“Yes,” Annika says. “I want you to get closer to Prince Caelan. It’s clear he’s grown attached to you in some way, and I think we need to explore that. With any luck, you might be able to question him more freely. Find out about the Night of the Falling Star, and perhaps even the location of the Orb.”

I glance sideways at Theo. I might be able to find out more about Martin, too.

“Are you up for it?” Annika asks, eyes serious.

I nod. “Yes. I can do it.”

“Good,” Annika says, then waves us toward the door. “Go on, then. You only have a few more days to get a dress ready.”

I make a dress that’s green and gold and covered in bursts of starlight. It’s layered with lace and tulle and so many gems, it looks more like artwork than clothing.

And when I try it on and gaze at myself in the mirror, I realize I’ve made a dress that looks like twinkling lights dancing in a darkened forest.

Queen Ophelia paces across the rippling shadows, dressed in a gown the color of a sapphire. She tilts her head up, sharp cheekbones catching light that doesn’t exist in this place.

“I think I want to forgive him. The man who murdered me,” I say to her profile. “Not because I have to, or because I’m supposed to. Not even because people say forgiveness is a kindness. He doesn’t deserve my kindness. He hurt me; I don’t owe him anything. But that doesn’t mean he can’t deserve someone else’s kindness. Maybe he has parents, or friends, or someone who cares about him. Let him be their problem.” I hesitate. “But I’m letting it go. I’m forgiving, because I don’t want him to be someone who has any ties to me. Even in the afterlife.”

She doesn’t respond.

“I… I guess I just wanted you to know,” I finish.

Ophelia turns her gaze, black eyes forever searching for the shape of me she can’t see. “You wouldn’t prefer him to suffer?”

“No,” I say firmly. “His suffering would make someone else suffer. And it wouldn’t make me feel better. It wouldn’t bring me back.” I lift my shoulders. “I don’t want to hold on to the things that hurt me. That’s part of being free.”

Her mouth parts. “You think I’m not free?”

“You hate humans. Hate is a prison.”

She hums, moving her delicate hands in front of her and folding them together. “Except I don’t hate humans. I found them curious, once. I like things that still need to be understood.” She tilts her head. “But then I realized there was nothing left to learn about them. They are limited, repeating the same mistakes century after century. You may not see it, but I am protecting Infinity from their cruelty.”