I shake my head. “No. No, you’re just asleep. You were enchanted—cursed, really, into a magical slumber. Those who enchanted you wished to use you, partially so you could realm-walk, partially to…”

“To what?”

I take a breath. “Partially to punish me.”

There’s nothing but dread in her expression, like there’s something she desperately doesn’t want me to say.

“Why would my fate be a punishment to you?” she asks.

“Because I’m your…family.” I’m not sure why I omit that I’m her brother, her twin. Maybe it’s because it makes it sound all the worse that I’ve spent years torturing her. When she gives me a look that says “family” is too vague a word for her liking, I add, “Your twin.”

“Twins are Fates-cursed to ruin one another,” she whispers.

I grimace. “That is a superstition they hold in our world.”

She shakes her head. “Yours isn’t the only one. If you’re my brother, and if that actually matters to you, why do you feed on me?”

I fumble for the words, but they get caught in my throat. “My master seeks to punish me when I step out of line. She already has you captive, so I suppose she had to get more creative with her punishments. When I behave in a way she finds particularly displeasing, she locks me in a room with you until I break.”

Zora’s chin twitches. “And then?”

“And then I feed on you until she deems it time to end my punishment.”

Zora looks at her toes, swallowing. “And what’s her purpose for me? The realm-walking, I mean. What’s my mission?”

I blink, stunned a bit. “Your mission?”

Zora chews at her cheek. “My mission. My purpose. What am I supposed to do with my lives? What are they all for?”

The anxiety, the longing that sneaks into her words, stirs something aching within me.

“I’m not entirely sure,” I admit. “My master’s magic isn’t like some of the other rulers’. Hers comes by knowledge more than an innate gift. I think knowledge makes her feel secure. I imagine she wishes to glean information about other realms from your experiences.”

Zora blinks, shifts her weight, then swallows. “That’s it? That’s all I was supposed to do? Gather information?”

I crane my head at her, confused by her reaction. “I’m not entirely sure. The queen never really gave me that information. I didn’t even know you were realm-walking until recently. Why is what she wants important to you?”

“It’s not,” she says, and the words bite. Her gaze flits to the horizon, and I know before she opens her mouth what she just witnessed.

“Zora, you have to get me out of here. When the sun comes up, I’m going to burn.”

“So? You’ll just go back to our home realm, right?” She’s pacing again, and it makes me nervous.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” I search for roots, vines, anything to get me out of this pit.

She scoffs, which I suppose is understandable.

“Besides, I don’t think you want to end up alone on this island with Farin,” I say.

She whips her head back in my direction. “I can’t say I’m all that afraid of him when he’s not the one who tortures me in my nightmares.”

My legs are shaking of their own accord now, fidgeting with nervous energy as my eyes search and fail to find any footholds that might help me out of this pit. I might be able to hide in the shade for a moment, but even the shade would be subject to some amount of sunlight. If I’m interpreting my internal calculations and Zora’s flickering gaze correctly, I only have a few minutes.

“Zora, please. Please trust me,” I say, because it’s the only thing I have left. Not logic. Not reason. Just the hope that somewhere in my twin’s heart, there’s a bond that won’t allow me to die.

Not that the bond has ever kept me from almost killing her during Abra’s punishments.

I ingest the shame that’s threatening to overtake me and stare into my sister’s eyes. She rips her gaze away and crosses her arms, but then her shoulders slump.

“Fine,” she says. “But only because I have more questions.”

I can’t say relief floods my chest at that, because I’m still not confident we have enough time to get me out of this pit, but I don’t complain.

“Any vines around you could toss in my direction?” I ask, though my voice is rather devoid of hope at this point.

She bites her lip and scans the area, shaking her head.

“Logs of some sort?”

“I don’t see any.”

“I’d accept them in all varieties at this point: bumpy, smooth, even rotting.”

Zora shakes her head again, hugging her chest. She’s hardly moved to look for anything, and I realize panic has frozen her in place.

“There’s got to be sticks up there,” I say, “something you can toss down that I can use as picks to help me climb up.”

“I don’t…”

“Zora, please,” I say.

Her gaze flits back to me, and for that fleeting breath of a moment, it’s almost like she sees me. The me that she knew before. Her childhood playmate. Her partner in mischief.

But then her gaze flickers to the horizon. Sorrow floods her features, and I know we’re too late.

“Nox. Nox,” she says, her legs finally moving, pacing, searching the area frantically. She tosses sticks and logs toward me, and I thrust them into the side of the pit, but they break as soon as I apply my weight to them.

“Zora,” I say, pushing my forehead against the soft earth of the pit.

“Yes?”

“It was good to get to see you again,” I say, just as sunlight slips over the edge of the pit and envelops me.

CHAPTER 8

BLAISE

Gentle sunlight kisses my skin, wrapping me in a pool of warmth that soothes my aching muscles, calms my spirit.