The train is uneventful for the most part. We leave the station without a hitch, and then after about half an hour, there’s a knock on the door to our cabin. Frederick hides in the small bathroom while Ella and I present our travel papers and tickets. They hardly spend a second checking the IDs before moving on to the next, but still, relief washes through me the moment we’re able to close the cabin door, then lock it shut.

After that, I sleep.

And sleep.

And sleep some more.

I’m not sure I realize how exhausted I was until I wake up hours later to find the sun already low in the sky. My stomach rumbles as the scent of rosemary filters into my nose. There’s a plate on the table by my bed filled with what looks to be roasted potatoes, carrots, and green beans. I nudge the chicken to the side with a wrinkle of my nose—faeries don’t eat meat—and gobble down the rest. Frederick is asleep on the floor, stretched out with a jacket tucked under his head, and I hear Ella’s steady breathing from somewhere overhead.

The solitude is soothing.

It’s what I’m used to.

I stare out the window, lost in my thoughts as I watch the landscape shift from open fields, to crumbled towns, to thick forests, to cityscapes peppered with lights. As the sun sinks closer and closer to the horizon, the sky floods with color, until there’s a single golden spot shining in the center of a periwinkle sea and surrounded by persimmon-edged clouds. Maybe this is why I’ve always loved marigolds. They remind me of these last vestiges of daylight, the only goodbye I’ve ever found comforting, because I know it’s temporary. The Mother will return tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. She’s the only constant in an otherwise volatile world.

“What are you smiling about?”

I didn’t hear Frederick wake up, but when I turn toward the sound of his voice, he’s leaning on his elbows, sitting up and watching me. His golden hair is in complete disarray, highlighted from our days spent beneath the sunshine. The formerly pale color of his skin is now a warmer tan, spotted by a smattering of freckles no longer hidden by the gloomy skies of his homeland. A layer of light-brown scruff stretches along his jaw. He’s still the same prince, but not so refined, a little bit wild. I like him better this way. “It’s a beautiful sunset.”

“Is it?”

I fold my legs to make room on the bed and then pat the empty space beside me. “Come see.”

He rolls to his feet and settles down, close enough that the edges of our knees touch. I don’t move away. I just turn my face toward the window, wishing I could breathe in some of the fresh air on the other side. The room suddenly feels stagnant and warm. Frederick reaches for the light switch and turns it off, making the view even more vibrant. At the outer reaches of the sky, where the darkness of night creeps in, stars twinkle to life. I wonder, the same way I always do when I look to the Father’s realm, which one holds Aerewyn’s burning soul?

A grouping of tall thin poles topped by three blades that spin slowly in the wind are silhouetted in the distance. It’s the fourth time I’ve seen them. “What are those?”

“Those?” Frederick nudges his chin forward and I nod. “Wind turbines.”

“What’s a wind turbine?”

“I should’ve seen that one coming.” He rolls his eyes. “We use them to make electricity. As the winds blow, the blades spin, turning a rotor, which is connected to a generator, which then creates electricity from the movement. At least, I believe it’s something like that.”

I move my hand to the switch, flicking the lights back on, then off, then on again. He claims this isn’t magic, but it seems like it is to me. “Do you pull all your electricity from the wind?”

“No. Some of it we get directly from the sun—”

“The sun?”

“Or from water or geothermally,” he continues, ignoring my outburst. It’s interesting to me that my magic and his electricity come from so many of the same sources. “Most of our clean energy is nuclear, though a lot of people are petitioning to end that after the issues with the earthquake.”

“Issues?”

“Multiple power plants across the globe exploded, causing radiation poisoning, and waste sites were damaged, causing leakage. A lot of countries are still dealing with the aftermath of the exposure today, and they will be for a long time. But most people still think it’s better than the alternative.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“Oil, like you saw before. Coal. Gas. Things we can’t renew. Things we have to burn, which then release harmful gases into the environment. Before the earthquake, we relied on them a lot more, but with so much infrastructure gone, a lot of countries had to switch to renewable sources and learn to monitor their consumption. I guess you could say that’s been one positive aspect of this whole mess. We’ve cleaned up our act a lot, literally and figuratively.”

I close my eyes as memories flood my thoughts, snippets of visions and nightmares and dreams that woke me with a cold sweat in the middle of the night and sent my magic soaring into the sky for release.

