you, always, and you secretly resented her for it. You were often overlooked. And yet you loved her, and you feared she would leave you far behind, that she would go to a place you could not follow. That she would forget you. That you would lose her.”
“Leave me,” Evadne warned through her teeth. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“That may be, but someone must say this to you, Evadne of Isaura, girl of flight. It is time for you to remake yourself.”
“You know nothing of me, of what I need!”
Ivina snickered. She turned to leave, her white raiment whispering as she moved. But she stopped and looked back at Evadne one final time, her hair like gossamer on her shoulders.
“I do know, Evadne. Once, long ago, I was the same as you. I was a mortal girl, a young mage who did not know who she was or what she wanted. And look at me now. I see a shade of myself in you. You, Evadne, who have lived your entire life in comparison to Halcyon’s. You measure yourself according to her. And the past moon, you have not lived for yourself, but for her. You gave up your freedom and took an amulet on your arm, all for her. You risked yourself in Euthymius, to finish what she started. Do you even know who you are? Can you be your own person without her? Or are you destined to be the moon, always reflecting the sun? Who is Evadne of Isaura?”
Evadne cursed her until the mage vanished into smoke that the wind carried back to the summit.
She was alone again, and the silence of the night crushed her. Evadne fell on her knees, stunned.
The things Ivina had said . . . some of her words had been terrible, intended to wound Evadne at her weakest moment. But some of her words had been truth.
And that truth broke the last of her.
Who was Evadne without her sister?
She did not know.
The sun rose.
Evadne packed her provisions. She banked the fire. She bundled the bedroll, strapping it to her shoulders. She sheathed the sword and began to walk.
She could find only one horse, grazing in the meadow. The other gelding was gone, and Evadne led her horse down into the ravine to begin the terrible search for her sister’s body.
The ground was pebbled, rocky, choked with weeds. Evadne walked on foot, the gelding following delicately behind her. She was afraid to look ahead, to see Halcyon’s remains. She expected to find her broken, her blood pooled about her.
She stopped suddenly, closing her eyes, hiding her face in the gelding’s neck. She would never get home like this, though. And Isaura waited, just over the foothills.
Evadne continued to walk along the ravine’s floor. But there was no sign of Halcyon.
She was beginning to wonder if the enchanted Xander had taken her into another world—perhaps they had slipped away through a secret door in the air—when Evadne finally saw a flash of movement, high on a ledge, halfway up the perilous slope.
A girl, holding to a wiry shrub. Bleeding, breathing. Alive.
“Halcyon!” She dropped the reins and took flight, her voice echoing off the rock, but Halcyon heard and tilted her head. Her eyes widened as she watched Evadne glide, hover in the air beside her.
And then Halcyon did the most remarkable thing.
She laughed, just as Damon had done in the mountain. She laughed until she was weeping, and Evadne embraced her, waiting for Halcyon to trust her enough to carry her, to let go of the shrub that had saved her life.
“Am I dreaming, Eva?” Halcyon whispered, still clinging to the plant. Her face was scratched from the fall, as were her hands, her arms. Dried blood and tears cut paths down her dusty cheeks. “Or are you truly flying?”
“This is real,” Evadne said, smiling. “And you are about to fly with me. Trust me, Sister. Let go.”
It took her another breath. But then Halcyon did.
She trusted Evadne’s arms, her unseen wings. And she let go.
There is a meadow in Isaura. In summer, it is a field of gold, and in winter, one can see it from Gregor’s villa. It is like catching a glimpse of another realm, a place that only the divines know. This was sacred childhood ground, a piece of earth that Halcyon and Evadne had often explored as girls. This was the ground where Evadne had sat with her wax tablet, practicing her letters, waiting for magic to