“Josiah,” Rosalind managed. It was all she could get out right then. If she divulged the full details, she’d break into hysterical sobs—and she wanted to do that when she was alone.

Tammi frowned, approaching across the stone floor. “Caine said you found your twin. Where is she?”

Rosalind shook her head. “I found her, but she wasn’t right. Mentally. I think Josiah warped her mind. The Brotherhood has a way of doing that to people.”

“So what happened to her?” Aurora asked. “Ambrose will want to know.”

Rosalind blinked, fatigue overtaking her. “She ran off. She seemed to think Josiah was her savior. My guess is that she’s wandering around Cambridge, ranting about her protector.”

“That’s some serious Stockholm Syndrome shit,” Aurora said.

Right now, Rosalind couldn’t handle the guilt—the crushing weight of having sent her sister to the torture chambers.

Then again, maybe Rosalind was just as much a victim of the Brotherhood as Miranda had been—after all, the Brotherhood had a way of warping a person’s mind.

“Is Malphus all right?” Caine asked.

“Orcus is tending to him,” Aurora said. “What’s our plan now? How long are we staying?”

Caine rubbed his sternum where he’d been stabbed. “Rosalind and Tammi should stay here for now. You and I will return to Lilinor with Malphus when night falls. We’ve just provoked an all-out war with the Brotherhood, and we need to report to Ambrose.”

Aurora put her hands on her hips. “He won’t be happy that we lost Miranda.”

Caine glanced at Rosalind. “We’ll find Miranda again. I promise. But right now I’m going to check on my brother. You should all get some rest.”

Without a backward glance, he stepped out of the celestial room, and the girls followed behind him. Tammi closed the door, leaving Rosalind on her own.

Alone at last, she threw herself on the bed, her body burning with exhaustion. Caine was an amazing healer, but even he couldn’t fix everything.

She pulled down the covers, climbing into the bed before blowing out the candles.

She closed her eyes, and the dreams that flickered through her sleep were of a girl whose face looked just like her own, of dandelions and bluebell flowers, and sea foam running over her toes.

When she woke in the darkness hours later, she was almost certain someone had brushed a soft kiss across her cheek.

Chapter 34

Rosalind heated the silver kettle in the cavernous stone fireplace, breathing in the strong, herbal aroma of Orcus’s coffee. Since she’d met the night demons, her schedule had become completely screwed up. Strong coffee at seven p.m.—in a vast, stony living room—seemed a perfectly reasonable idea.

Tammi sat cross-legged in a mahogany chair, stretching her arms over her head. “I’ve never in my life slept as well as I have here. I don’t know if Orcus is lacing our tea with opiates or if I’m just suited to sleeping during the day, but I feel amazing. What did Orcus say this place was called, again? I want to take up residence.”