“That should be the least of your concerns, Veaer.”

  The voice sounded like an echo, going through tunnels and coming out the other side something else than it had started as.

  She pressed her palms to her eyes. She needed sleep—could the butterflies build her a giant cocoon to just disappear and never need to think or wonder or question again? Time was easily paralysed in a room of nothing except weird brown and bugs, but her breaths kept track of every second anyway.

  The door is locked. I could break the lock. There should be a secret tunnel or something around here. There’s one from the outside but it leads to the wrong places. Maybe I can climb out this window, but how quickly would someone be notified and drag me back? I could test it and deal with the consequences, but they may move me somewhere else without a window.

  I hope Haiwrin is okay. He got hurt—because of me? But it wasn’t really me. But maybe he wouldn’t have felt so distressed if I told him what happened. People act out when they’re confused and don’t know everything. He didn’t deserve what happened to him. I’ll need to make it up to him. Agree to his apartment in the town if I get out of here. No, not if. When I get out of here.

  I still don’t understand how I woke up in the graveyard. I hope nothing went down my skirt. It wasn’t even my skirt. It belonged to those students. What did they hit me with? A bat? Why was that their choice? Where did they even keep it?

  What was Elise’s intention? How involved was she in all this? Did she trick me from the very start? She gave me the journal to keep in a safe place; it was my fault for leaving it out on my desk. That just made it easy for them to find it. And why would Elise give me Tychon’s handkerchief? Did she simply forget it was his, or was she keeping it with her until he came back, but then she saw I needed it and decided to do a nice gesture. There has to be an explanation for all this. She had to have a reason. Just not the reason everyone is assuming. She loves me, I love her. Together, we are safe. They can’t hurt us as long as—

  “Veaer, patrons above, shut up!”

  “Sorry,” Veaer said aloud as she stared at a shape in the wallpaper, but she swore the yell came from within her own head. She hadn’t told herself to shut up before. Her thoughts often got somewhere, eventually.

  “Just—” The voice became gentler and warmer. Much warmer. Veaer blinked and then took off her blazer. She folded it and looked around for a place to put it. The floor would do for now. “Please. Be quiet. I can’t find you if you’re going on like that.”

  “Find me? Why are you looking for me? I didn’t ask you…” She pursed her lips, as if incentivised by an invisible force. Maybe it was better that she didn’t know what was happening.

  “Exactly. That’s exactly right. The less you know, the better I can concentrate. The fewer factors there are to worry about.”

  Focused voice, intense. Slightly strained on the edges. A slow pace she was familiar with in homeroom and when she used to take literature classes just for fun. She could almost see the narrowed eyes and almost hear the murmuring undercurrent of a caemi memorising quotes for an essay.

  Adair.

  “I’m sorry.” Veaer perched her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands. Despite everything, her lovely Adair was still looking for her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  “You already said that.” Their voice tapered off at the end, like a connection fizzling over a landline.

  She took a deep breath and shook her head, but she knew Adair couldn’t see it. Instead, she shifted off the stool and laid down on her side. It was easier to fall asleep if a wooden circle wasn’t digging into her backside. The butterflies looked funny like this. Even the brown was a little different. She closed her eyes.

  Then she was awoken by a flurry of urgent footsteps coming from down the hall. They weren’t dragging like they didn’t want to be here, or stomping like they had to show everyone who they were from their presence, or marching like they were trained to walk like they followed their commander everywhere.

  It was enough of a difference for her to open her eyes and sit up. She combed through her hair with her fingertips and unfolded her blazer pillow to put it on again. The curtains beckoned her to open them, to see what time it was, but she feared that she had missed everything and the blazing sun would shock her eyes.

  She was met with silence for several moments by the time she sat on the stool again, in case it was the detective there to check on her again. Had she just imagined it? There were no more butterflies in the room.

  But then the doorknob started to turn, as if teasing her for not believing her senses and leaving it all up in the air for her to wonder about again and again.

