“All right, all right,” he panted, lifting his hands. “Get off me, will you?”

Around us, the room became illuminated. Dust and cobwebs and the patina of memories. The shadows gave way to light.

Anna sighed. She turned into a wisp of smoke, victorious. The nightmare had slipped through my fingers.

And the curse remained to be broken.

36

I couldn’t stop shivering.

I fetched a fur-lined cloak from my bedroom and laced it tightly at my collar before I knocked on Olivette’s door. Exhaustion was heavy as a millstone on my shoulders; I waited for someone to answer. I could hear murmurs within the chamber, and then the lock was unbolted and Nura cracked the door.

“Anna?” she asked, glancing beyond me.

“It’s me,” I reassured her, and she welcomed me inside.

Olivette was sitting upright in bed. Phelan stood before one of the windows, framed by sunrise, and Mr. Wolfe was tending to the fire.

All of them looked at me when I entered. I stopped, feeling my vulnerability like a burn. I could hardly look Mr. Wolfe in the eye.

“How are you, Olivette?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

She held up a bandaged forearm. “I’ll be fine, Anna. It wasn’t bad.”

“It only required twenty-five stitches,” Nura said pointedly.

“And thank gods you could sew it up without a hitch,” Olivette replied, just as sharply. I sensed the two of them had quarreled, but it was centered on the fact that Nura had nearly witnessed her partner’s dismemberment.

“Is it safe to assume you did not break the dream, Anna?” asked Mr. Wolfe.

“Unfortunately. I failed.” I felt Phelan’s stare from across the chamber, but I didn’t lift my eyes to him.

“You didn’t fail, Anna!” Olivette cried.

Ah, sweet Olivette, who only saw the good in people. I smiled at her, but it sat on my face like a wince.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked, eager to wash away the stain of my dream.

“Can you brew a pot of tea from thin air?” Olivette asked, and I laughed.

“How I wish.” The meat, bread, and water once a day was fine, I supposed, but I couldn’t deny that I craved a good stout tea.

“That’s what I want the moment I leave this mountain,” Olivette stated with a sigh. “A pot of tea with cream and honey. And some blueberry scones.”

I caught the worried expression that crossed Nura’s face as she gazed at Olivette. We might be on the mountain for a while.

“Miss Neven?” Mr. Wolfe gently drew my attention. “May I speak to you in private for a moment?”

I nodded, but my throat was narrow as I followed Olivette’s father into the corridor.

“Nura and Phelan told me the details of the dream,” he began with a stammer. “I feel like I must apologize, Miss Neven.”