“It happened while I fought with the sand. Every time I was about to claw my way free, time would start up again, then the sand would drag me back under.”

Clues pieced themselves together. False Bastiaan’s glassy eyes once he’d emerged from the sand. His confusion over the Trial dust. It wasn’t him.

“A test,” I murmured. That’s what these Trials were, right? “Summer was testing me.” That’s why they were created—to test the pilgrim. To make sure the person was worthy of a Talent. Why would the Trial present a dying, wounded, false Bastiaan?

“Whatever it was, you passed. That’s two Trials you’ve defeated on your own,” Bastiaan mused.

“And I killed the bear.”

He choked a laugh, then stared at me in amazement. “You what?”

“With my skate blade.” I could still feel the impact of my strikes rattle my bones. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, but Bastiaan’s appreciative whistle helped me move past it. After all, it was a creature of the Trials. For all I knew it would regenerate when the Trials did.

“Then dragged what you thought was me across this scorching piece of desert.” He shook his head. “You should have left me.”

Click. “That was the test.” It was so clear now. “The Trial wanted to see if I’d leave you behind.” If I’d save myself. That explained Kees’s earlier comment asking Sven how he defeated the Trials alone. Sven didn’t. And Kees knew what the Summer Trial demanded.

Part of me had been tempted to leave Bastiaan behind. I could have spared myself so much pain—the wounds and wreckage that were now my feet. I sat on the sand and stretched my legs out in front of me. Would I ever skate again?

Bastiaan frowned as he took in the state of my feet. “Why didn’t you abandon me?”

“How could I?” I tried to tuck my feet out of view. “You’ve brought me life. Can I repay you with death?” Did I really admit that to him? He would think me an imbecile. But I’d been willing to die mere minutes ago if it meant saving him.

He took my face in his hands. I lifted my eyes to his, holding my breath against his next words. “We two have broken pasts. Broken stories and broken Talents. And yet . . . for some reason there’s a promise of wholeness when we’re together.”

We were inches apart, yet the space felt too far. His words—his meaning—rang in my ears. Relief and freedom came with acknowledging and accepting our brokenness. It was okay to be broken as long as we didn’t build a home in it. It was okay to admit it. And to unite with a goal of healing.