Fifer laughed. “It’s not my lawn, but you’re welcome.” They strayed to the water’s edge, feeling the cool waves splash their feet. “Florence told me that the remake of the obliterate spell turned out to be even more powerful than the one Alex used years ago. That seems a bit scary.”

“Yeah, it was pretty shocking to see how destructive it is,” Thisbe admitted. “Even for me.” She patted her interior vest pocket, to which she’d added a flap and button to keep its contents extra protected. “I’m hoping we never need to use them.”

Fifer agreed. Then, to get a better sense of Thisbe’s thoughts on timing, she ventured a few questions. “I was wondering, now that we’ve got the majority of the dissenters back on good behavior, if you’d like Florence to start training our Artiméan team in any specific way. What would be most helpful? And… um, what sort of timeline are we looking at?”

“Hmm,” Thisbe said, sensing something in Fifer’s question and throwing a curious glance her way. “I guess Florence’s usual training would be best, along with more combat training.”

“Kaylee could help with that,” said Fifer. She kept her eyes down, but she could feel her shoulders tensing.

Thisbe nodded, but she didn’t take her measured gaze off Fifer. “I’ve been turning this over and over in my head, and I’m still not sure how we’re going to take the Revinir down. Or… when would be the best time for you to come to our aid. Rohan and Maiven and I have been discussing it. We haven’t come to any hard conclusions yet, but we absolutely don’t want to go at her half-prepared. We want the full force all at once. It’s the only way to beat her.”

“Oh, okay,” Fifer said, feeling a bit of relief.

“I’m not convinced that’ll be anytime in the next few weeks. But once we’re ready, it’ll have to be go time.”

Fifer blew out a silent breath. “Got it. We’ll… get ourselves prepared.”

Thisbe paused, then laughed. “We sound so old, planning attacks like this.”

Fifer glanced at her sister. “I think we were forced to grow up fast. Just like our brothers.”

Thisbe stopped laughing. She stepped over a rock along the shore. “Do you still miss him?”

“Who? Alex?”

“Yeah.”

“I do,” Fifer said. “A lot. We really got to be friends there at the end.”

Thisbe was quiet for a moment. “I’m glad for you.”

A pang of sorrow pierced through Fifer’s chest. “Thanks. But I’m sad for you. You must still be really conflicted about it.”

Thisbe took in a sharp breath. “I am. I’m not sure I’ll ever get past my weird feelings about everything. It was…” She blew out the breath. “Good grief, it was so hard.”

“Because…?”

“Because…” Tears sprang to Thisbe’s eyes. “Because I don’t know how to grieve for someone I didn’t… really… like.”

“Oh, Thisbe,” said Fifer, turning to her.

“I… have so much guilt about it. And I’m jealous of you, in a strange way. Not because I want to hurt like you’re hurting—obviously no one wants that. But because I guess I wanted to have the thing that came before the hurt. The love that caused the pain.” She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t have that. And I feel terrible about it. Like I missed out on something that I’ll never be able to get back.”