“Is it because you were in my head before I fought the blighted? You’ve never done that before. Not while I was being… Well.” He looked pained.

“Maybe.” I gulped in air. “And it’s the first time you fought a daeva-like creature without me in control.”

“I know. It won’t happen next time. I’ll boot you out of my head—”

“Next time? Fox, are you hearing yourself? Next time? Is this how you really want to live? Is this how you want to come home to Inessa, looking like you’ve been tortured and left for dead? What’s next time going to look like? What body parts will you be missing? Your head? I’m sure Inessa would love that.”

“You leave her out of this, Tea!” my brother fired back. “I don’t have much choice!”

“Maybe you should! Maybe we should have found a better way to live instead of me putting you back together all the time!”

Fox quieted. “There isn’t a better way, Tea.”

“What if there was?”

“What?”

“The book we found in Istera for starters. It said that we weren’t intended to have these abilities, that no one should have been an asha or a Deathseeker to begin with.”

“Hollow Knife was a trickster.”

“And so was Blade that Soars!”

“You know the real problem? It’s that damned heartsglass of yours! It’s darkrot, Tea. You’re so stubborn thinking you can control it! We have to tell Mykkie, or it’ll be too late!”

“You promised me more time!” I yelled back. “It’s my decision! Not yours!”

“You’re tired.” Fox sounded exhausted, grim. “And you’re obviously stressed. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

What was the point? My brother wasn’t going to believe me tomorrow any more than he did today. But I nodded, because he was right about one thing: I was tired of talking.

“Are you okay?” Kalen asked, entering the cell after Fox had left.

I sniffed, looking away.

“I can go.”

“No.” I reached for him, and a new vision rose to meet my gaze. But unlike Fox’s horrible deaths, there was warmth, love. Another Kalen superimposed himself over the original—stubbled, face framed by long hair and a wilder look, reaching his hand out for mine. Are you ready, love? he asked.

Then there was another me accepting his offer, rising to my feet, feeling strong and beautiful and happy, answering him in a voice that was mine but also wasn’t. “Always.”

I blinked, and both were gone. Kalen, clean-shaven Kalen, was the only one left.

“Please stay.” My voice was husky, unwilling to think about what this meant, why all my visions prophesied the worst for everyone but him. “Always stay.”

• • •

I was dreaming again. I held a knife and I was covered in blood, but the blood was not my own.