by Bree Barton
“The bird stops moving entirely,” Mia said. “Because if the predator thinks she’s already dead, he might not want her. He might find a live kill somewhere else. And even if he doesn’t—even if she can’t escape—the bird’s body emits a natural elixir that numbs the pain. If she dies, at least she isn’t suffering.”
Pilar felt like she was breaking open. She was tired of fighting back tears. Tired of fighting herself.
Mia took her hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve only made it worse.”
“No,” Pilar said. “You didn’t.”
New truths were seeping into the cracks.
She wasn’t a coward.
She didn’t deserve what happened.
It wasn’t her fault.
The knot of shame and rage in Pilar’s chest began to uncoil. Little by little. Bit by bit.
Pilar wiped her wet nose on her sleeve. Someday she would laugh when she told this story. My sister, she’d say, once tried to comfort me by telling me about dead birds.
But for now, she squeezed Mia’s hand.
They stayed like that for a while. Side by side, hands clasped. They no longer knew if they were standing or floating, dreaming or awake.
“We haven’t escaped her,” Pilar said, breaking the silence. “All I did was buy us time. Your sister will be waiting the moment we get out.”
“She’s your sister, too.”
“I keep forgetting.”
Sharp pain shot up Mia’s arm. She winced, letting Pilar’s hand fall. The frostflower on her wrist had begun to burn, a scald that went deeper than her skin. She felt shock at the sensation, followed by a wash of gratitude for being back in her body.
Then the truth sank into her belly like a snow plum pit.
“My mark is fyre ink,” she said.
Pilar shrugged. “I’d take that off your list of worries. It’s not like you knew.”
But with the knowledge of what her mark had cost—what suffering those children had endured—Mia felt the heaviness sink back onto her shoulders. The cloak was still there. Had she really thought she could escape it?
The pain began to ebb out of her arm. Mia and Pilar found themselves back on solid ground, standing in a forest, loam and pine needles spongy underfoot.
Up ahead, they saw Karri.
The princess lay face up on a red patch of snow. Eyes open. Exactly how they’d left her.
“You see her, too?” Mia whispered.
“I see her everywhere,” said Pilar.
Mia didn’t want to go any closer, but when Pilar started to walk forward, she followed. Karri’s eyes were terrifyingly empty. Two blank blue holes.
Quin’s face appeared unbidden in Mia’s mind. The pain inscribed in his eyes. What Angelyne had done to him was unforgivable. She had robbed him of his choice.
But Mia had robbed him of his sister first.
“I tried to tell myself you were the one to blame,” she confessed. “But it was my fault. I’m the one who stopped her heart.”
Pilar shook her head. “No. I shot the arrow. All you did was try and save her life.”
“Zaga lied to us both.”
They stared at Karri’s body, silence feeding on their bones.
“I don’t know if I can forgive myself,” Mia said finally.
“Maybe we start by forgiving each other.”
Pilar crouched. She hugged her knees.
“What was it like, being dead?”
“I only remember the waking. I’d give anything to forget.” Mia knelt on the snow. “There’ve been times over the last few months where I wished I were still dead.”
Pilar looked up sharply. “You don’t mean that, do you?”
“Sometimes.”
“You really can’t feel anything?”
“Here I can.” Mia gestured around them. “In this place I seem to be able to feel everything. But out there it all goes away.”
Pilar remembered something Angelyne had said. “What about the elixir?”
“I’m scared to try it. Scared I’ll get my hopes up and it won’t work.”
“Then we’ll find something that does.”
Pilar turned back to Karri. It hurt to see the princess like this. Exposed to the elements. Alone.
“You can’t die, Mia.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I only just started to like you.”
Mia laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I mean it. You didn’t fight your way out of that box just to end up inside another.”
Mia’s smile faded. “I’m not a fighter like you are.”
“It doesn’t have to be with fists. You’re stubborn and infuriating and brilliant and strong.”
The words bubbled up from a place Pilar hadn’t known existed.
“When we first met I didn’t understand why you would ever sacrifice yourself for your sister. But I never had one, until now. You’re a lot less broken than you think, Mia Rose.”
“I wish it were that simple.” Mia faltered. “I said I’d never get out of the box, but it’s more complicated. It’s like you said: the box is inside me. I’m afraid it always will be.”
“Then we fight it.”
“And if I’m too tired to keep fighting?”
Pilar looked her in the eye.
“Then I’ll fight for you. Until you’re strong enough to fight again.”
Tears sprang to Mia’s eyes. She’d spent her whole life caring for her little sister. But now, for the first time, Mia was the little sister. And Pilar was offering to fight for her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Pilar scooped a handful of dirt. Molded it into a little mound. Her fingers were freezing, but on the inside she felt warmer than she had in a long time.
She nodded toward Karri’s body.
“Help me bury her?” Pilar said.
Mia leaned forward. Cupped soft dirt in both palms.
Their eyes met, and an understanding passed between them. They had both suffered. They each bore the scars of a history they could never unwrite.
What happened to them would never be all right. But they would be. They had survived the worst thing—and they were no longer alone.
Pilar Zorastín d’Aqila and Mia Morwynna Rose had found each other.
