Enrique pointed at the bridge. “Go!” he yelled to Séverin. “RUN!”

Laila looked to Zofia.

“I’ve got her!” said Enrique.

Laila gave a sharp nod. She and Séverin ran, water splashing around their legs as they reached for the bridge of bones. The moment Laila touched it, the bridge glowed brighter.

“Zofia!” called Enrique.

But Zofia did not move. Even with Hypnos’s song hopefully drowning out the siren’s song, it was as if Zofia were choosing the siren. She shook her head. The illusion of the girl grew stronger, the bones of the skeleton were hardly visible. She looked at Enrique, smiling widely.

Her grin was clear: I win.

“NO!” screamed Enrique. “Zofia, come on!”

He reached out to grab her hand when the skeleton-illusion swiped out a bony claw. It snagged on his bandages, loosening them. For the first time, sound rushed in. Hypnos’s song broke off, and he gasped for air.

In those few seconds, an unearthly music filled Enrique’s senses. It was unlike anything he had ever heard—like the sound of honeyed light and the throaty laugh of daydreams. The song diffused through him like sugar in hot milk, and he might have stayed in that moment for eternity if Hypnos hadn’t jabbed him sharply and, once more, began to sing.

Enrique shook himself.

Water sloshed around her ankles as Zofia walked, hand in hand with the skeleton, into the lake.

“No!” he cried out. “Wait!”

For the first time, Zofia paused. She looked over her shoulder. Enrique lunged forward to snatch her arm and drag her away when the skeleton snapped her teeth. Enrique heard its voice in his head: bitter and sly.

Play fair, trespasser … your temptation versus mine … grab her, and I will show her an illusion so sweet, you will watch her drown before your eyes. The temple will gain another guardian.

Enrique’s throat tightened. “Zofia … please. Come back with us. Look. The bridge isn’t far…”

It was true. The bridge was hardly three meters away. Already, Laila and Séverin were halfway to the other side. The moment they were on it, they would be safe.

“Why should I listen to you?” asked Zofia.

The waves rose higher, teetering, threatening to crash.

“Because we can’t do this without you, Zofia! Laila needs you!”

Don’t listen to him, Zosia. I am the one who needs you. I am your sister. He is no one.

The illusion’s voice changed to dulcet tones. Dimly, Enrique realized he was staring at an illusion of Hela, Zofia’s older sister.

This is the boy who couldn’t be bothered to kiss you unless it was tied to a mission. He does not want you. And Laila is safe and well! She is waiting for us inside the guest rooms. You shall see if you follow—

Enrique tried to touch her hand, but Zofia yanked it back as if stung.

“She’s lying, Zofia—”

“She is right,” said Zofia dully. “We are friends.”

“Yes. But”—Enrique felt as though he were lifting up a veil to reveal some secret corner of himself—“but I like you far more than a friend probably should. I … I liked our kiss. If things were different, I’d probably be trying to figure out how to do it again—”