  The knob started shaking. The person on the other side didn’t have a key, so it wasn’t the detective.

  “Whoever you are, get away!” Veaer yelled and contemplated throwing the stool at the door. But if it broke, then she really wouldn’t have anywhere to sit. “I don’t know what you want but I’m under the protection of Detective— uh…” Shit. She hadn’t gotten her name.

  There was no response, and a strong urge to shut her lips overwhelmed her. Shaking, shaking, herself and the doorknob. Until it stopped.

  A thud, and something heavy rolled across the carpet from the other side of the door. Veaer backed into the wall as much as she could. Maybe she could blend in. Maybe the butterflies would really help her hide now. Please, please, please.

  The door swung open, and a figure of blazing red and orange hair appeared with a quiet cackle.

  “Adair?” Veaer’s mouth hung open before it morphed into a smile, and she dashed for her friend. Her gaze was still in more than one place in case this was all a trick of the mind. She decided on placing one hand on their shoulder to confirm their existence. “You’re here. How did you—” Her ears perked up in anticipation of yelling and clamouring to her office of holding, but there was only peace. “What did you do?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Adair replied—and their tone was genuine as far as she could tell. There was no sarcasm or tricky look in their eyes. So many eyes. A blast of heat made her cough and reorient herself. The giant wings had returned, sprouting out of Adair’s back. But Adair hadn’t flinched even once, as if the wings, eyes, and rings were there the whole time. “The hardest part was finding where they put you.”

  “But—” Veaer removed her hand and stepped forward, but Adair easily blocked the doorway with their wingspan. “The detective and the officers… the faculty? How did you get past them? They wouldn’t just leave me alone here.”

  Adair shook their head and took Veaer’s hand. “Veaer, this isn’t the admin building.”

  “I was just there!”

  “If you were in the admin building, finding you would’ve been the easiest task. It was the first place I looked.”

  “Then… then…” Veaer ripped her hand away from Adair’s grip and ran for the curtains, pulling them apart only to find more wall. And when the question of why curtains would come with no window came to mind, the velvet disintegrated in her palms and fell past her fingers. What was left was an excuse for a painted wall, not even with wallpaper. “Where am I?”

  Adair looked to the side and Veaer asked again, more adamantly. This could change everything if she hadn’t slept the night away.

  “Underground.” They paused and their eyes wandered here and there. “Izot announced that you were arrested, earlier. And as much as you did a horrible, horrible thing in keeping the truth from everyone, you also weren’t holding the knife when it happened.” A blaze ignited from the top of their being and found their feathery wings as fuel. Veaer gasped at the magnificent display until Adair screamed and fell to their knees.

  “Wait, what’s happening? Is this not meant to happen?” Veaer dropped to the floor and reached out, but just the outer edges of the flames hurt her, and she pulled back with a hiss.

  Adair screeched like nothing Veaer had heard before and she covered her ears.

  “Goodness, no. No, no. It’s not, argh!” Bones cracked and muscles ripped, the sound all the more louder as it bounced off the walls outside.

  “No…” Veaer echoed, realisation dawning on her. “You said you didn’t have it… you couldn’t do it again. You don’t have the capacity—you, you… why did you take this form again when you couldn’t even help Haiwrin?”

  “Don’t you dare bring him up now,” Adair managed through gritted teeth, their wings wrapping tightly around the two of them and sharp, long fangs showing when they let out another screech. “Listen, Veaer, I did this because I’m stupid. And I’m stupid because I— I couldn’t bear to know you were going to be taken away, for something you didn’t do, when she is still out there. And I didn’t know how else I could find you in time without—this.” The fire began to smoulder but dark smoke took its place. “Ve… Veaer, please listen, please.”

  “I’m listening,” Veaer cried, and a flood of tears drenched her shirt. As much as it burned, she pulled Adair’s face closer in her palms. Beautiful eyes, beautiful jewels. “I’m listening, Addie. Tell me.”

