“Don’t worry. They don’t come here,” Thea said, but that wasn’t what Eleanor was worried about at all. Thea seemed to realize this, and bit her lip. “Here. Let me untie you.”

Her small fingers made quick work of the knots. Eleanor massaged her wrists, which were crisscrossed with angry red marks.

Thea gave a sudden shudder. She wrapped her arms around herself and sank down into a crouch. “Sorry,” she whispered. “They’ll be finished soon.”

“Finished?” Eleanor echoed. She dropped her voice. “Your parents. You’re still in the throne room, aren’t you?”

Thea nodded. “Some of me. As little as I could manage without them noticing. It’s all right. I can stand it, as long as I concentrate on being here instead of in there. It’s easier if I stay distracted.” She bit her lip. “Usually, Ash—he tells me stories,” she said.

“Ash. Your brother,” Eleanor said. Mr. January telling his little sister stories was not an image she had ever considered. “I could tell you a story,” Eleanor said softly.

“Please,” Thea whispered.

They walked to a garden bench, the only thing in the garden that seemed like a reasonable color, and sat together. Eleanor’s mind spun with worry for her friends. But she couldn’t help them right this second. She could help Thea.

“Once upon a time,” she began.

She found herself telling Thea one of the stories from Thirteen Tales of the Gray—The Girl Who Danced with the Moon.

“Where did you learn that story?” Thea asked dreamily when Eleanor was done, her eyes distant and her hand trembling where it rested on her thigh.

“It’s from a book,” Eleanor said.

“You have books? We’re not allowed to have books,” Thea said. She got a wistful look on her face. “Once I heard about a place that has every story from every world. A clever thief steals his story and changes it to make himself rich.”

Every story from every world. Where had Eleanor heard that before? “The Library of Endersea,” she said. Wander had told her about that, hadn’t she?

“That’s it. The Library of Endersea,” Thea repeated. She sighed. “I’d like to go there.”

At that moment, there was a soft shush of cloth against stone, and Ash himself emerged into the garden, followed closely by Melia and by Thea, who looked wretched. Her skin was pale, tinged with gray, her hair limp and dull.

Eleanor’s Thea stood and walked over to her, and the air flexed as it had on the path back home. Suddenly there was only one girl, looking exhausted.

Ash stared at Eleanor. “They’re searching the castle for you,” he said.

“And are you going to tell them where I am?” Eleanor asked, a challenge in her voice.

“You can’t tell,” Thea said, grabbing his hand. “They’ll Empty her. You know they will.”