“Life rises out of death, death rises out of life; in being opposite they yearn to each other, they give birth to each other and are forever reborn. And with them, all is reborn, the flower of the apple tree, the light of the stars. In life is death. In death is rebirth. What then is life without death? Life unchanging, everlasting, eternal? What is it but death-death without rebirth?”

—Ursula K. Le Guin

1

1

A Reunion

Princess Varia of Cavanos watches me with the eyes of an amused wildcat. Eyes that should by all accounts be dead. And yet here she is, blinking them and making them crinkle up with her beautiful, slow smile.

A single naked realization rings like a deep bell in my head: Varia is alive. She stands right here in front of me—the daughter King Sref of Cavanos mourned so deeply. The sister Prince Lucien of Cavanos missed so dearly. Next to me and yet away from me, Lucien takes a single step forward, reaching for her with a shaking hand.

“Varia. You’re…”

“Alive?” she finishes for him softly. “Yes.”

“This isn’t—” He walks toward her. “This isn’t some magic trick by a witch? I’m not dreaming?”

Princess Varia looks around at the pile of bodies at my feet, the blood staining the grass, and the pale yew tree blotched red.

“If anything, it would be a nightmare.” Her dark eyes roam over the corpses to rest on Gavik’s body, his glassy eyes blood-smeared and lifeless. “But, since the archduke is dead because of it, I’d call it a pleasant one.”

Lucien reaches Varia, the two of them like dark-haired, sable-eyed, golden-skinned mirror images of each other. The same proud hawk nose rests on each of their faces, the same long lashes and razor-sharp cheekbones and brows. My feet won’t move; my lips won’t form words.

She’s dead. She’s supposed to be dead, killed by Heartless like me five years ago.

Lucien reaches up and touches his sister’s shoulder, hesitating at first, as if he’s scared to dispel an illusion. But his fingers meet her robes, and he inhales sharply.

“You’re alive. Really alive. I looked for you, for the Tree you talked about. I looked everywhere for it, hoping beyond hope I would find you—”

Varia smiles at him gently, the same smile King Sref gave me when he and I met while looking at her death portrait—knowing and regretful all at once. She rests her forehead against Lucien’s.

“I understand that it’s hard to believe,” she murmurs. “And you did well. But there will be time to explain everything, especially now that Gavik has been squashed.” She pulls away and her eyes roam to me. “You there, Heartless.”