I would laugh at myself if I had the breath to spare. It’s what I’ve always wanted, what I’ll never get.

My legs weaken, starved of blood and breath. The other beauties stream past me and I wheeze behind them, too breathless to call for help, even to swear. The gap between us widens. They round a corner ahead and I’m deciding whether to limp faster or rest for a moment against this friendly-looking wall when I hear Charm’s voice say, “Everybody hold the fuck up. Where’s Zin?”

I lean against the wall, letting the chill of the stones seep through my T-shirt. A vast pair of boots appears in my vision. “Oh, hi Brunhilda. If that’s your … actual…” I have to pause mid-sentence to gulp air. I’m not a medical professional, but that seems like a not-great sign. “… name.”

“It is Brünhilt.” A hand settles on my shoulder, wide and warm. “May I?” It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak. Her voice is surprisingly high, like a hawk calling in the distance.

I’m pretty sure I nod because the next thing I feel is a pair of arms gathering me up and armor grating against my cheek. My body jars with every step but the pain is harmless, almost pleasant, compared to the ache in my chest. Bruises fade, after all.

Charm’s worried face swims above me. “Zin?”

“It’s fine,” I assure her, but my breath whistles weirdly in my throat. She doesn’t look comforted.

Clanging sounds echo up the corridor, booted feet and armored legs moving closer. “Let’s just go, okay?” I don’t hear Charm’s answer, but Brünhilt starts moving again. I try to look up once or twice to see how close the guards are and whether we’re going fast enough, but everything jounces and rattles and hurts so I give up, lolling against Brünhilt instead. There’s a soupy, suffocating lethargy spreading from my extremities, inching up my limbs, tugging me toward sleep.

I tell myself a story to stay awake. Once upon a time there was a princess cursed to sleep for a hundred years.

I open my eyes and catch the blurred gleam of Primrose’s hair as she leads us up the winding tower steps, her spine stiff and her crown high, a princess refusing to go gently into her own good night.

Once upon a time she asked for help.

And I answered her. All of us did. We followed the lonely threads of our stories across the vast nothing of the universe and found our way here, to this tower, to save at least one princess from her curse. I’ve always resented people for trying to save me, but maybe this is how it works, maybe we save one another.

I become aware that Brünhilt has stopped climbing just before Charm says, tentatively, “Zin?” I try to respond but succeed only in making a sound like a plunger in a clogged sink. “Was there supposed to be something up here? Like, say, a spinning wheel?” Charm’s voice is strung tight.