“Oh, sorry. Am I boring you?” he teases.

My eyes pop back open.

“No, it’s just—” I break off with a frown, shaking my head.

He narrows his eyes and leans toward me, face illuminated silver as the moon slips out from behind a cloud, announcing the arrival of night. “What?”

“Does this sound familiar?” I ask, dredging up a scene from the dark depths of my mind. “A fire burning brighter than the sun, flashing with every color of the rainbow as it breathes poison into the air. A forest turned red as death sweeps through in the form of ashy rain. Animals bleeding out. Birds dropping from the sky.”

He tilts his head to the side, frowning now too. “That could describe the explosion of a nuclear power plant.”

“What about coral bleaching beneath the surface of the sea? Losing its vibrancy and turning into ghostly white fingers that stretch for the sun?”

Frederick nods.

“Lakes drying to desert dust?”

He nods again.

“And you already showed me the black death.”

“Oil?”

I nod.

“How…” He trails off, shaking his head. “How do you know all this?”

“I’ve seen it.” His eyes widen as shock flashes within them. “I used to have these dreams, these horrible dreams. I never thought they were real until coming here.”

“You saw my world?”

I nod slowly. “I saw it dying. The poison ran through my veins. I choked on the air. I cried burning tears. I felt the ache of the Mother all around me.”

“The Mother? She’s your god, right?”

“She’s everyone’s god,” I whisper, returning my gaze to the scene on the other side of the window. We pass by shadowy trees so fast they’re hardly more than a dark blur. “She’s life itself.”

Frederick grips my hand. When I turn to find his eyes, there’s a conviction in them unlike anything I’ve seen in his face before, burning and powerful, rushing up from the deep like a geyser, exploding beneath a clear sky so each droplet reflects the light of the stars. The force of it overwhelms me. Fear grips my heart, because I know I’m not ready for whatever he’s about to say. I’m not ready for the promise in his eyes, whispering that we were destined to be in this moment together.

“Nymia—”

“What time is it? I’m starving,” Ella moans. The bed above us creaks as she rolls over, and a moment later her head drops over the edge, face dangling like a piece of fruit from a tree, hair swaying like scraggly leaves. Her gaze falls to the spot where Frederick is squeezing my hand, then rises to dart between our faces. She freezes. “Sorry. Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” I hastily reply and jerk my fingers free.

I don’t want to hear what the prince was about to say. I don’t want to know the dreams that danced across his eyes. I want to forget the passion in his voice as he fervently whispered my name. I didn’t come to this world for him.

I came for my sister.

She’s my choice, my fate.

The only thing that matters is getting her back.

“Do you want to find a snack?” I smile and meet Ella’s eyes. “I’m hungry too. And I could use a moment to stretch my legs.”

Ella blinks a few times, but then grins. “Sure.”

She reapplies the powder to my cheeks, hiding my sparkling skin, and then we make our way to a place Frederick, without a ticket or traveling papers, can’t follow—the dining car. Ella is silent as we traverse the length of the train. The absence of her voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand—she’s never quiet. While we’re waiting in line, she finally bursts.

“Do you fancy him?” she asks, tone a hair too casual.

“Who?” I eye the man behind the counter. He’s so old his hair has started to gray, but his smile is kind. “Him?”

Ella makes a face. “No. Freddie.”

“What?” It’s my turn to twist my features. “No, of course not.”

She purses her lips and stares at me for a prolonged second, arching a brow. Then she takes a deep breath, crosses her arms over her chest, and drops her gaze to the ground before mumbling, “Because I guess it’d be all right if you did.”

A soft snort escapes my nose. “Oh, would it?”

“Yes.” She snaps her face up, annoyed at my tone, then rolls her eyes. “Freddie and I? Well, I’ve decided we’d never work.”

“You have?” The smitten glances she always tosses his way would say otherwise.

“I have. He’s too—too—” She waves her hands through the air. I imagine the word she’s looking for is perfect. Instead, she sighs. “Anyway, I just thought you should know.”

Her voice is comically somber, as though all her dreams are crashing down around her, but she forces out a smile, putting on a brave face. I nudge her hip with mine and jerk my chin toward the display.

“They have chocolate.”

Ella grins. “Chocolate solves everything.”

We buy three bars along with some real food. On the way back to the cabin, Ella returns to her normal self, and I let her do what she does best, talk and talk and talk, about the food, about the snacks, about the passenger who was wearing that weird hat, about the annoying kids in the cabin next door, until I’m numb in the ears, and then I let her keep going.

