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She flexes her frail hands on her lap and looks down at them.

“Samick is always so cold. But he will feel the loss. It’s Dare I’m most worried about.”

The surprise flutters my lashes.

A frown turns down my mouth. “Not Rune?”

Not Caius. Not Eamon.

Dare.

Her smile is pained. She shakes her head ever so slowly, so frail. “Rune’s purpose is his career. He will hold onto that through the grief. Dare… He feels strongly. Like a litalf, maybe.” Her glance at me is fleeting. “Maybe more. Everything in him is amplified. After the Sacrament, after that purpose has gone, then what?”

I have no answer beyond the invasion. The extermination of the human lands.

I don’t offer it up as an answer because, now that I think on it, Dare never seems all that bloodthirsty about it. He simply believes it’s right. But his hunger for the destruction isn’t anything I’ve paid mind to. I’ve noticed more that he sketchessuns onto his hand, that he seems so faraway in his mind, forever searching but never finding.

“I worry most of all for you,” she whispers.

My lashes shut on fresh tears.

I turn my cheek to her horrible confessions. Ugly truths that I wish we didn’t speak.

It’s not my grief she’s concerned about. It’s how the grief in others will affect me. Target me. Ruin me.

Kill me.

“I…” My words fail before they have even really begun.

How does one delicately ask their soul sister not to die?

How does sayI am afraid for youwithout scaring her?

It’s impossible—this whole conversation is impossible.

“We all end up in the same place.” Those are the words I find, weak and drifting like a faint breeze. “I will find you there, sister. Whether soon, or centuries from now.” I look up at her. Wet lashes fringe my sight. “We will all find one another again.”

“I can hardly wait.” Her smile is so bitter, face tight. “That’s horrid, isn’t it? I only hold on for them. But I look forward to it. The moment I can finally let go of the tether I cling to.”

The chair creaks.

She shifts, reaches out for me. Her hand is a cold bite on mine.

Her grip firms, her gaze levelling with mine. “I’m grateful. If I hadn’t held on through these months, I wouldn’t have been blessed in the ways I have. You came into my life—and you opened up so much. Doors and windows and feelings. I have been freer with you than ever before.”

My gaze lands on our clasped hands.

I shake my head, a slight answer. “You speak like I gave you some light. Like you should be grateful for me. But Aleana,” Isigh and tighten my hold on hers, “I am the grateful one. To have met you, known you, loved you—it has been my absolute honour.”

My tongue doesn’t prickle.

My throat doesn’t tighten.

It’s no lie.

The sudden rattle of a tray shatters our moment.

I turn my chin to my shoulder just as the knock comes. Tris doesn’t wait to be called in. The door opens for her, and she balances a silver tray in her hands, stacked with sleep teas and biscuits and fruits.