There was something inside him that was stronger than his memory, though. Something about that ancestor broth was trying to nudge him toward information about his family, and Dev desperately wanted to learn it. It was as if he needed something to grasp. Something to hold on to. Like his entire life had become literal when the Revinir had told him nobody cared about him and then tossed him out the window. Falling, falling, with no purpose and no good end.

He hadn’t realized it until recently. His whole life he’d gone about his daily tasks, working and suffering and hoping for a hot meal and some water once a day or so. There was nothing else to it other than looking on as the princess experienced the good life.

It had seemed like enough. It had been easy, back then, to ignore the tiny thoughts that something wasn’t quite right. That life could be different. Better. That he didn’t deserve what he’d been dealt. But ever since Fifer had said so bluntly that Shanti hadn’t been a good friend to him, Dev had been dying a little inside. He’d denied it over and over, in his dreams and his work and his precious quiet moments before drifting off to sleep. But Fifer’s words pounded louder and louder in his ears, like the sound of an approaching horse that had been spooked.

Dev realized and acknowledged that Fifer’s statement was true. Shanti, the only family Dev had ever known, hadn’t thought of him as a brother. Dev was her slave. The one she called on when she wanted something. The one who was punished for her wrongdoings. The one constantly scrambling to hang on to the security of a terrible life, because the alternative could be worse.

He felt so stupid about it now that the truth about Shanti had been revealed. But how was he to have known? He’d never experienced life differently until meeting the people from Artimé. Fifer and the rescue team had taken him in. And before that, Thisbe in the catacombs. Despite that she’d left him to rot with the Revinir, she’d taught him so much. He’d never felt true kindness from anyone until Thisbe had wrapped her arms around his sobbing shoulders in the catacombs kitchen. And then… he’d never felt comradeship, true brotherly companionship, until Drock the dark purple dragon had told him they were alike. And that he was worth saving.

Now, with the images of the palace and the gray man so present in his mind, Dev felt a connection to this place like he’d never felt anywhere in his life. It was so strong it made him ache. Tears from the pain of it—the pain of being alive yet feeling dead for his entire fourteen years—sprang to his eyes. He felt the ache build and wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to push it away.

Eventually he realized Astrid hadn’t answered his questions. She was continuing to stare at the palace, lost in her memories. “What happened here, Astrid?” he asked again, more gently now that he saw the pain in her eyes. “Will you tell me?”