They were very much alive.
Chapter 53
Terribly Susceptible
PILAR WOKE FACEDOWN WITH cave dust on her tongue. Head pounding. Ears ringing.
A few feet away, Mia dragged herself to her knees. Could she still feel things? She pinched her arm and felt nothing. Whatever she’d experienced in her reflections—the feeling of coming back to her own body—wasn’t real!
“Welcome back.” Angelyne’s voice dripped with vitriol. “Your pleasant little interlude did give me time to retrieve our mutual friend.”
When Pilar turned, her stomach seized.
Quin.
“He was wandering around the palace,” Angelyne said, “looking for your Renderer friend, Mi, so he could come back and save you, Pilar.” She yawned. “Let me skip to my central thesis: no one is coming to save you.”
“Let them go, Angelyne.”
Quin’s voice was soft. His head was bowed, hands clasped behind his back like they were bound, even though they weren’t. He looked tired. Older than Pilar remembered.
“You can make anyone suffer,” he said. “As I know from personal experience. You’ve been in my head for months. You took everyone I’d ever loved away from me, or could have loved, if I hadn’t royally screwed that up.”
He looked right at Pilar, his eyes so clear and green they broke her heart. In that moment she would have forgiven him anything. Every lie, every betrayal—none of it was his fault. They were both players in a play they hadn’t written. Pilar wanted to start over. To begin again.
Of course now it was too late.
Quin turned to Angelyne.
“I know you could enthrall me with a single look. And I know that won
’t make you happy, not really, because you know it’s false. You’re lonely. You want someone to choose to love you. But how can they, if you’ve robbed them of their choice?”
He drew himself up tall.
“That’s why I am making you an offer. I will come back with you of my own volition. I’ll make a choice to stay by your side. I swear on my sister’s grave. But don’t take Pilar.” He took a breath. “And don’t take Mia. Take me.”
That was when Pilar saw it. His right fist clenched tight.
When Quin shifted his fingers, she glimpsed the black stone. He’d dug it out of Dove’s ruined face.
Pilar’s heart lifted. She wanted to laugh, dance, kiss him. Gallant Prince Quin, still pickpocketing the dead.
When she saw a flash of red in his left fist, her pulse cranked up another notch.
He had the wren, too.
Quin had a plan. He was going to get them out.
“Oh, my dear husband.” Angelyne sighed. “What a noble proclamation. I really have missed you. Always so eager to please, so pliant. But don’t you know the truth, my love?”
Pilar glanced at Quin, who frowned. Something was wrong.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “The truth?”
“The truth about the moonstone, of course! I destroyed it a long time ago. I’m far beyond that kind of thing now.”
“That—that can’t be,” he stammered. “I destroyed it.”
“You have a weak mind, darling. A weak heart. Pure, but ineffectual. You are terribly susceptible to the power of suggestion.”
Quin’s face turned chalk white.
“What are you saying?”
“Your stone was a fake.” Angelyne smiled. “I was never enthralling you at all.”
Chapter 54
Left to Burn
QUIN WAS STRICKEN. MIA watched his face twist into a series of impossible emotions, each more painful than the last. He was trembling. For a moment she thought he was afraid.
Then the confusion smoldered down to rage. Mia saw something in his eyes that scared her. Bitterness. Hate.
He opened his fists, revealing the black stone in one hand, the ruby wren in the other.
“It’s past time for the Illuminations,” he said. “We don’t want to keep the good people of Luumia waiting.”
“Careful,” Angelyne hissed. “You have no idea what you’re holding, or how powerful it is.”
When she stepped forward, Quin hoisted the stones high.
“And now I do,” he said. “You can’t enkindle me, can you? Not as long as I have these. Wonder what other havoc they can wreak?”
“Quin,” Pilar said, her voice tight. “Listen to me. I know you’re angry. I would be too. But you don’t have to do things the way she does. Don’t let her inside your head.”
“Apparently she never was,” he growled.
“Either way,” Mia said, inching forward, “you’re stronger than she is.”
His laugh was bitter. “When have you ever seen me strong?”
“You’re better than strong,” Pilar said. The three sisters formed a triangle now, edging closer. “You’re good.”
“Ah, yes. Good.”
“You said you wanted to make a choice,” Mia said. “You still can.”
Quin wavered. She saw something gentle in his eyes. An opening.
“You’re right,” he said. “I can.”
He slammed the two stones together.
After that, things happened fast.
A crack echoed through the cave, swallowed by a ravenous howl. Scarlet fire bloomed between Quin’s palms. An arc of light leapt from his hands and struck the closest wall, scattering into a thousand words. They spewed into the air, forming layers of text stacked so thick they were unreadable.
The walls began to ooze like candle wax. A spear of red light spiraled toward Mia. She ducked just in time.
Angelyne cried out. The fire had struck her instead.
“Stop!” Pilar shouted, charging toward Quin. The burning sphere in his hands was growing. She had to stop him. He was hurting himself. Hurting all of them.
“Don’t do this,” she begged.
She reached out a hand—and he recoiled. He tucked the fire under one arm, protecting it.
The answer thudded into her head, so simple she couldn’t believe it.
