An icy finger trails down my spine. “Defensive magic,” I say, remembering the necklace my mother left for me on my other path.

She nods and then bites her lip. “Please,” she says, “tell me what you’re doing here.”

My thoughts are muddy and it takes me a few moments to clear them enough to speak. “After Latham killed my gran and then my mother, he stole their bones. He wants me dead too. I have to find him before he finds me.” I tell her the story—how Latham is determined to collect the bones from three generations of Charmers. How he used Declan to spy on me and to try to win my affections so I’d have all three essential tattoos. How he wants to kill me slowly so that my bones will be as powerful as possible. Bram’s brow furrows as he listens. His gaze falls to the tattoo on my wrist, and I feel my cheeks heat.

Avalina’s fingers worry the bone charm that rests in the hollow of her throat. Her expression is bleak. “I haven’t seen Latham in years. I wouldn’t have the first idea how to find him.”

“And yet you’re still protecting yourself from him.”

She drops the necklace, and her hand falls into her lap.

“You must know he’s still obsessed with you.” I dip my head toward her amulet. “You wouldn’t need to wear that otherwise.”

“I can’t help you.” Her voice is small, uncertain.

“Maybe you could just tell us a bit about him,” Bram tries. “What he was like when you knew him. It might help.”

She shakes her head. “You need to leave. Please.”

My mind snags on the please. The courtesy of it. The civility, even as she’s trying to kick us out. She wants to help, but she’s afraid.

“I’m going to die soon.” My voice is soft, but steady. “I’ve seen it in a vision—over and over again. There’s probably nothing I can do about it. Probably nothing you can. But when you hear the news, I wonder if you will torture yourself with what could have been? What you might have said that could have made a difference.”

Her expression is stricken. So is Bram’s. “You’re trying to manipulate me,” she says. She sounds horrified. Indignant.

“Yes,” I say, because that’s exactly what I’m doing. “But I’m also telling the truth. I know what it is to stare down an alternate path and wonder at the different choices you might have made. It’s not a fate I would wish on anyone.”

A hundred emotions flicker over her face, and worry puddles in my chest as I wait for which one will prevail. But finally, her expression settles into resignation. “It’s a very long story. I’ll make us a kettle of tea.”