Kai slowed his horse, allowing Kestrel to take the lead. Sterling rode with her while Seraiah’s mount kept pace beside them. The hood of Seraiah’s new cloak was pulled low over her face, so he couldn’t make out her expression, but he could tell from the hunched line of her shoulders that she must be worried.

He wasn’t surprised she’d forgotten about her vision of Ratha until now. Her main focus had been to rescue Sterling and anything unrelated was discarded. With all that had happened since then, he didn’t blame her for not mentioning it, especially because Seraiah wasn’t the only one keeping secrets by accident.

Kai still had the journal of the elven court seer on him. He’d been flipping through it the night everything had happened and without thinking, he must have slipped it into his pocket. It was so small and lightweight he hadn’t noticed it until some time later. By then, they’d been on a journey across the desert. Like Seraiah and her vision, he’d forgotten all about the little book.

When he’d rediscovered it after Sterling’s rescue, he’d meant to give it to Seraiah. He hadn’t read more than a few pages, but there might be something of use to her in it. Ever since he’d been waiting for the right moment, but it still hadn’t come. She was always with someone—usually Sterling, and he hadn’t wanted to intrude. Seraiah had been through so much to get her sister back, he could wait to give her the journal.

Perhaps after they’d reached Ratha and settled in, it would finally be time. They’d likely end up staying there for weeks, if not months, while they worked on Sterling’s training.

Yes, Kai decided, watching Seraiah’s back, they’d have plenty of time to talk in Ratha about the journal—and other things that had gone unsaid for too long.

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Sterling watched Seraiah from beneath her lashes as they weaved their way through the trees toward Ratha. It had been several days since they’d left Baromund, and they were well into the woods guarding Ratha’s western side. She hadn’t been sure how far they were from the city, but when she’d asked Kestrel, she’d been told they would arrive some time that day. Any moment now, Sterling expected to emerge from the trees and find the city spread out before them.

The idea did not fill her with excitement.

At first, she’d thought perhaps that meant something was wrong with her. However, now that she was watching Seraiah, she noticed her sister didn’t appear particularly excited, either.

Seraiah wore a lost look, eyebrows scrunched together and eyes glazed over in a way that told Sterling she wasn’t paying any attention to the world around her. She’d noticed Seraiah doing that more and more lately, withdrawing into herself. It was almost like the old days back when she’d have nightmares. Sterling was certain Seraiah would have told her if those had returned. Then again, she’d kept her vision about Papa to herself, so who knows?

Sterling's eyes wandered to the mark on Seraiah's neck. The blackness of it made even Seraiah's tanned skin seem pale in comparison.

Sterling remembered the way Ren had stripped off his gloves and raised his hands in the air moments before the skeletons had stepped out of the stone walls. She’d been so distracted by them she hadn't noticed the strange color of his skin. That had come later when he’d grabbed Seraiah, wrapping his fingers around her throat. His hands, that he’d always kept hidden beneath gloves, had been black—a sharp contrast to the rest of his pale skin. It was as though he had dipped them in ink and let it run halfway up his forearms.

After he’d let go of Seraiah, a bit of that ink had stayed behind on her skin. The smudges had grown, spreading across and down Seraiah's neck, bleeding together. The mark now stretched all the way from her left ear down to her collarbone. If Sterling squinted and turned her head just so, it almost looked like a vine, or maybe a snake curling along the contours of Seraiah's neck.

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As Sterling stared at it, contemplating what other shapes it could be, she swore she saw the thing move. It looked like it was crawling beneath Seraiah's skin.

"What—that can’t be right," Sterling murmured as she watched it stretch like a cat after a long nap.

"Hmm? Did you say something?" Seraiah asked, coming out of her trance.

"Nothing."

If Kestrel, whose horse Sterling was now sharing, had been paying attention and noticed Sterling’s lie, she kept quiet about it.

“Oh, I thought I heard . . . well, never mind,” Seraiah said, tugging on the edge of her cloak.

Sterling quickly looked away. She didn't want Seraiah to know she’d been staring at the mark again. Seraiah had become self-conscious about it whenever anyone brought it up. It was another reason for her sister to hate Ren.

No matter how many times Sterling had tried to defend him and explain how he’d been a friend to her or pointed out how he’d helped them defeat the other mages, Seraiah refused to hear it.

If only she had some way to find him or contact him. Then they could sort out this mess about the mark, and Seraiah could see Ren wasn’t the enemy she thought he was.

Sterling pursed her lips. If he was her enemy, he would have told someone about the time she’d tried to escape. He’d known what she was doing, and yet he’d pretended like he hadn’t.

He’d also been the only one willing to speak to her about anything. She’d found him irritating, of course—especially when he called her Silver—but at least he’d been willing to explain why her kidnappers were calling her Princess.

It had been Ren who’d told her the truth about who she really was.

"You’re not human. You're an elf," he’d said bluntly as they wound their way through the tunnels of the cave system. Sterling wasn't allowed to wander in the parts of the cave that were occupied by the mages, so Ren took her out to the empty parts, where she was free to explore to her heart's content.

She’d eyed him suspiciously, trying to determine if this was one of his jokes.

"Did you hear me?" he asked.

"I heard you. I'm trying to decide whether I believe you."

His lips quirked at her response. "It doesn't matter if you believe me or not. Your belief doesn't change the facts. You've got the pointy ears." He lifted one gloved hand and pointed to her exposed left ear.

"Is that why you kidnapped me? Did your little group need someone with pointy ears to sacrifice for their rituals?"

Ren rolled his eyes. "We don’t do sacrifices or rituals, and for the record, I didn't kidnap you or order your kidnapping."

"Right. It was the powers-that-be who ordered my kidnapping for some unknown reason, and you were a happy little minion and obliged them without question.”

Ren had pretended not to hear her.

"We’re home." Sterling heard Seraiah say, bringing her out of her memories.

She peeked over Kestrel’s shoulder, taking in the familiar buildings of her childhood. The sight filled her with inexplicable dread.

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Home. They were finally home.

The others had stopped at the edge of the trees, but Seraiah pushed on. Papa’s house—her house—wasn’t far from here. She guided her horse between the structures and onto the street.

She needed to see Papa and make sure he was all right.

It wasn’t until she’d reined in her horse in front of the house that she realized what she was seeing—or rather, what she wasn’t.

Seraiah slipped from the saddle.

No. It couldn’t be.

She took one stumbling step before her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees in the snow.

There was nothing. There was no one. The city was a ghost. An empty shell of a place. Ratha was as empty as Baromund had been. Its people gone without a trace.

Seraiah didn’t have to go into the house to know Papa wouldn’t be there.

Tears slid down her face as she stared at the front door, unseeing. The cold froze the salty drops to her cheeks before they could drip off her chin. Vaguely, she heard the footsteps of the others crunching over the snow behind her, but still, she didn't move. The cold bit painfully at her skin even through her layers of clothes, but that didn't matter to her anymore. The pain in her heart was worse and no physical discomfort could touch that. Guilt and its fanged teeth had finally devoured her heart, leaving nothing behind.

Someone came up behind her and touched her shoulder, but she didn't respond—didn't bother to see who it was.

There was a gaping hole where her heart had been. It was just as she’d feared. Her family, her friends, everyone she had known since birth, was gone.

If only she had tried harder to master her skills. Then maybe she could have saved them—prevented this somehow.

She should have done more.

It was her fault Sterling had been kidnapped. It was her fault Lonan was dead. It was her fault Papa and everyone else were gone.

Everything was her fault.