“I miss her,” she finally says. “Elias told me she wanted to come up to the Dark City with him to look for me, but they needed her in Vista. He said she was the one to lead the revolt overthrowing the Recruiters and forcing them from town. She’s in charge of it all now—in charge of making sure everyone in Vista survives.”

She looks down at her feet tracing invisible patterns over the floor. “Her name is Mary and she rescued me from the Forest. But she never told me that. I grew up thinking I was hers. I didn’t remember anything from before—nothing. When I found out …” She shrugs. “I’m sorry.” My sister’s voice is quiet as she talks down toward her tea.

I narrow my eyes. “What do you have to be sorry for?” I ask, genuinely confused.

She takes a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the mug until her knuckles glow white. She finally looks at me. “I’m sorry I had a mother when you didn’t. I’m sorry I had such an easy life growing up when you didn’t.” I’m about to interrupt her but she shakes her head as she takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I forgot about you. I’m sorry I didn’t even know to go looking for you. I didn’t even know to try to rescue you.” She pauses, her shoulders hitching a little. “I’m sorry Elias fell in love with me and not you.”

I wince at those last words but she’s not finished. She comes around to sit next to me, setting down my mug and pulling my hands into hers. I can feel the heat from the tea radiating off her skin.

“I see the way you look at me now, Annah. I see the resentment in your eyes.”

“Abigail—” I protest.

“It’s Gabry,” she says, her voice hardening. “And you know well enough that I can read every expression on your face the same way you can read mine.”

I pull away from her and move into the corner of the bed, tugging the covers up around me. She faces me, hands balled into fists at her sides. “I’m not perfect, Annah. I’ve never been perfect. I’ve been a horrible person many times and—”

I can’t help it; I start laughing. “You?”

“It’s not funny!” she shouts, and I’m surprised by her outburst. She paces across the room. “You don’t know what it’s like to have forgotten everything. Everything. To find out that the life you thought you knew was a lie.”

Her lips tremble and I can tell she’s close to tears. I never realized how much this affected her. “You really don’t remember?” I ask. “Any of it? Me? Our father? Elias and everyone else?”