Another pyre, also wild and unclothed, appeared from the brush and latched its fangs into my upper arm with a snarl. I saw myself as a screaming child, lost in a grand house of a slave master as it went up in flames. I could not find my parents. I could not escape. But the memory was red-hot, just as the fire proved to be.

The pyres meant to consume all of me, it seemed. When at last I thought for certain no blood would be left for my survival, a great force flowed toward me, and the pyres who drank from me screeched and shriveled in a massive display of white light.

I could not move, even after they had gone. No matter, for Alexander came to me and pressed his hands to my wounds. The pyres had not been gentle, and I could feel the jagged holes at the sites of my injuries.

<<Slow your heart>>, Alexander urged me. And I did so to the best of my ability. <<My dear, slow. Slow>>. And then he leaned over me and kissed my head. <<Your leaving me will not be one of my memories>>, he meant. <<So you must slow down>>.

I slowed myself until I fell asleep. When I awoke, I had not moved at all from the place where I’d fallen, though the sun began to lift its head from slumber. June gasped at the sight of my eyes opening and called for Rosemary, who came over with handfuls of greenery to place on my back.

June pet my head as she knelt beside me. “You gave us quite the scare, Aurelie. We thought we might lose you.”

But I had other questions. The pyres? Did they make it to the tunnels? Were they on their way to freedom outside of Lykke? And my comrades? CJ and Niall? Were they both alive and well? And what of my Alexander?

I attempted to sit up, but June chided me. “Rest, child. Good heavens, this is not the time for more heroics.”

But I had not been heroic. Not by my measurements. Heroism requires doing that which cannot be done. I simply did what I must.

<<He has gone to discuss what consequences are to rest with the pyres who violated his desires. They dishonored his alliance with you, and such things cannot stand. Not as far as he is concerned>>, Rosemary explained to me. <<And the old woman is right. They could have killed you. Almost drained you dry>>.

“The pain must be great,” June said, her fingers gliding across my hair. “You have been whimpering in your sleep, my sweet girl.”

The pain was indeed great. And the dreadful memories of death and separation swelled within me like waves at high tide. I shivered at the thought of them.