A hush settled over the group. The wraiths looked shocked to learn this. I snuck a worried glance at my family.

“Go now and rest,” Emrys said. “What little daylight you have remaining should be used to prepare for tonight. Bread, meat, and water will appear in your room by magic every evening an hour before sundown. I am sure I will see some of you in the hall when darkness falls.”

I waited for the duke to rise first before I stood, hoping to remain hidden in the group. My father and the countess returned to us, and I had to remind myself to follow her instead of Papa.

Emrys’s gaze found me just before I left the hall.

With a chill, I realized he knew exactly who I was.

35

I chose a bedchamber across the corridor from Phelan’s, near the countess’s grand suite. The room was small but clean with a trio of windows, a bed with a feather mattress, a wardrobe in one corner, and a fireplace where enchanted flames burned. I unpacked my bag, eating one of my apples while I hung my clothes in the wardrobe. Who had once dwelled in this room? I wondered as I eventually sat on the edge of the bed. Blankets were folded at the foot of it, and a wolf pelt was draped over the middle.

I tried to judge the time of day by the slant of light on the floor and surmised it to be around one in the afternoon. And then I waged a war with myself: to fall asleep so I could last the night, or to resist, for fear of dreaming.

I eventually decided I would at least lie down. I stared at the ceiling for a while until my eyes felt heavy.

The bed was soft beneath me, the fur warm across my legs.

I drifted to sleep before I knew it.

I am in Endellion.

I walk the streets I guard with Phelan, and I don’t know what I look like—who I appear to be—until I pass by a gilded mirror in a storefront. I’m Anna in the reflection, and it surprises me. I lay my hand over my breast, covering my heart. The stone within me holds, emitting a heavy permanence. It has grown into my flesh; it cannot be removed, nor will it ever crack and crumble.

I suddenly feel lost, within myself and in the streets.

I turn, struggling to breathe, until I see Aaron Wolfe’s shop. I step inside and walk among the swords and axes and armor. I approach the leather weapon belt but it is something else that captures my attention. A slender dagger with a jeweled hilt. As I reach for it, Mr. Wolfe appears. Olivette’s father.

“How much for the dagger?” I ask him.

“The price is the secret you hold,” he replies.