My heart hammers in my chest. Part of me wants to pretend to wake up, to stop Isolde from baring this part of my history.

But I want too badly to hear her true, unfiltered thoughts about me to do that.

I stay as still as I can, trying to force my breathing into a slow, even pattern.

“There were a few times—” Isolde swallows hard, then starts again. Carefully. “The night that we left...we wanted to protect our parents. Maybe that was a bad idea, but it seemed like our only choice at the time.”

My arms are pulled tight to my chest and tug at my necklace. This dress is too low-cut to cover it, and I’d almost forgotten about it in all the chaos. But it’s still there. Still smooth and whole, still familiar between my restless, wringing fingers.

“So, no,” Isolde says. Her hands scrape over the stone as she shifts. “I’ve never seen her blast anyone with fire or summon a portal between worlds before. And I don’t know how using that kind of power didn’t do something worse to her. I mean, I’m glad it didn’t. I can’t stand seeing her hurt. But...”

She lets the unfinished thought hang in the air. Something between being fearing for me...and fearing me.

There’s more shuffling and rustling as Raze says, “You should rest.”

“But—”

“I’ll take watch.” Isolde must hesitate after that, because when he speaks again, I can hear the infuriating grin on his face. “Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

Isolde snorts but doesn’t argue. A moment later, I feel her warmth as she settles onto the stone a few inches away, hear the sound of her steady breathing. We catch a few restless hours of rest on the flat, cold stones, huddled together for warmth.

I wake early enough to watch the sun rise and see the sky slowly shift from pink to silver to forget-me-not blue.

In the daylight, the courtyard isn’t any less unsettling. We’re at the bottom of a deep fissure, with smooth white stone in every direction. After centuries of abandonment, gray streaks and ivy are trying to reclaim the mountain’s heart, but it’s still bright enough to dazzle my eyes.

Eventually, Isolde stirs. Olani, who’s usually up before the sun, wakes next, struggling to slip from sleep’s grip. “Raze! You didn’t wake me,” she accuses hoarsely as she shoves herself up with a grunt of pain.

He’s still sprawled on the rock several feet away, head pillowed in his arms. “Hm?”

“You’re still hurt,” I point out. “I thought I’d let you all sleep.”

She yawns. “So you think I want to slack off, just because of one little arrow wound?” Her head tilts to look at Isolde. My sister is pretending very hard that she isn’t also slowly waking, trying to bury her face in her short hair without much luck. Olani pokes her in the side.

“Don’t care what you want,” Isolde mumbles. Moving sluggishly, she stretches.