I opened the wound wide today by looking through pictures. Now every memory I ever shared with Lily is fresh in my mind—my thirteenth birthday party when she shoved cake in my face and pushed me in the pool. That time we went to the eighth grade dance together because we were best friends and we could. The day we stood side by side as we took our oaths as shadow knights-in-training and proceeded to duel each other. The dance she did when she won (I let her).

“I understand,” she says, and for a moment, I think she might share something about how she experiences grief, but she’s quiet.

Before, I’d only glimpsed her sorrow. Tonight, it tore free, and yet she remained upright, and I wonder when I’ll be able to handle the weight. When will Lily’s loss not feel like a stab to the gut?

After a moment, I get to my feet. “Can I show you something?” She looks wary, so I add, “It’s not far. Promise.”

She regards me for a moment. Her ever-changing eyes study me in a way that makes me feel like she’s trying to figure out every word I never said. Then she slips her fingers into mine, and I shift into my Valryn form. Her eyes widen slightly as she watches me transform.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.”

I smile like an idiot, reading too much into her statement, but it suggests that she plans to stick around, and that makes my chest feel lighter. I scoop her up and take off. Her hounds scramble after us, baying their way through the streets, but soon we’re flying over woods, their branches thick with leaves.

Anora’s arms tighten around my neck, her cheek brushing my own. “You could have warned me!” she cries against my ear.

“There’s no fun in that.”

I keep my promise, and just as quickly as we take flight, we land. I set Anora on her feet in a grove of willow trees.

“Call off your hounds,” I say.

“Why do you keep calling them mine?” she asks.

“Because they are clearly yours. They seem to want to protect you, just as the Valryn are here to support and train you.”

The hounds bound out of the darkness, slipping through the trees like ghosts themselves. I only wish they moved like ghosts. They could wake the dead with all the noise they make. Good thing normal humans can’t hear them.

I stay a few feet away from Anora when she turns to face them.

“I’m fine,” she says, easily this time, no hesitancy in her voice.

They halt and sit, a low chorus of growls rumbling in disapproval.

“They don’t seem to trust you,” Anora says, tilting her head as she studies them.