I don’t want her to notice a bond between Frederick and me.

I don’t want there to be a bond between Frederick and me.

I don’t want to feel this way toward either of them.

And I especially don’t want to hear whatever he’s dying to say. As soon as we step through the door, I see the same words from before burning in his gaze, deep and powerful, but thankfully a complete mystery to me. I’d like to keep it that way.

So, for the next day, I use Ella as my human shield. When she sleeps, I pretend to sleep too. When she’s bored, I take her on a walk. When she’s hungry, we go get food. I won’t let Frederick catch me alone again, not when we’re so close to the end. I won’t let him distract me.

He knows what I’m doing, of course.

I see his frustration mounting. He yearns to spill his secrets, to open his heart, to let me in on this discovery of his that’s clearly changed his whole perception of the world.

But I won’t let him.

And Ella, it seems, is on the same page. She keeps it light. We play games. She comments on the view, on the people around us, on the train. She makes Frederick tell more stories from his past, often requesting tales involving his siblings. While he tells them, her eyes glaze over with a far-off look. I know her thoughts slip to Omorose on an almost constant basis. I can practically see the swarm of nerves buzzing beneath her skin. The closest she comes to talking about her sister is during our last night on the train, when the rest of the world is fast asleep and the moon is so high overhead I can’t even spot it through the window.

“Nymia?” she whispers, breaking up the monotonous hum of metal wheels and the occasional snore drifting down from the top bunk. We decided to share so Frederick could have a good night’s sleep. I’m pretty sure he saw right through my generous offer.

“Yes, Ella?”

“Will she like me?”

I don’t need to ask who. Instead, I roll over and find her gaze across the rumpled sheet. For a moment, I’m reminded of other midnight conversations from a lifetime ago, on a bed of moss, not a mattress, beneath the moon, not metal, yet somehow so similar—filled with confessions that were easier to spill in the dark. “She loves you.”

“I know,” Ella murmurs. “But will she like me?”

I know what she means. I’ve had the same thought—when Aerewyn sees me again, will she like who I’ve become? I don’t think I want the answer. “Just be yourself.”

“I thought I was annoying?”

“You are,” I tease as the edges of my lips quirk. “But in a likeable way.”

Ella rolls her eyes. “I’m serious, Nymia.”

“I am too. You’ll see. It’s impossible to dislike you.”

I should know.

I’ve been trying my best to do just that since the moment we met, but nothing seems to stick. Things were never supposed to be this complicated, or this hard. But at least it’s almost over. I made my decision a long time ago. Now all that’s left is to see it through.

When Ella falls asleep, I roll back to the window—wide awake as the oath burns beneath my skin. With each mile we’ve raced west, closer and closer to Omorose, the buzz in my blood has mounted, from a dull trickle to a heavy thrum. Tonight, the hum surges even louder, so charged I’m surprised my body doesn’t shake from the pressure. By the time we arrive in Denver the next morning, the whisper has become a roar, shouting that I’m so close to the end.

I don’t realize how close until we step off the train.

Since they don’t check tickets upon arrival, there’s no reason to use my magic or hide Frederick. Instead, we meld into the crowd, blending with the rest of the horde making its way down the crowded platform. As a mass we trickle slowly through the station. With each step, my blood pounds like thunder in my chest and my heart races. When we step through the door and onto the street, my body flashes so hot I freeze.

“Ella!”

All three of us turn toward the sound. A lone figure races opposite the pack, swerving between bodies as she makes her way closer. Her auburn hair flares red in the sunlight. Her rosy cheeks are pinched in a smile. Stars dance deep within her umber eyes.

“Ro Ro?” Ella whispers, voice shaky and unsure.

“Ella!”

“Ro Ro!” she screams and jolts forward.

My body goes weak and I sway on my feet, grabbing Frederick’s arm to keep from toppling over. He eyes me curiously, but in this crowd, there’s nothing he can say. The two sprinting girls rush closer and closer, on a collision course. The moment they crash together, something within me snaps. I bite my lips to keep from crying out as the torrent vanishes, leaving me eerily still. Just like that, the blood oath fades.

I’ve fulfilled my promise.

I’ve returned Ella safely to her sister.

Now I’m finally free to bring my sister back to me.