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“As far as I know, she didn’t even leave Teneris until we ran. She never went to the temple. Is this the only one engraving? Or are there more?”

“There are many more. The Joy Guardians have been having a hard time translating the English texts.”

She turned the bookmark in her hands over and over again as if the answers about Melanie’s fate were hidden in the strip of paper, ready to be discovered.

“I don’t understand… I saw her leave with my own eyes. She hesitated because she wanted me to come with her, but I didn’t want to leave Rha. Then she was pushed in and… did she come back somehow? Do you think she is here again?”

I shook my head.

“These writings are thousands of years old. The Joy Guardians have had them in their temple forever. They think their First Priestess of Joy wrote them. ”

Dawn smiled through the tears shining in her eyes.

“Knowing Melanie, she could’ve certainly become the Priestess and made the fae worship her. In fact, that’d probably be the only acceptable terms for her to stay here. So, do you think she came back?”

“And the River of Mists transported her thousands or even millions of years into the past? She then either became friends with the First Priestess or became her herself? Who’s to know?” I spread my arms.

“You said there were texts in English that we can translate? There have to be some answers there. If Melanie wrote them…” She looked stunned, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.

“She came back… I can’t believe it. She wanted to return home so badly.

Why would she come back? Do you think she wasn’t happy in our world? Or was she forced to return?”

There was no way to tell for sure, of course, not at least until we knew more from the surviving texts. But I recognized a need for reassurance in Dawn’s voice.

“Maybe she came back because she missed you?” I said.

“Missed me?” Dawn exhaled a humorless laugh. “That was not the relationship we had.”

Dawn and Melanie had always been different, even as children. A lot could’ve happened in the thirteen years that I wasn’t there too. But I knew they always cared about each other’s well-being.

“Remember when she pushed a boy for pulling your hair so hard he made you cry?”

“He punched her in the eye for that.” She cringed.

“And she brought him in front of the parent council and gave a speech about why and how he should be punished for that.”

“She had a slideshow and color charts to go with her presentation. And she was only in fourth grade back then!” Dawn laughed, and I loved seeing a smile on her face again.

“You know she would’ve made an excellent lawyer,” I said. “But she calculated the cost of law school early on and decided that the business education was cheaper and quicker to get. She wanted to get her degree faster and start earning sooner.”

Dawn nodded. “She did that. She took classes every summer and graduated from her university a year sooner than her class.”

“Do you know why?”

Dawn huffed. “Because Melanie has always been bossy and ambitious. She couldn’t wait to start climbing the corporate ladder. That was all she lived for. Even the night we were taken, she kept worrying about some work presentation she was supposed to do.”

“She always worried,” I agreed. “She worried about everything. After my mom died and they found out that your mom had the same gene?—”

“Wait a minute. They knew my mom was going to die before she even got sick?”

“We knew there was a high chance of that happening but, you know…the hope was always there?—”

“Why did no one tell me? I didn’t even know how bad things were with her until her last days.”

“Did she pass while I was gone?” I asked in a strangled voice.

Dawn nodded with her gaze down.

“Dad did too,” she muttered softly. “They’re all gone now.”

Her chin trembled. And I felt like the older cousin once again, wrapping her in my arms.

“We didn’t tell you because we tried to protect you, Dawn.” I pressed my cheek to her soft hair. “Everyone always tried to shield you from the worst.”

“Why?” she asked with a shuddering breath.

“Because you were the baby in the family. No one wished to upset you. Besides, it made us all feel better to see you smiling and happy even when things were going really shitty.”

“But Melanie knew?”

“She did. She was older, and she somehow always felt responsible for your family, even when she was very small. The last time I talked to her heart to heart was during my last summer back home before I moved to the city with Dylan.” I heaved a sigh, but thoughts about my life’s worst mistake didn't hurt nearly as much as they used to.

“Melanie was only thirteen at that time, but she already knew she wanted to study business. She said she wanted to learn how to make lots of money. And when I asked her what she was planning to do with all that money, she said she would buy a big house where all of us could live together—your family and me. She said I would read you stories and you could dance for all of us. I asked what if Dawn wanted to live in her own house. She said that you may not be able to have one because not all dancers are paid well. Then I said maybe you would quit dancing and do something else. And she laughed. She said you would never quit dancing, that you loved it more than anything, and that you should be able to keep doing it because the world needs dancers too.”

