“You lied to them?”

“Yes.”

I remembered Rhyanon’s hand on my forehead, stroking my hair. She would have told me, if she knew. She would never have been part of this.

With difficulty, I pushed aside those feelings. “If I do what the Star wants, it could save Finn?”

“A small chance.”

I had promised to fix him. Any chance, no matter how small, was better than giving up. No matter the cost. I took a deep breath.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

Cyde nodded solemnly. “Then I’ll make sure you reach Ventris unharmed.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SEVEN

The passages were filled with flickering shadows. I lay in the dark and traced the dim outlines of the mosaics over the wall. The coloured tiles fit together like snake scales, cold and smooth and ancient. The longer I stared at them, the stranger the patterns grew: the swirling curlicues and looping spirals transformed from familiar to alien before my eyes.

So the Ash Disciples had it right all along. Our blood was tainted, our power corrupt. And my whole life devoted to preserving a myth. What a stupid waste. Although I guess it didn’t really matter—even if everyone had known the full ugliness of our origins, Sisters would probably have ended up performing much the same role. We would still serve and protect and sacrifice. We would still do good, and evil, and whatever else it took to get by, just to carve out a small space for ourselves and call it meaningful. Maybe telling a kinder story had made that duty easier to bear.

I closed my eyes.

Are you there? I thought.

Silence in response. I tried to listen deeper, to feel out which corners of my mind were foreign—the not-me parts—but it was like trying to identify which of my limbs belonged to someone else.

Do you want to hurt me?

Nothing.

Can you help him?

It was like calling out into a dark room; if the Star could hear me, she gave no sign. I hadn’t really expected a response. And, of course, there was always the possibility that Galain Myde had been delusional.

“El?” said Millie.

I wanted to pretend that I was asleep, just so that everyone would leave me alone. Talking to my friends was impossible; I could already anticipate their reactions. Finn would outright refuse to listen, while Millie would be unable to admit she wanted me to save her brother no matter the cost. Confessing to that would kill her. Well, not literally. Apparently dying was my job.

And if I told them about the Order’s origins, what then? Of course, there was no guarantee they were descended from Aytrium’s original inhabitants, but on some level, it didn’t even matter. In their hearts, I knew that they would lay secret, furtive claim to that heritage. A better, purer people. Not like me.