“Your mother’s middle name. It begins with an M.”

An odd feeling curls inside me as if I’m spinning out of control, even though I’m not moving an inch.

“I don’t remember what the M stands for. It wasn’t in the note I wrote to be sure I didn’t forget,” I say more to myself than Rachel.

“It has to be Maeve,” Rachel says. “But neither of you remember the other, because Lady Aisling used Sebastian’s talent to remove your memories of your previous lives. All that you kept was that there was a family you’d lost.”

“And that we wanted that family back.” My hands begin to shake, and soon the quiver ripples over my entire body. “Until last night, I never even had a clue that Maeve was talented!”

And yet, it makes a terrible sort of sense. The Lady was able to successfully transform Maeve into one of the flowers in her garden, but my mind-based talent prevented her from doing the same to me. Instead, the Lady used my own mother’s talent to enslave me.

It’s horrifying. Sickening. And the sort of thing Lady Aisling would have taken particular pleasure in.

I wrap my arms around my middle and rest my cheek on the desk. It feels as though the breath has been yanked from my lungs.

No wonder we bonded so quickly, Maeve and me. Some unconscious part of us must have recognized the other. And given the powerful spells performed on us both by the Lady’s life bringer and youth keeper talents, we’ve barely aged a day since we were abducted.

Maeve is my mother. I think it again and again, trying to stun myself into believing it’s truly real.

It is. In my heart, I know it without a doubt.

What I haven’t figured out yet is what I’m going to do about it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Rachel and I spend the rest of the day making plans to rescue Sebastian. Euna, however, has instructed Rachel to keep me here. But Rachel has promised she’ll find a way around it. I’ve read her thoughts, so I know it’s true. She doesn’t think it’s fair to keep me from my friend, and she knows my talent will be necessary to the success of our plans.

When night falls, we sneak out of the library. Despite Euna’s order to keep me safely hidden inside, Rachel has found a way to smuggle me out of the fortress.

“Quickly,” she whispers as she cracks open the door to my quarters. I’ve been pacing my room for the last hour, dressed and ready to go, unable to focus on anything else. I waste no time obeying. She’s prepared with a laundry cart and several large wicker bins. She opens the top of one—it’s empty aside from Rachel’s cloak and satchel. I climb inside and nestle next to them.

She wheels me through the halls and down the ramp that leads to the room where they employ washerwomen to clean the clothes of the librarians and researchers. It’s late enough that there’s no one there now, which means we can slip out through the back door of the Archives with no one the wiser.