“Calm down?” he shouted, tears running down the sides of his face. “You rejected me. My only friends on the outside abandoned me. It’s only a matter of time before Peggy does, too. You might as well kill me now.”

My stomach twisted at the mention of my villainy. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Where’s your knife?”

I leaned down and tapped him in the forehead. He yelped like a startled puppy, swatting my hand away. “Stop it, Magnus. I’m not going to kill you.”

He was panicked, his breath coming in quick huffs. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be alone?”

His words sent a thin, needle’s stab through my stomach and out my spine. Wandering the streets. Checking over my shoulder. Having no one to rely on for … weeks at a time. I didn’t just have an idea of what it was like. I knew. Only, it wasn’t a burden I had the luxury to make room for.

“Magnus.” I spoke firmly but calmly as I sat down beside him. I stroked the line from his forehead, between his eyes, down his nose, and back again, shushing him gently. “You need to calm down now. All right? Calm. Down. Breathe.”

My slow words and soothing touch seemed to do the trick, and eventually his breath eased. Tears flowed freely down his face, but no sobs with them.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Andromeda,” he said. “Because no one in their right mind is going to volunteer to die.”

CHAPTER 23

I pulled on the oversized boots, opened the big black umbrella, and stepped into the snowy hallway.

Apparently, snow was common in many parts of the country, the world, but I’d never seen it before. It was mesmerizing, watching the little icy fluffs materialize from the ceiling to aimlessly drift down. I almost didn’t want to get rid of it.

But it wasn’t real snow, obviously. More obvious when it retreated from me, shifting away and around the shield of my brand-new—apparently more powerful—amulet.

I left the snow and hammered a nail just outside the domain of the Manifestation, hanging my amulet on it and making sure it was still in sight when I stepped back in, feeling the snow crunch underfoot.

I stooped down, the umbrella shading me and the snow below. Spreading my fingers, I pressed my hand into the white fluff. It gave easily with a crunch, wet and light, and I was buried to mid-forearm before my palm touched something harder and colder. When I lifted my hand out, I took some of the snow with me, gazing at the fluffy crystals in my hand.