“The boy must learn there are consequences for his actions,” was all she said.

That was when I truly looked at the girl.

One who didn’t know Nox well would have missed the resemblance. The girl’s coloring is the stark opposite of his, but there’s no mistaking their bone structure. The girl is his twin.

I begged the queen to reconsider, but my efforts were in vain. She told me the boy must learn, and that there are only two ways she can think to teach him.

One is to put the girl’s consciousness into the Fabric until the boy learns obedience.

The other she didn’t say, but I know well enough what she implied.

I sat with the girl all night, welcoming it as she screamed threats and obscenities at me. I suppose I deserved it, but I tried to comfort her all the more for her own sake. I’m afraid I was unsuccessful.

Out of habit, I set the journal down. It takes me a moment to realize why I’ve done it: because I’ve reached the point where the words typically begin to swim away from me, but when I glance back down at the page, all the words remain in place.

Perhaps when I Turned, whatever dark magic healed my neck, healed my eyes as well.

It seems like something that should make me want to cry, tear up at least, but it doesn’t.

I suppose that means something is wrong with me, that I can’t seem to access those emotions, but I figure I already knew that, so I continue reading.

Day 18, Year 28 of Captivity

It’s been three days, and the girl has finally screamed herself to exhaustion. I’ve asked her for her name, because I feel she deserves more than to be ‘the girl,’ but she refuses to tell me. I’m sure Nox has never mentioned her name, but I also wonder if perhaps he has, and I simply was not listening. I think I have figured out a way to bind her to the Fabric, but she’s sleeping now, and I don’t wish to do it without explaining to her what is about to happen. I will not mention my theory here, lest the queen see. I’d rather her not discover how to repeat this dark magic.

Day 19, Year 28 of Captivity

I committed an unforgivable sin today. I used an ancient technique to plunge her into an indefinite slumber. I then bound the girl’s soul to the thread, and I began to weave it into a tapestry. She screamed so loudly when I was trying to explain that I’m not sure she ever understood what was about to happen. I did all of this when the queen was not present, which inflamed her, but I care not. I will do this for the girl, I will do this for Nox, but I will not allow the queen to repeat this atrocity on anyone else.

I intend to make the tapestry a pleasant one.

Day 21, Year 28 of Captivity

The tapestry fights against me, the thread weaving patterns I do not intend.

There is more trouble for the girl than I want for her, so I will finish this tapestry and then attempt again.

Day 22, Year 28 of Captivity

The queen brought the girl to Nox today, just for a moment, before setting her upon that awful shrine she’s prepared for the girl. I do not believe I will have the energy to write for quite some time.

No matter how I strive to weave happiness into the tapestries, it seems the thread has other plans for the girl.

The entries stop here, and I find myself hoping that this wasn’t the last time Gunter ever picked up a quill and ink to decipher his own thoughts. I tell myself, somewhere out there, there’s a stack of journals that date later than this one.

I clutch the journal to my chest and breathe in the leftover scent of musky incense that’s yet to fade from Gunter’s room, willing the memory of Gunter to make me feel something other than hunger.

It does, but only in a way that seems muffled, a dull sadness that’s been dunked under water and now must wade through murk to reach me.

I know they should be there—the joy at having eyes that can read and the sorrow of Gunter’s turmoil, the way in which, in an attempt to save Nox from the queen’s wrath, he’d accidentally placed Zora in danger. There should be happiness and grief and a host of other emotions, and though I know they are there, it’s as if I’m staring at them through fogged glass.

That’s when I hear my name.

CHAPTER 44

BLAISE

Nox stands in the doorway, and I find myself wrapping the leather strap around the journal to seal it.

“What are you doing?” he asks. There’s no accusation in his question, just concern. “I found a tray outside the laboratory, but you were gone.”

“I didn’t kill the servant,” I say before he can ask. “Not that I didn’t want to.”

Nox frowns. “I know you didn’t. I…” His gaze wanders to the journal in my hand, then snaps up to my face.

I could tell him now what I’ve learned about Gunter. There’s enough in this journal to excuse, if not Gunter’s actions, then at least his intentions.

But when it comes to Nox’s sister, I’m not sure good intentions will be enough. There’s the possibility that if I tell Nox Gunter is the one responsible for Zora’s slumber, it will cause him more pain than closure. It would be one thing if Gunter’s journal revealed how to rouse Zora, but it doesn’t. Gunter made sure not to even reveal how he bound Zora’s consciousness to the Fabric, much less how to release her.

At the moment, I can’t think of a positive outcome to telling Nox of Gunter’s involvement, so I say, “The incense Gunter used to burn—it masks the scent of the servants. I may or may not have gotten bored hiding out in here.” I hold up the journal, quickly tossing it atop one of Gunter’s many stacks.

I beckon for him to sit on the floor next to me, and he does. We sit in silence for a moment before he begins again. “It’s my fault this happened to you. That you have to live like this.”

“A prisoner, you mean? Because I was one of those long before I met you. Well, not long, I suppose. But for at least a mooncycle.”

What I don’t mention is that Abra has, for reasons unknown, decided to free me. That Nox has only been keeping me here until I can control myself well enough not to slaughter innocents.

Which I suppose I proved with the servant girl today.

I don’t think either of us is ready to address the issue of my freedom, not when Zora still sleeps, and Nox won’t leave until she’s free. So we don’t.

Nox chuckles in response, but it’s half-hearted at best. “I mean a life as a monster. A life never truly free. Free from the cravings. Free to walk in the sun.”

“I was never going to be free anyway,” I say, tucking my chin into my knees.

He frowns, and for a moment I think he’ll lean into me, but he doesn’t.

He’s hardly touched me since I Turned. I can’t exactly blame him. I imagine it’s difficult to look at me now. My form has changed for the better, I suppose, and my face was always pale, but there’s a difference in the structure of my cheekbones, the vibrance in my eyes, the dark circles that run underneath them.

I’m everything he hates about himself.

I wouldn’t want to look at me either.

“You don’t have to blame yourself too much,” I say, and I consider reaching for his hand, but the urge is stilted, so I don’t. “It’s not like you knew what you were doing. And if you hadn’t done what you did, I’d be forever trapped inside my body while Cinderella wreaked havoc and ruined my nails.”

I listen for a laugh at my joke, but it doesn’t come.

We’re both a bit dead inside, I think.