Bone charming magic tugs me forward again, and I push back, afraid that if I’m swept into a reading, I’ll lose focus and Latham will retake control. That the wrong bones will heal. But the pull is overwhelming. Irresistible. I can feel the bones mending beneath my palm, joining together in one giant misshapen mass connected in odd places. Images rush past.

Latham as a dimple-cheeked baby. As a toddler, serious and slow to smile. As a young boy, anxious to please. I see his mother raise her hand to strike him. Watch his brow crease in fear. Power flows from my fingertips and the vision hiccups. Time flows backward. Latham’s mother lowers her hand. Lifts it again and brushes the hair from her son’s forehead instead. Latham’s brow smooths, like a tranquil crystal-clear lake the moment before a tossed stone breaks the surface. But the stone never comes. Not anymore. Latham’s life speeds by me. I try to see into his future—to give him the power he needs to change the Grand Council without the past that made him into a monster. But I don’t know if it’s possible. I see him argue his ideas to his colleagues, hear the passion in his voice as he tries to convince them he’s right. I try to lead him toward a path where he chooses persuasion instead of force. But the magic is slipping. I’m losing control.

I lose track of Latham. Other images fly past. My father bouncing me on his lap. Gran humming to herself as she prunes a rosebush. Bram biting into a ripe peach, laughing as the juices dribble down his chin. Talon. Niklas. Tessa. Jacey. I try to keep them all with me. Preserve a future where they’re still part of my life.

The vision spins faster and faster. People blur together then break apart, disintegrating before my eyes. My stomach lurches. Something is wrong. I try to pull back, but the magic has too strong a grip on me. And yet I feel weightless. Detached from my body, as if I only exist in a memory.

I wiggle my fingers, searching for Latham, but I can’t find him. It’s like he vanished. Maybe we both have.

Behind my closed eyelids, I see a sudden flash of light so intense that it cracks through my skull—blinding and painful. And then utter darkness.

I’m not sure if we remade the past, or if we destroyed it.

Chapter Thirty

Dust motes dance lazily in the air above my head.

I blink once. Twice.

My memories come back sluggish and confused, turning slow circles in my mind as if they’re lost children. I sit up, and my head screams in protest. A tight fist of fear clenches in my stomach. Where am I? Sunlight pours through narrow windows, illuminating shelves of boxes. Nearby, someone groans.