Oblivious to Fifer’s mental war and mixed feelings, Thisbe worried about Rohan, wondering if he was okay. Or even alive. Her stomach flipped and twisted painfully whenever she thought about him. She felt helpless. Surely he’d use his seek spell if he needed her. But what if he was trying to, and he just couldn’t do it? Even if he did manage to perform the spell, by the time Thisbe could get there, it would most likely be too late—and she wasn’t in any position to help him until she completed her training. These things kept her tossing and turning at night in her bed across the room from Fifer. In contrast, Fifer seemed to sleep like a log and have no cares except for planning the party. How was it possible that one twin could be so carefree when the other carried around the weight of the world?

Shortly after Thisbe had arrived safely back in Artimé, she’d looked at the gift Rohan had given her. It was a piece of paper-thin bark from a birch tree, folded in half. When Thisbe opened it, a diorama of a cave popped up from it, made from tiny sticks and curls of birch bark. Thisbe identified the all-too-familiar scene immediately. Cutouts of three people were sitting on logs inside the pop-up cave—Thisbe, Rohan, and Sky. A fire was burning, and there was a fish on a spit above it. Rohan had used berries and stones to add striking red, purple, and brown colors to it. It was beautiful, though smeared a bit. Definitely unlike any kind of art she’d ever seen in Artimé. Upon opening it and studying the intricacies within, Thisbe had begged Florence for a preserve spell component so it wouldn’t tear or get wrecked. Thisbe pulled out the diorama whenever she felt like nobody understood her. It was comforting to be reminded that there was one person who did.

•  •  •

Little changed as more days passed. It still felt strange to be back in Artimé. Things were different. And the wedge between the twins continued to grow.

Added to that, Thisbe didn’t like the looks from dissenters and others who kept asking about what had happened to her. They weren’t exactly unkind, but Thisbe didn’t really know these people very well. All the skeptical eyes on her made her uncomfortable. One day Frieda Stubbs stopped Thisbe coming out of the dining hall.

“Have you killed anyone lately?” asked Frieda.

“Wh-what?” Thisbe stammered. “No! Of course not.”