And then, with the pale stone in her hands, her gift from Ashes, she explained the final revelation of the prophecy – the barrier falling at her hand.

Evera sat silently, taking in every word. Once she finished, she was quiet and thoughtful.

‘Do you believe it?’ Evera asked.

‘Do you?’

Evera fidgeted with the ring on her finger. ‘I don’t know. It – it might make sense.’

At the admission, it struck Sapphire that Evera had a point. The Shadow Witches’ involvement in her birth and her return, her eyes, the voice in her head. There were so many holes in the story they had woven, and so much information was fighting for space in her head that she hadn’t pieced it all together – or tried to – to see that the fragments didn’t fit.

She had known. She had been correct to question the king and queen, to not trust a word that left their lips. She had been right.

They had lied to her: over dinner, over lunch, in the gardens, in the throne room. They had lied to her while looking her directly in the eye.

And Araxia, the woman who she had come to love and admire …

Mercy, had they ever been honest with her about anything? Or was she just another necessary step in the continuance of the Canmore reign?

Did they even … love her as one should love a daughter? Or were they just desperate to retain control of a broken country?

Her heart ached at her own ignorance but burned with conviction.

‘It would be much easier if I didn’t believe them, wouldn’t it?’

Evera nodded. Sapphire longed for her friend’s wisdom. Evera’s guidance was always level-headed and assured, always leading her in the proper direction, but the girl offered none.

‘May I ask you a question? And you’ll tell me the truth?’ Evera finally asked.

‘Of course.’

Evera shifted uncomfortably, like she was nervous for what she was about to say.

‘If it was true and you were part of the prophecy, would you fulfil the final revelation?’

The question brought Sapphire pause, and she returned her gaze to the clouds and found the sky had cleared entirely – the moon bright overhead.

Would she?

Frankly, if she thought long enough about it – about the images that danced in the fire and the desperate confessions made by Ashes about their mistreatment – she might.

But she wouldn’t allow herself to think about it. Not for long enough to drive her insane.

‘No. I wouldn’t.’

And she believed the words as they left her mouth.

But then she felt the smallest brush of hands wrapping around her throat, and her eyes darted around the room. Evera didn’t notice.

Don’t worry, my child. I’ve waited a thousand years. I don’t mind waiting for you to realize who you are.