“The spell’s heart is inside you, Lena. You have to follow your instincts to lead you to the castle—we have no other choice.” Emris was a few paces behind, scanning anxiously over his shoulder for signs of pursuit. Dark clouds had gathered on the eastern horizon, and it was difficult to distinguish the black shapes wheeling in the sky—birds, or riders in flight?

“What if …?” Lena started, but shook her head. Even Emris didn’t know about her deepest secrets, her hopes, and her fears.

“What is it?” He pulled his horse up beside her, reached across to her, and squeezed her shoulder. “Lena, you can tell me anything.”

The ghost of his kiss burned on her lips. If she didn’t trust him, whom could she trust? She took a deep breath, her mind spinning back to the first time the butterfly had found her, how she’d felt special: as if she’d been chosen. “What if I wasn’t chosen at all? What if I’m not special? What if this is all just … chance?” She swallowed. “I was the only cryptling down there that night. It might’ve just been an accident of timing.”

Emris regarded her seriously. “Lena, you can’t think this way. The spell is chaotic magic. It’s not something you should feel special to have received.”

“And yet … even though Vigo died because of it, because of me … if it weren’t for the spell, I would never have found my way out. I would never have met you or traveled to the City of Kings and learned everything I have learned, seen everything I have seen.” She gazed into the writhing mists, feeling a similar writhing inside her own heart. “It feels wrong to be grateful, but I am.”

“I can understand that,” he replied gently. “But think of all the evil it has wrought too. The Radical’s fascination with you. The dead shop assistant. Lord Chatham. The circumstances in which we’ve had to flee—it’s all the spell’s doing. When we find Constance, she will remove the heart and destroy it, and that’s a good thing. The storm cloud will be gone forever. Isn’t that what you want too? To save your home?”

Is this my home? Lena thought. But she nodded. He was right. She knew he was. The storm cloud had caused her as much harm as it had good. It was only … without the spell, she’d just be … Well, who would she be really? Her old self? Trapped by destiny and painfully powerless? She sighed. “Let’s just go.”

“Good. Now, lead the way,” Emris said softly. “I trust you.” He turned to look at the sky one last time. “And hurry, Lena. I think they’re coming,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.