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I froze. I’d touched her side where her kirtle was ripped and wet, and her skin was feverishly hot. When I pulled my hand away, it was sticky with gore.

I felt like I was falling from darkness into a deeper darkness, and there would never be any way out.Dear God, no.

“Hannah, it doesn’t pain me too much,” Mary whispered.

But I knew it was another lie.

“This is all my fault,” I said fiercely.

“No, it isn’t,” she said. “I wasn’t … supposed to come. I know that.”

“But you did, because you believed in me. And Otto did, and—” I couldn’t bear to say their names. My grief was suffocating me. “Where is everyone else? Are they here?”

“I don’t know,” Mary said. “I think they might be in another cell.” She reached for my hand and squeezed it weakly. “Hannah, will you … sing for me?”

“Sing?” I cried. “Mary, what reason do we have to sing? I’ve brought suffering to all of us!”

“It will comfort me,” she said. “Please.”

I didn’t think I could do it. Icy fingers of panic squeezed tootight around my heart.I cannot bear to lose her. If she dies, I will die, too.

“I want to hear the song you used to sing to me when I was little,” she said. “The one with the dancing stars.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to fill my lungs.All right, Mary. I’ll sing.But when I opened my mouth, out came a wordless, animal shriek.

CHAPTER 23

“Hannah!” Mary gasped. “Don’t—”

“Guards, help us!” I screamed. “We need a doctor! My sister’s hurt!”

Laughter came back to me, as hard and brutal as a blow. “Good for her, then! If I was you two, I’d get my dying done now, too,” growled someone on the other side of the wall. “For if you don’t, you’ll soon hang before a crowd.”

I was about to scream again—to plead for our lives, to promise anything in order to save us—but Mary put her small hand on my arm.

“Hannah,” she said softly. “Please, just sing.”

I didn’t want to sing. I wanted to save her. To saveus. “Mary, let me bind the wound first,” I urged. “It’ll only hurt worse for a moment. We have to stop the blood.”

She shook her head. “Please,” she said. “The lullaby.”

I licked my swollen lips. My mouth was dry, and my throat throbbed in pain. But Mary was telling me, without saying so outright, that singing was all there was to do. That it was the only help I could give.

I gently pulled her close, smoothing the tangled hair from her forehead as tears slipped down my cheeks and fell onto hers.

I’d sung the song to her for years, and together we’d sung it toBelin and Borin when they were little, cradling their soft heads in our laps the way I now held Mary’s.

Close your eyes, for night is nigh

A thousand stars dance in the sky

The redwing sings a song so sweet

There is no sorrow when you sleep

Hush my sweetling, and do not cry

God keeps you safe, and so do I.