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Her home, her lover, her baby…

Ryon.

She could bring to mind his name but not his face. Not the exact shade of his skin and eyes and hair. Not the feel of his weight on her chest. She had to find it. Had to find that memory.

No,she thought.Wait.

Sleep,the whispers told her gently, hushing her. Her eyelids were shuttered so tightly she could not move them.

But she could find the seam of her lips, could prise them open. She gulped, expecting to choke on whatever substance trapped her, but found it as gentle, as fortifying as air.

She breathed again.

Suddenly, she was pulled, not along the current, but out of it, in the opposite direction.

Her face felt the sting of the cold and she was abruptly hauled onto stone.

She blinked and the Glacian palace took shape once more. She lay on her side, immediately noticing the absence of injury, of pain.

Beside her, the Pool of Iskra swirled, glowing impetuously, as though it had been cheated.

“Your first task in your repentance is upon you, Phineas,” Vasteel’s voice rang out, reverberating in her ears. “Send her into the Chasm. I have a new set of wings to hang on my walls.”

She watched the distant shapes of Vasteel and his nobles depart and a cold hand reached beneath her upper arm.

“Stand,” said a hollow, broken voice.

She turned her head and looked up. Phineas stared back at her, the tresses of his long hair falling into his face, but not concealing the alarm that struck him.

And despite the fresh panic blossoming inside her, she levelled her stare, her bottom lip trembling. “Try to throw me into the Chasm,” she whispered. “And I will drag you in with me.”

Phineas’ breath left him. His eyes widened in awe. “Farra?”

In response, Farra merely glared.

“Don’t speak!”Phineas rasped suddenly, eyes darting around the throne room. “Do as I say. Anddo nottry to run.” It was spoken in a rush, his lips barely moving as he uttered the demand.

It was only then that Farra remembered how the pool had made the other humans lame, had sucked the will from their bodies.

“They’rewatching,”Phineas murmured to her, so low she had to focus on his lips to understand him. “Stand.”

There was little choice in the matter. There was only this, the friend of a Glacian who had sired her child, and the hope of his lingering loyalty.

She stood.

“Walk,” he said, a little louder now, as though it were not for her benefit.

She walked, wondering if the tremor she felt was showing on the outside, whether the walls of her chest could withstand the pounding of her heart, whether her throat would collapse amidst the pressure that gripped it. She wanted to cry. Wanted to scream or run.

“Don’t,” Phineas whispered, gripping her arm tighter. “Trust me.”

An impossible ask.

He led her out of the throne room and down a wide hall, down a stairwell, until it opened to a tunnel. A tunnel that led them to the ice plane before the Chasm.

“What will you do with me?” she whispered to Phineas.

He only gave her a look of warning and swallowed hard.