"Yes, well, it's not as though you found out after we left home, is it?" Gansey knows, deep down, that Adam is right, that Ronan is right, that there was no good time to tell him, that he's become this thing even more fragile than Adam looks, even more fragile than Ronan's heart. He should stop, but admitting defeat has never been one of his strongest skills.

"It's not about doubt over what you will or won't do. It's that you didn't think I deserved to know." He rounds on them both, all wounded nobility in that stupid, impossible way he is. "And maybe my belief isn't perfect, but have you ever given it a thought? The worst part about dying of that plague was waking up and realizing that you'd all fallen apart, and that was when you knew I'd be back! Have you thought, really thought, about what you'd do if I don't? Maybe you'll save me from this prophesy and in three weeks I'll get stung by a stupid little wasp and--" he snaps his fingers, the sound a bright crack in the dark, "--that's it."

His hands go back to digging into his biceps. "If either of you--any of you--died and didn't come back, I don't know what I'd do. Yes, it was shitty. But it's not me dying that's the point here."