My hands flare, and I drop to my knees, burying my face in my hot palms. I sob, praying as reverently as possible for The Lady to help. My hands throb, and a roaring heat cloaks them.

“Lady, I beg you! I beg you to help! You made it so that I may not touch him, so I plead that you do so for me! Heal him! Please!” I sprawl on the floor. “I beg of you! Guard, protect him from death!” Tears drip into my mouth. My eyes are swollen, and my head pounds. Is this truly the end for the boy who led me into the aviary?

My palms rage. Now each sob is followed by a stabbing pain in my chest. I hear the Minea speak.

‘There is a reason for that feeling inside of you. The one that calls out, desperate for your attention, your obedience.’

I stop crying and wipe my face with the back of my hand. I swallow hard and raise myself off the floor. My fists clench. I’m out of options, out of places to run and people to hide behind. If the Minea’s words are true, if this feeling is more than only a feeling, let it prove itself now. I lean back, point my face at the ceiling, and inhale a shaky breath. I exhale steadily and release my fists, stretching my fingers wide.

I listen.

The calling tells me to move. Go to him.

I take a step, and the pain in my chest instantly eases a notch. Closer. I shuffle my way to Braizen until our feet almost touch. Reach out to him.

As I move my palms toward him, their seething heat transforms into something bright and refreshing, like stepping out of a cold room into the sun’s warmth. With my eyes closed, I press my palms out harder. I can feel him. I can feel his arms around my waist as if we’re dancing together again. I hear his laugh and see his light blue eyes pierce mine.

“Idalia.” I can hear his voice, too. That disastrous voice that ruins me each time it says my name.

“What are you doing? How are you doing this?”

My eyes snap open, and I realize I’m not only hearing him inside my head.

He’s staring up at me, wide-eyed. Golden streams of light pour from my palms and wrap around his shoulder. My mouth drops open as I watch the illuminated ribbon work its way in and out of his wound. His face returns to its normal color, and the sweat that coats him dries.

I drop my hands, and the gleaming strands uncoil, then extinguish like a candle flame. I collapse to the floor. I look up. His shoulder—it’s completely healed.

He touches it lightly with his opposite hand. Then, his head snaps down. His eyes glow with speculation.

“What are you?”