‘She heard Shackleton planning it all. What more proof does she need that we’re not the ones they should be fighting?’ I watched her scrape the last few dregs of porridge from the bottom of her bowl. We’d only been up for an hour or so, but I’d already lost count of how many times we’d circled around to that question. ‘Maybe she thinks we’re working with Shackleton,’ I said. ‘Right,’ said Jordan. ‘That would be why he keeps trying to kill us.’ We were sitting on one of the springy old couches in the living area where we’d spent the night. We hadn’t seen Kara or Soren yet that morning, but there was a little kitchen at the other end of the room, and we’d helped ourselves to some breakfast. Dad was over on the beanbag, making up for lost sleep. We’d decided to take turns keeping watch through the night, just in case. Dad had volunteered for the first shift, and I’d woken up ten hours later to find him still sitting there, watching the door. ‘I think maybe proof isn’t the problem,’ I said.
