“No, he’ll function completely normally. He should be able to protect Saskia should the need arise. He just won’t remember any of it.”

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Tessa says.

Jacey shrugs. “We volunteered to help. What else are we supposed to do? Politely ask Rasmus to back off so Saskia can go investigate the man who wants to kill her?”

Bram clears his throat. “Speaking of protecting Saskia … if we’re going to go back to the shop, I think we need to take more precautions. We were reckless before.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Niklas says. “I could carve a bone flute for Talon if he can borrow a bird. That way at least we’d have some surveillance capabilities.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Talon says. “I’ve already charmed half the birds in the training program and I’m sure I could convince one of them to follow me.”

Tessa’s fingers curl around my hand. “Obviously, I’ll be ready to help too,” she says, without offering a specific plan. We all know if we need Tessa’s skills, something has gone terribly wrong.

“Good,” Bram says. “From now on, I plan to have my breaking pouch with me every time we leave Ivory Hall.”

Warmth floods my chest at their concern. Their loyalty. I think of how lonely I felt leaving Midwood. How utterly solitary in the world. But now I’m surrounded by people I care about. Somehow the bone games have taken the threads of our individual lives—our hopes and our fears alike—and woven them together so that they are one fabric. I wish there were a word for it, this intangible thing that’s stronger than friendship. Even deeper than empathy.

It’s how I felt about my mother. About Gran. And then I realize there is a word.

It’s called family.

Niklas suddenly sits forward in his chair. “Sas, what’s on your arm?”

I look down to find a thick gray band situated halfway between my wrist and my elbow. My gaze skips to my other arm. An identical marking. Tessa gasps. “I have them too.”

We all do. Fresh new tattoos have etched onto our forearms. When we stand side by side, it’s as if they form a chain that links us together.

The next day, I wake up to find my pendant tangled in my bedsheets. It must have fallen off during the night, which feels like a bad omen considering what we’re planning. I take a deep breath before Tessa and I step out of our room, determined not to let anything unusual show on my face. Rasmus is leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. He looks up as I open the door.

“Good morning,” I say.

He dips his head in my direction. It’s as friendly a greeting as he ever gives.