  “Veaer, she’s at the cathedral. I don’t know what she’s going to do, but Harq told me it would bring them back. A young Kitt Thawan and Tychon. You can’t let that happen. The world always balances, it has a way to take as much as it gives.” Their wings fell to dust, one feather at a time. “You must fix this. You know you must.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” She squeezed Adair’s soft face tighter, to keep them together, to keep them from going too. “I can’t leave you like this.”

  Adair took a deep breath and from their lips came dust and smoke. “I will be okay. With time and rest—and I have time.” They lifted their hands to Veaer’s cheeks, stained with dark ashes. Their eyes roamed her and peeled away layers of hurt, guilt, and grief. All that was left of the two of them were tiny, little kids, not ready for what the world had to give to them. “Oh lovely angel, I’m stupid. A stupid creature in love. And I know you may never want to accept that. You may never want to take from me. But know this, Veaer Rosell, that I did this because I love you.”

  “Don’t say that,” Veaer sobbed, messy and raw, clinging to Adair and what was left of their wings. “Don’t say what you don’t mean.”

  “I mean it, I truly do.” Adair closed the gap and pressed their lips together. Ash and salt, all in one.

  CHAPTER 42

  THE LAST HOUR

  The cathedral entrance cracked open with both hands pushing, revealing an empty lobby. Sombre classical music spilled from under the next set of doors, making everything feel all the more intrusive.

  Veaer took a deep breath, incense wafting through her, providing enough courage for her to commit to revealing what came next.

  The doors to the guts of the cathedral groaned in protest and a collective breath was held from the other end of the hall. Her path was lined with floating candles, dripping and forming stalagmites of wax, setting unease into her being as thick pillars towered over her. They were in throes of magic, that which shouldn't have been possible above ground, but she had witnessed enough in the last weeks that, rather than question the candles’ nature, she hoped they wouldn't come after her and set her ablaze.

  The carpet didn’t do much to soften her steps as each one thumped loudly under her skin. High pitched singing shook her ear drums and she jolted with an urge to cover her ears. Even so, her arms remained stiff by her sides.

  The song continued to play, and she passed pew after pew.

  Her gaze was set on one girl with long black hair and dressed in her light robes, turned away and busying her attention with a no name order member who helped draw a circle around the altar. The chalk touched the edge of what was previously Tychon’s circle in front of the altar, invisible to most but so bright and clear to her.

  Harq was sitting with his back to her in one of the front pews, and a small group of anonymous protectors were standing nearby holding candles and jewels, staring right at Veaer for her unwelcome entrance.

  “Elise!” Veaer screamed with her entire chest. To chase away her fear, to take up her space despite the high vaulted ceiling and sharp eyes sent her way. She staggered out of the shadows. The princess turned to meet her.

  “Oh, Veaer.” A bright smile beamed on Elise’s face, sharp at the edges and full of shiny teeth. She held out her arms as if to pull Veaer even closer, up onto the altar platform. “You made it.”

  “You…!” She could barely manage another word without her throat closing up on her. All that time to prepare and she hadn’t done so. Her gaze flitted to Elise’s hand, peeking out from behind her back. A ritual knife. “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “I had thought you got lost along the way,” Elise continued in a quiet voice but her look towards Harq was undeniable. “You must give me a moment to process this.”

  Veaer stepped back as Elise revealed her knife in the light for everyone to see. No one gasped, no one screamed. They all watched her sway the knife before she extended her hand to the white clothed altar and placed it down.

  Veaer made herself to concentrate on the girl in white, the orange glow of the candles forming a type of halo, an object anything but warming. Beautiful crystals jingled on Elise’s ears, neck, wrists, and ankles. Her hair was as silky as ever, her skin calling for Veaer to bite down and devour. Veaer remembered the way her breath sat in her throat when she made her way to Elise’s room and stole that necklace to prove something—to Elise or herself. She remembered when she would admire Elise from a distance, and when she was up close in a fencing mask, against a tree, among pretty bed sheets.