Use magic.
Magic was just another thing she’d run from, a piece of her past she hadn’t wanted to face. Of course she was wary of a power that could be so easily abused.
Zaga had wielded magic to hurt people. But Pilar could choose differently.
She could use magic as a gift.
She had no intention of enthralling Quin. He’d survived enough of that to last a lifetime.
But she had a knack for unblooding. Always had. Always would.
Pilar stepped forward, palms outstretched. She could feel magic pouring through her fingers. She’d forgotten how good it felt. How powerful.
“I will never hurt you, Quin. I promise.”
He grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward him. The boldness of the move surprised her. In the split second she was off balance, he swiped his foot behind her ankle, sent her crashing to the ground.
She felt a flash of pride. She’d taught him that.
Pilar stared up at him, searching his face for the Quin she knew. But his eyes were ruthless. Cold. She couldn’t find him.
He lifted the fire over his head. Ready to burn her alive.
“Sorry,” he said. “You’re already dead.”
“Don’t!” Mia screamed.
She leapt in front of Pilar and slammed her hands down around Quin’s, sealing in the fire. He jerked and bucked. She held on tight.
Mia’s skin was burning. Red tongues of flame licked the gaps between her knuckles. All she felt was numb.
Which meant she had the advantage.
The back of Mia’s hands blistered into wet, red boils. The wound grew whiter and whiter until she realized she was staring at naked bone. Months had passed since she’d seen an anatomy plate, but she knew the names by heart: carpals clustered at the wrist, knobby metacarpals locked into the phalanges.
She didn’t let go. She had to neutralize the fire, bring it back into balance. She closed her eyes and thought of Nell—her good-natured patience, her genuine wisdom. Mia summoned Stone, Fire’s counter element. She conjured uzoolion, the cool blue gem from Refúj. She imagined the moonstone as it once was: a container for her mother’s healing magic, Wynna’s best and gentlest gift.
The fire in Quin’s hands weakened.
And then suddenly Mia wasn’t holding onto anything.
Angelyne had shoved her aside.
“Go,” Angie said. “Take Pilar and leave before I change my mind.”
The ground began to quake. Mia staggered back, the sound of shrieking metal so loud she clapped her hands over her ears. A booming crack echoed, then another. The cave was fracturing around them. Shards of rock and ice plummeted from overhead.
A deep fissure had opened at their feet. The crack widened swiftly, splitting the cave in two: Mia and Pilar on one side, Quin and Angelyne on the other.
Mia saw Angie and Quin advancing toward one another, their faces dark with fury. The two people Mia would have given anything in her power to protect. She had risked her health, her life, her sanity to save first her sister, then the boy she loved.
Maybe it was time to love herself.
“Hurry!” Pilar shouted, running toward the mouth of the cave.
Mia lunged after her. She had lost one sister—she wasn’t going to lose another.
Together they barreled toward the Descending Room. But there they stopped short. The cage had come loose; it lay useless on its side in the corridor, the bronze softening from the heat.
“Shit!” Pilar yelled. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“We’ll climb up the cables,” Mia assured her. “It’s how I came down.”
“They’ll be too hot!”
With an eerie sense of calm, Mia leaned over the ledge. She surveyed the shaft. Nodded.
“Luckily,” she said, “that won’t be a problem.”
She extended one skinless hand and wrapped her bony fingers around the cable.
“I don’t have any flesh left to burn.”
Chapter 55
The Shadowess
CHAOS HAD ERUPTED IN Valavïk.
When Pilar and Mia tore out of the palace—no small feat, seeing as how the walls kept caving in around them—they were nearly trampled by hordes of Jyöltide revelers running toward the port.
The Illuminations had splattered the night sky, igniting many of the peat roofs and wood buildings in the surrounding village. Thick plumes of smoke shot up on every side.
“Breathe,” Pilar gasped. “I need to breathe.”
They doubled over on the palace steps, chests heaving. Pilar squinted up at the moon.
Typical. All she’d wanted was to get to the Snow Queen’s palace on the last night of Jyöl. To stand on the steps beneath the Weeping Moon. And there she was.
She began to laugh hysterically. Once she’d started, she couldn’t stop.
“What’s funny?” Mia asked.
“Nothing,” Pilar said, panting with laughter. “Everything.”
All that time she’d thought she was looking for her father. But what she’d really needed was a family. A sister who would stand by her. The kind of sister who would drag you up out of a dungeon with skeleton hands.
“We made it,” Mia said, cradling her charred hands to her chest. “We got out.” She’d already begun regrowing her skin and tissue, balancing the elements the way Nell taught her.
Another throng of panicked people careened toward them.
“Harbor?” Pilar said.
“Harbor,” Mia agreed. “I know where there’s a boat.”
Zai’s boat was gone.
Mia stood on the quay, blinking in numb disbelief. It wasn’t just Zai’s boat—most of the wharf was empty.
“What was that about a boat?” Pilar said.
Mia’s heart sank. They knew no one in Valavïk. They had nowhere to run.
“Good Jyöl!” A warm, husky voice wafted toward them. “Or not so good Jyöl, really, if we’re being honest.”