“That’s not how she talked about dance when she got older,” Dawn said.

“Maybe things change. But not as much as we think. Deep inside, the connection to the children we once were is always there. Sometimes it just takes a little reflection to find it again. Trust me. I know. I’ve done a lot of thinking lately.

But regardless of why Melanie came back, she thought about you when she got here.

See?” I pointed at the bookmark clutched in Dawn’s hand.

“Her note that the entire civilization of the shadow fae has admired as words of encouragement and inspiration throughout their history was really meant to comfort you . Melanie always loved you, even when she didn’t show it well. ”

A tear fell from her eyelashes and rolled down her cheek.

“Aww, don’t cry, baby cousin.” I hugged her tighter.

“I’m twenty-five,” she sniffled, burying her face in my shoulder. “You’re the baby cousin now.”

That was true. In a weird turn of events, my baby cousin was now three years older than me. But right now, when she sobbed on my shoulder like this, to me, she remained the little girl who cried when she fell from her tricycle and scraped her knee .

“It’s okay,” I murmured, stroking her back soothingly. “You can still be my baby cousin whenever you need a shoulder to cry on. You’re my only family, Dawn. It’s just you and me now.”

“It’s more than I thought I had. Ciana, I thought you were dead. How did you escape Kalmena?”

“Oh, that’s a long story.”

Jotti returned, bringing a plate of rice with meat and vegetables for me.

“Greetings, Lady Dawn.” She bowed. “Would you like me to bring a dish for you too?”

“Thank you, but I’ve already eaten.” Dawn pulled me by my hand toward the sitting cushions by one of the fountains.

Jotti waited for us to sit down before placing the tray with food in my lap.

“You have to tell me everything.” Dawn said to me after Jotti left. “I’m so freaking happy you’re here. But how did you know to come to Teneris?”

“Elaine told me to come here.”

“You saw Elaine?” She stared at me, startled.

“She really is your friend, isn’t she? And I didn’t believe her. It’s still so hard for me to wrap my mind around it all.”

“But you know Elaine, Ciana. You’ve seen her. Remember? She was at my birthday party at the movie theater that you came to, the year before you left. A short girl with glasses in a corduroy bib coverall. Elaine went through a long phase of love for corduroy in elementary school.”

Now that she described her, I remembered Elaine as the adorable, quiet girl with pigtails who ate too many cupcakes at the party, then asked me where the bathroom was.

“I remember,” I said. “But she’s changed since. No corduroy and no glasses. And over a decade older. I didn’t recognize her.”

“She lost her glasses. She can hardly see without them…” Dawn’s bottom lip trembled. She swallowed hard, composing herself. “I’m worried sick about her. They took her by the temple where the portal was open. Where did you see her? ”

“In the camp of the low lives who catch and sell people. Elaine and I shared a cage.”

“Oh, my God.” Dawn gripped her throat. “How can they treat people like that?”

“We’re not people to them, Dawn. They see us as sources of pleasure to be sold, consumed, and traded.”

A shudder ran through me at the memory of the hyacinth tea and what it did to Peter and Maria. But I decided not to tell Dawn about that yet. She seemed too upset already.

“Where is Elaine now? Do you know?” she asked.

“They took her somewhere. I believe they’re planning to sell her and the others.”

Dawn paled in horror. “Sell to whom? Where?”

“That I don’t know. The fae who brought us in may be able to help with identifying the location better, since they know the geography of Alveari better than I do, though I’ve spent enough time in the desert to last a lifetime.”

“They said you walked for a long time and were in bad shape. You must be starving. You have to eat.” She gestured urgently at the food on my plate.

I picked up a piece of some vegetable and put it in my mouth. I was hungry, but after chewing, I could hardly swallow it. Worry and anxiety gripped my throat, making it too tight for the food to pass.

“I’m not hungry,” I said, putting the plate aside.

My stomach spasmed in protest. It always felt so empty lately, it could probably pack an entire garden of vegetables, but I couldn’t focus on food right now.

Dawn squinted at me with concern. “When was the last time you ate a hot meal?”

“Um…” I tried to remember. “About two weeks ago. Back in Kalmena.”

“Oh, Ciana! You need to eat.”