much like my sky that I think I could fall forever into them.

He is my sky. I could look at him every day for the rest of my life, and each time I'll learn something new, something beautiful.

I learn my body too, in ways that I never knew before. I learn that I become light and air beneath his touch, that the blissful brush of his tongue against mine transforms my whole body into something shining, that the feel of his hands mapping new parts of my skin makes my veins run with pure sunshine. There are stars in my heart.

I want to give him the sun.

I want to catch every star in the sky and arrange them in his hair.

I want to hold the moon for him like he did in my dream.

I didn't think it was possible to feel this much for one person, to feel as if they are burning at the very centre of the world, but that's what Roan is to me.

He has brought me to life.

And sometimes that scares me.

I have no idea what the future will hold, but time before the Trials is steadily ticking away. Whether I pass or whether I fail, there's no knowing what shape my life will take. I believe in Roan's determination to free me and the others, but I'm also not blind to the realities of this world.

Yes, there are people who oppose the CC and the cruelty of the punishing Seconds, but there are many, many more who either support it or turn a blind eye to it because it doesn't affect them. I have to brace myself for the fact that Roan might not actually be able to help me.

If that happens, Beyond will fight on, for the rights of all the Seconds still in the CC, as well as all those who will one day come there, but the awful reality is that if I am taken away from here, I will be separated from Roan.

If I don't know where I'm going, then I won't be able to tell him.

That thought alone is like a knife to my heart, but I cannot ignore it. I cannot pretend that, no matter how much I want it, I might not actually have a future with Roan.

The thought of losing him makes me feel like I'm made of ice and stone, tearing open a hole inside me that feels like a storm, and if it hits I'm not sure I'll be strong enough to weather it.

Sometimes the strength of my feelings scares me. It's all so big and so powerful that it becomes almost overwhelming, but at the same time I wouldn't change it for anything.

I've grown so used to having him all to myself, that I've forgotten he has friends and colleagues on the outside.

So it comes as a complete shock one day when I go to meet him, and find that he's not alone.

There's a girl with him.