The next morning, I lingered in bed for several minutes, a familiar heaviness weighing me down. I left for Illucia tomorrow, and my books had yielded nothing definite. I left for Illucia tomorrow, and I couldn’t hatch the egg. I left for Illucia tomorrow, and today was my mother’s birthday.

Missing her was a dull ache, like a bruise in my chest that throbbed anytime I remembered her.

Kiva had told me a thousand times it wasn’t my fault, but some days, I couldn’t keep the regret at bay, couldn’t stop the heavy snake from slithering up my shoulders. I knew better than to think I could have convinced my mother not to go after the eggs, but I still wished I’d tried. Maybe she would have listened. Maybe she’d still be alive.

I felt myself sinking. Felt the familiar weight pressing me so deep inside myself, my body hardly felt like my own, until drawing air felt like breathing water, and I wondered what might happen if I simply stopped.

The door clicked open. I expected Kiva, so when I saw Caliza, her eyes red from tears and her cheeks flushed, I stared. She’d barely closed the door when I started crying. Fumbling with my sheets, I tumbled out of bed, meeting her halfway. Warm arms encircled me, and I buried my face in Caliza’s chest as she pulled me close, each of us seeking the others strength. My knees wobbled, but she held me up until I was able to find the will to stand on my own. Several minutes passed before I drew back.

“I don’t know how to hatch the egg. I leave for Illucia tomorrow, and Mother is—” I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to finish the sentence.

Caliza released a quiet breath before leading me to my reading chair by the window. I collapsed into it, drawing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. She sat down across from me on the ottoman, a hand on my arm, squeezing tight. We stayed there for what felt like hours, and the familiar snake curled around my shoulders.

“Get that look off your face.”

I almost jumped at the sharpness in Caliza’s voice. “What?”

“I know that look. You’ve had it almost every day since Ronoch. It’s the look you get when you’ve given up.”

I turned away. Guilt gnawed at my insides, even as the quiet voice in my head promised this was for the best. Giving up was easier. It was better not to try, not to care.

“Thia.” The forcefulness of Caliza’s voice pulled my gaze.

“What else am I supposed to do? There’s nothing in the library, no one else to ask. There’s nothing left!”

“There’s you.”

My jaw clenched. “Like I said. Nothing.”