Gabriel watched Selly through the long hours of doing nothing but convalescing, recalling how she’d spoken in the mist they’d been lost in, her mind as sharp as ever. He hadn’t told their parents about the conversation, as he wasn’t sure if they’d understand that it hadn’t been a dream. Sometimes Selly came to sit at his bedside, holding his hand and smiling sweetly at him. She seemed happy to simply be together like that, and he wasn’t certain if she remembered the mist at all.

It also occurred to him that she’d been lost in that formless mist for a very long time, and he understood why everyone warned him that her mind might not recover from it. His own thoughts had a tendency to grow vague and formless. When exhaustion overwhelmed him, he wondered if he would ever be the same again.

When he managed to walk out of the infirmary under his own power, he climbed the stairs to the rooms he shared with Nic, ready to bathe and put on real clothes. He’d been braced for her lingering scent and vitality to hit him in the gut, but worse—there was no trace of her presence. Only her things, left behind, an open book discarded face down to mark her place. Her embroidery neatly folded on a side table. Her gowns, most of which he’d never gotten to see her wear, hanging like eviscerated ghosts in her wardrobe.

Afraid he might stand there fingering the fabric of her gowns, weeping like a child, he forced himself to walk away. Reasonably clean, shaved, and dressed, he went to the library and sent for Alise. She hadn’t wanted to summon Iliana and Han—along with the inevitable vicious pack of hunters on their trail—until Gabriel was able to fight. Jadren had been working on weapons to be enchanted, also refusing to show them to Gabriel until Asa gave approval.

Meanwhile, Nic was out there, somewhere, suffering and slowly losing her mind.

“Are you sure?” Alise asked dubiously. “Not to gainsay you, Lord Phel, but you’ve only just arisen from your sickbed. You’re still replenishing your magic and—”

“That’s why I need Han and Iliana,” he interrupted. “I can’t go after Nic without their help. Every day that passes is another day that—”

“I know that!” Alise nearly shouted. “You’ve been asleep for most of this, but I’m the one who’s been counting the days, sick with worry. I even wrote to Papa, that’s how desperate I was.”

“You did what?” Gabriel asked, astonished.

“I wrote to Lord Elal,” Alise answered, lifting her chin in stubborn pride, exactly as Nic would. “I offered to return as his heir if he would ransom Nic.”

“What did he say?”

She laughed bitterly. “He didn’t reply. I think I know why, too.”

“And?”

Dropping into a chair, she put her face in her hands, then looked at him, black eyes haunted. “When Sammael took Nic, I sent a spirit with them, to keep an eye on her. Just in case.”