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When Kaelis returns, Arina’s bones are wrapped tightly in his jacket, knotted securely in the garment of a man whom I could blame for her death.

I cradle her bones in my arms, clutching them to my chest so none come loose.

I hold her one last time as we backtrack through the rooms the Fool designed to keep people out of his workshop.

We’re careful once more underneath the Duskrose.

But the traps are disarmed heading from the opposite direction, so we pass through the first three rooms with ease.

Though I don’t have the energy or will to marvel at it.

I’m sorry, whispers every beat of my heart. I’m sorry, echoes every footstep through the academy’s passageways as we emerge out from the warded depths. Reason fights against emotion. My sister was a force to be reckoned with. As raw and wild as magic itself. She deserved so much better than this.

Staggering, I lean against the wall, doubling over and burying my face into Kaelis’s jacket.

It smells of him, and of soil, and sweet, deadly pollen that makes me drowsy with the mere aroma.

There’s not a hint of the rosemary oil Arina would braid through her hair.

Of the lavender lotions she’d begun using because they reminded her of Jura’s cookies.

Kaelis stops, too. He rests a hand on my shoulder, like a breaker against the waves of grief. A pillar I can lean on until I collect enough strength to lift myself once more and carry on.

“We can stop,” he whispers.

“No…I have to take her home.” Not that I know where “home” is for us. It’s not Rot Hollow. The club is gone. Arina might have never even been to the townhome before…but it’s all we have. It will become her home now. “Please, keep leading us to the city.”

With a solemn nod, the prince carries on, leading us on a path through the academy I’ve never cut before. The secret way out was behind a tapestry all along. It connects with another interior bridge tunnel—this time within the big bridge.

I found it. At long last, Arina, I found your passage out. We’ll go across together.

The tunnel lets out into a small mausoleum in a graveyard at the edge of Eclipse City on the rise to the bridge that connects with the academy. The lock on the door is broken, something Kaelis clearly notes but says nothing about. I take the lead as we enter Eclipse City proper.

The walk to the townhome seems to take forever, and yet it also feels like it’s over in an instant.

I’m standing on the doorstep, staring helplessly at the door. Silas always got us into the building…I don’t even have a key. Kaelis knocks on my behalf. I can’t bring myself to loosen my grip on the bundle.

After a long pause, Gregor opens the door. His eyes flick from me to Kaelis. Something between shock and anger and pure hate furrows his brow.

“You—”

“It’s Arina,” I interrupt his righteous indignation.

Even if I told them my imprisonment wasn’t Kaelis’s fault, they will always be suspicious of him, and for good reason.

They know the rumors about the prince. They will hold their grudges against the crown that he embodies.

Perhaps even more so now because of the burden I am carrying.

“Arina? What about her?” Gregor says hastily, focus solely back onme.

“It’s Arina.” I lift the bundle a little higher. I can manage only those two words right now. Anything more and my voice will shatter.

Gregor’s brow furrows, and it takes him an agonizingly long time to understand.

I shift the fabric, exposing a pale bone.

His hand flies to his mouth to muffle an immediate sob of grief.

He looks like a mountain crumbling. But his hand cannot stop the tears that spill from his eyes.

He stumbles, knocking into a wall so hard the foundation of the townhome trembles.

“I…She deserves a proper burial,” I force myself to say.

Gregor moves aside, still unable to speak. Kaelis and I let ourselves inside.

“A star has fallen!” Gregor booms up, voice cracking with pain.

The Starcrossed Club. Each of us like little points in the sky, once so far apart, yet drawn together like constellations. And when one of us leaves for good, we fall from that sky. A life cut too short, a sparkling map that will never be the same. The design forever changed.

The others rush down, gathering on the stairs. They halt, enveloped in a stunned silence at the vision of me—with Kaelis.

“It’s Arina,” I say yet again, louder this time, though it’s still just as painful to say it. Every time I repeat her name I’m ripped apart a little bit more.

“What…?” Jura pushes past Twino and Gregor to get to me. I silently hold out the bundle, and she undoes the knot. The moment she uncovers an unseeing eye of the bony skull, she collapses, knees giving out. Jura lets out a wail that speaks for us all.

“She…She…” I struggle to find words. I’m losing my own composure—what little I’d scraped together.

