Nova had had much time to wonder over the days and nights whether she had done the right thing in assisting Aurora’s escape. Goddess knew she’d sat too often in the dark, grappling with the possibility that she might have helped her truest friend into an early grave. For what could the wildlands be for a girl without storm magic except for a death sentence? She hoped—hoped with every spark of fire that burned beneath her skin—that her friend was somewhere happy and whole.

Her own weariness had her counting the days, wondering when Aurora might return, and if she could undo all the damage that had befallen Pavan in her absence. But as someone who had walked beneath the crushing weight of a dangerous secret, she wanted Aurora to have a life free of lies, free of peril, free of the Locke prince. Forever.

And so she told him one part of her truth. “I do not know for certain, but in the dark of night, when worries press too close to ignore, I fear the queen is right. Aurora Pavan is gone. For good.”

The first few moments after the declaration of Aurora’s true identity were like the calm before the storm, and then the silence broke with a cacophony of voices and a flurry of movements that only made Aurora more dizzy. She felt like she was dying—as if everything inside her was shriveling up like old fruit. And her thoughts were a jumble—some not even her own—as she tried and failed to rebuild her mental walls.

Taven’s deep booming voice shouted above all the rest. “Zephyr, please! Have I ever done anything to make you mistrust me?”

Aurora could not see the woman’s response; she could see nothing except a very small tunnel in the center of her vision that showed Taven kneeling over her.

Zephyr answered, “You pledged your life to our cause—if you are lying, I’ll not hesitate to take it as penance.”

“I pledged my life to her protection long before your cause. She is who I say she is.”

The woman did not reply, but almost immediately Aurora felt the rush of something cool on her skin. It wrapped around her like silk and then sank beneath her skin. She could feel it spreading inside her—like ice melting the burning pain. Her vision began to clear and her chest stopped aching and slowly she felt herself come alive again, as if she’d hung over the abyss of death by only her fingertips. She was able to swallow, her throat burning at first, but easing as the strange power worked through her.

By the time she sat up and looked at the woman called Zephyr, she felt as if she’d been born all over again. Her words were raspy when she asked, “Who are you?”

Zephyr stepped out of the shadows, emerging into the sunlight.