I followed Bryn down the cobblestone roads, occasionally falling behind her long, purposeful strides. Doldastam resembled Merellä more than it did Förening, but it was strangely greener here, with plenty of bushes and tall evergreens, tangles of vines growing over the houses, gardens bursting with vegetables in the narrow strips between them.

Bryn stopped at a cottage near the center of town, and she opened the front door without knocking. The house smelled of seawater with a faint undertone of waterlilies, and the walls were pale blue. Old antiques and Kanin artifacts crowded the shelves, but the rest of the space felt airy and open.

“Mom?” Bryn shouted.

“Bryn?” her mother yelled from upstairs, and a moment later, she was jogging down the steps. Her short, pale blond hair was damp and wild, and she wore a long sundress with bright teal flowers that brought out the color of her eyes. Runa Aven was a tall, beautiful woman, looking even more radiant than when I had seen her five years ago.

“What’s wrong?” Runa asked her, then glanced over at me. “Did something happen?”

“No, we just need to talk,” Bryn said.

“Yeah, of course.” Runa motioned to the living room. As I walked by her, she asked, “You’re Bryn’s friend, Ella?”

“Ulla,” I corrected her.

“Ulla, right.” She smiled thinly and sat on the chair across from us. “I didn’t know that you were visiting.”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,” I said.

“Ulla thinks she’s my sister,” Bryn said, apparently having decided that my “blurt it out” method was the best way to go.

“Wh-wh . . .” Runa looked between the two of us, her mouth agape. “What?”

And then Bryn launched into an abridged version of Indu’s story, skipping over my rambling personal bits for the condensed facts. Runa didn’t say anything while Bryn talked, just stared ahead with her lips pressed together.

Runa hardly reacted at all, until Bryn handed her the napkin with the names. Then she made a small gasp, and put her hand to her mouth as tears formed in her eyes.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Bryn asked.

Runa’s hands trembled as she wiped at her eyes. “I eloped with Iver when I was only sixteen, and our families were furious because we were from different tribes. We were disowned, disinherited, stripped of our titles.”

“I know what you and Dad went through to be together,” Bryn said icily. “Because the two of you were so in love.”

“We were,” Runa sobbed, then took a deep breath so she could speak more calmly. “I loved Iver then, and I still love him now.”

“You’ve been married to Dad—to Iver—for twenty-six years, and I’m twenty-four years old,” Bryn told her mother harshly. “The math says that if Iver isn’t my father, then you must’ve cheated on him.”