Amaris’s eyes fluttered open. She turned to look at the owner of the lovely voice. Part of her wished she hadn’t.

Amaris knew what Nox looked like. She had been her best friend for years. She had been the source material for many of the portrait drawings Amaris had done under the supervision of the matrons. She’d seen her face more times than she could count. Even still, she’d done her best to quiet her gaze when it had wandered in the orphanage. Amaris had regarded Nox’s features, pausing her treacherous heart when it had suggested a want for more. She quieted the voice, damning it for its thoughts.

Her heart cracked. She knew for the second time that she must be dreaming, for everything was different. Nox looked more beautiful, more powerful, more ethereal. It was all evidence of a dream.

“You look different” was all Amaris said. She felt sad at the thought. Had it really been that long? Could she have possibly forgotten Nox’s features? She knew this young woman. She knew her better than anyone in the world, and everything she saw was off somehow. Too pretty. Too glowing. Too different. Her mind must be filling in gaps with new qualities, forgetting the friend who’d loved her altogether.

Nox smiled, but the twitch of her lips did not reach her eyes. Her hand moved tenderly amongst Amaris’s hair.

“Time will do that.”

Amaris’s eyes flitted around the room, but she felt no urgency to leave. They appeared to be in Farleigh, but they were not in the familiar multi-cot dormitories. They reclined together in one lone, large bed that rested against the far wall of the dorm room. There were no noises of children or echoes of company in the hall. They seemed to be utterly alone, the privacy as nerve-racking as it was intimate. The sheets were not the scratchy, cheap starchy linens of the orphanage but a soft, organic cotton that felt extravagant against her legs. Her nightdress was lovelier than anything she’d had the pleasure of owning. Its straps were barely more than threads as it seemed to hold itself together on mere prayers rather than fabric.

Misremembering Nox felt like a betrayal. It was painful. Dreams were meant to be a reprieve, but in a way, this was too lovely to be more than a nightmare. The hurt she felt threatened to unleash everything she worked hard to keep under lock and key.

“I don’t want to miss you anymore,” Amaris said, voice thick with emotion.

Nox arched her brow curiously. “There are two ways you can stop missing me.”

“How?”