  The day they found the crypts was the best day of her life. It was that day that told her life was worth continuing—to discover and to explore and to love. She had savoured the warm exhales of Elise when they bent against bark and brought their lips together. When they had something in this part of the world and everything was theirs, forever and always.

  “You and me, Veaer Rosell. You and me.”

  “Veaer, you haven’t been entirely honest with me.” Elise ran her finger along the altar and picked at a dot of dust. “Why must I tell you about this when there very well was a chance you weren’t even going to be here?” She laughed before Veaer could even rebuke her statement. She was here now, didn’t that matter? “Darling, come here.”

  But I want you to tell me. This is important, and aren’t I important too? Yet she couldn’t bring the words to her tongue as she watched Elise’s arms open again, begging for Veaer to take her perfect place and be a perfect lover. No need to ask questions, no need to meet every choice with a question.

  She took it a step at a time and when she joined Elise on the altar platform, everything didn’t seem so scary anymore. She was tall and brave and knew how to be good so she wouldn’t be sent away again.

  Elise wrapped her arms tightly around Veaer and drew her lips closer to her ear. “The world is ours,” she said. “There’s no need to worry,” she said. “We’re not so tiny anymore. I don’t need anything to show me how powerful we are. We can do anything we want.”

  Veaer held her breath. She wanted to take Elise’s words and bathe in them. Scrub them in until they became a film of suds that seeped into her skin and kept her nourished. But even then, the music was too loud and there were too many eyes, and Harq walked up to them and set a firm hand on each of their shoulders.

  “We need to get started.” Harq squeezed Veaer’s shoulder with a slight pull. “The hour doesn’t give us a wide window for all that we need to do.” His voice sounded distant as Veaer stared at Elise for her prompt.

  The princess swept her arm against Veaer’s stomach, gentle enough to be a caring gesture but firm enough for Veaer to stumble back cautiously and find herself climbing down from the platform.

  She swallowed as the protectors came forward and lit candles around the altar. A shiver crawled up her spine, her eyes darting between each order member. They all looked the same, too similar, and which ones would be involved in this ritual was impossible to discern.

  Each movement towards the altar had Veaer sharpening her senses, and each glance from Harq lent barely a hint towards what she should do with herself. Completing an order, renewing a legacy, and following the footsteps of a young man who didn’t live long enough to know life as his idols once did.

  Everyone here had a role to play—everyone but her.

  She lingered in the aisle and the events in front of her played out like a slow motion movie. The protectors positioned themselves outside the chalk circle, one of them, no name, no face, stepped up and removed their cloak to reveal a white robe that wasn’t so different from the one Elise wore. The music turned bitter in the midst of chanting, low and droning, putting her in a trance.

  She dug her nails into the palm of her hands as she forced the counting in her head to stop.

  The lives of Kitt and Tychon. If she were able to go back with the mind she had now, would she change the past, present and future? Ensure two young souls could live on because she wasn’t holding the knife, but she may as well have been. She hadn’t known them very well before they left this plane of existence, and maybe she wasn’t meant to know.

  Perhaps she would have watched and let it happen again—because every choice, every moment, led to what was now. She feared for what an altered life would summon, how it would change the course of her childhood, adolescents, and what was placed by the universe to have her standing on prickly carpet, deprived of sleep and sense, watching a girl murder in the way justice formed in her hands and mind.

  The crack of a slap across her cheek sent her crumpling against a wooden pew, pawing for the armrests to steady herself but instead finding herself staring at the spinning vaulted ceiling.

  She didn’t shriek, didn’t gasp. Just laid on the carpet and wondered who hit her. Harq? For not doing a task she didn’t have the instructions for? Or maybe a protector, for not respecting their upcoming sacrifice to the holy angels above. It could’ve been Elise, punishing her for even humouring the idea of a different future. Because it was them against the world, and the world was theirs.