have to trust her sister completely for it to work.
“Believe in me,” Hana said softly.
Sora stopped playing with the necklace.
This is what Mama would have wanted, for Sora to stretch beyond what a normal person would, to tap into the well of kindness inside her and believe that Hana could change.
Could she do it?
But she already had, hadn’t she? She’d accepted Hana’s capture of Tidepool as proof of her loyalty, and she had welcomed Hana into the planning.
“All right,” Sora said. “We have a few days to plot out the details of how you’ll get to the prince, but we’ll figure it out.”
Papa beamed at his two girls working together. Sora wasn’t quite that enthusiastic—she was still working herself up to fully believing that Hana was on her side—but she still gave Papa a smile.
Then Sora turned to Daemon, who was guarding Tidepool by the roots of the tree. “And that brings us to the last thing we need to do—learning about the purification ritual. But I have to admit, I’m at a loss here. We could try to contact Liga again, but he’s not that helpful—”
“I’ll go to Celestae,” Daemon said.
“You’ll what?”
“Fly to Celestae. Pound on the gates or shout at the fortress walls or whatever it is that’s supposed to keep me out. And then I’ll find Luna and persuade her to tell me about the purification process. She’s my grandmother and the taigas’ patron god. She has to help.”
“That’s . . . crazy,” Sora said. Not only the part about him trying to get into Celestae and convince Luna but also the possibility that he’d see his father, Vespre. She remembered how conflicted Daemon had been back in Jade Forest, when she’d originally come up with the idea of reaching out to his father. It had been almost a relief when they’d gotten Liga instead.
Now, though, Daemon crossed his arms. “And since when has the ever-mischievous Spirit been against crazy ideas?”
Fairy laughed. “He has a good point.”
Everyone else nodded.
“Besides,” Daemon said, “I promised to do everything I could to save you from an eternity in the hells, and I meant it.”
Sora bit her lip.
“All right, then,” she said. “I guess we have a plan.”
“Yes, we do,” Daemon said, “but could I talk to you privately?”
She frowned. “Uh, sure.” She turned to the rest of the group. “Why don’t you all get a little rest? Hana, watch over Tidepool. Daemon and I will be right back.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
They walked a short way to a thicket of banyans—trees that grew one on top of another, their seeds landing on a branch of one tree and casting down roots, such that dozens of trees could fuse together, their long roots draping over one another and hardening into a forest of interwoven trunks.
“What’s going on?” Sora asked.
Daemon spun and faced her. “I actually hate the idea of splitting up again.”
“Sorry,” she said, confused. “But didn’t your part of the plan—going to Celestae—also involve dividing up? It makes sense, and we’ve been doing it this whole time.”
“Yes, but I don’t want . . . Ugh, I don’t know how to explain it without . . .” Daemon closed his eyes as if it was suddenly all too overwhelming, and he rested his head against a banyan tree without finishing what he was saying.
She went over and touched his shoulder. “What don’t you want?”
He mumbled something, but it disappeared into the tree.
“I’m sorry. . . . I couldn’t hear you,” Sora said.
Daemon paused, then pulled himself away from the branches. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said.
At first she thought he meant he was afraid she would die damned. But when Daemon turned back around, his eyes met Sora’s, and their gemina bond buzzed as loudly as if his electricity was at its fullest. Sora gasped as her entire body vibrated with the charge between them.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he repeated, except this time, their bond also filled with rose—both the color and the sensation of blooms unfurling.
Sora’s mouth parted. Did this mean . . . ?
Almost immediately, though, he raised his mental ramparts and cut her off. “I shouldn’t have . . . You know what? Don’t say anything. You’re my gemina. I’ve probably ruined everything—”
She stepped closer, so there were only inches between them. She put her finger on his lips, and the warmth of his breath on that little sliver of her skin was enough to make her light-headed.
“You like me?” she dared to ask. “I mean, as