“We will bury her.” Bristara stands at the top of the stairs. Ever the rock of our club, she gives her orders.

It takes an hour to prepare for the burial, and we wander the townhome like ghosts. Arina’s bones rest quietly before the crackling fire of the lounge on the bed of Kaelis’s jacket. Jura has set out a pot of tea for her alongside the cookies Arina loved so well.

Gregor is in the small, walled backyard of the townhome, digging. Ren crosses through the hall with a large flowerpot in hand—a white lily. Twino is upstairs, preparing remarks.

As for me, I stay by her side. She’s been alone for far too long already, and these are my final moments with her. So I stare at what’s left of my sister as I keep my vigil.

It shouldn’t have been you, I repeat over and over in my mind, never you. I would’ve endured a thousand years of Halazar if it meant you’d keep living .

Kaelis stands in the corner, a silent observer and sentry. A shadow that is not quite welcome in the throes of our grief but also has nowhere else to be.

“Second son of Oricalis,” Bristara says briskly as she enters. “Make yourself comfortable in the front study.”

It’s odd to see Kaelis ordered around, and even stranger to see him heed the command without so much as a remark. But he does cast one last concerned glance my way. I don’t have the energy to give him anything in return.

Bristara closes the doors behind him and crosses to the sofa opposite me, Arina between us on the table.

“It’s my fault,” I whisper.

“Death always feels that way.” Bristara’s voice is not overly warm. It never is. But it’s sincere in her own manner.

“I was the one encouraging her…setting a horrible example by always taking on more jobs. We kept one-upping each other. Outdoing. Pushing each other to never give up.” Like the job that got me caught. “She—”

“Wasn’t a child, no matter how you saw her.

Arina was a woman who made her own choices, just as you are.

And we both know she was just as reckless as you, if not more so,” Bristara interjects.

I slump, knowing it’s true. Hating that it is.

Accepting all the blame for this would be easier.

“Though I fear for where those choices are leading you. The Oricalis family is not to be trusted, no matter what they might tell you.”

“ He might tell me, you mean,” I clarify, lacking the patience to dance around what she’s actually saying.

Bristara purses her lips slightly.

“I know the dangers,” I insist.

“I thought you did, but now…”

“Now what ?” Agitation rips through me, rapidly riding the current of my grief.

“You brought him to our sanctuary. First Silas, now the second-born prince himself.”

“I’ll kill him myself before I let him become a danger to any of you.” My hands ball into fists.

“Are you sure about that?”

“You don’t think I’m capable?”

“Do you have the capacity? Yes. Do you have the will?” She shifts and leans back slightly. “I wonder.” I swallow down a sharp retort. The assessment is fair. “Was he not the one to lead you to her bones?”

“We happened upon them.” I can’t help the defensive edge in my voice.

“In passageways I reason only he knew of? Since you did not find Arina on your own.”

I know what Bristara is alluding to. “It wasn’t him who killed her.”

“Are you certain?”

I hang my head and rub my palms in my eyes. “He was just as surprised as I was.”

“Can you be so sure?” Bristara lets the question hover.

I have no answer. “That man owns the madhouse you’re living in, top to bottom.

He controls its teachings, its food, its entertainment, what is on- and off-limits, everything.

If he wanted to lie or fabricate a story, would you be able to tell the difference in a place where his truth can become reality? Do you really believe him?”

“He…”

Bristara won’t hear my objection. “Clara, he is the cause of all the pain we’ve experienced.”

“He is as much one of his father’s subjects as we are.”

“Do you hear yourself?” She shakes her head with disgust.

“He is trying to rebuild something better.” I can see that she doesn’t believe me. Emphasizing it doesn’t seem to help, but I do it anyway. “ He is. ”

“Forgive me if I cannot trust the man who benefits from the systemsaying he’ll willingly tear it down.

” The statement sounds so much like my own months ago.

How have I changed so much? “I know far more about the Oricalis family than you realize. More than you’ve been privy to, even while getting close to the prince.

” We share a hard stare. Neither of us moves.

Bristara’s gaze is the first to soften. There’s an almost motherly look in it that serves only to agitate me more.

“Ihope you’re right, Clara. I really, truly do. And I want to believe in you.”

“Then believe in me.”

“You make it hard when you inspire new doubts in me with every choice you make.”

“I messed up with Griv, I know I did.”