I explained what the black market log meant, that his soul had traded hands to the Silver Prince like a pretty coin, I thought Nahteran would be angry. Furious. Anyone would. But he doesn’t seem to be. I’m glad the Silver Prince brought Nahteran back—of course I am. But I can’t help wishing he was just a little angrier.
Then I remember something important. “Oh.” The sound escapes my lips unconsciously, as if my thoughts are overflowing my mind, spilling out. There are too many things to ask, too many things to tell. “Nahteran, I met … I met Taya. Your sister, Taya.”
Nahteran goes very still at the sound of her name. Confusion and uncertainty steal their way across his face like shadows. “Taya.”
I nod. “Do you remember her?”
His voice, when it comes, is quiet. “I do.”
I’ve been avoiding thinking about Taya since the horror of her vanishing. It’s too painful to remember everything that might have been, everything I did wrong. Too painful not knowing if she was okay, and worst of all, being utterly helpless to do anything about it, with the Solarian door sealed closed and no way to open it.
But I have to tell Nahteran about Taya. About all of it. Not telling him would be lying—worse than lying. I have to tell him, even if it’s confusing and convoluted. Even if it hurts.
So I do. Everything from the moment we met—when she almost ran me over on the road up to Havenfall—to finding out she was a Solarian, our fight with the Silver Prince, and how she saved Havenfall by threatening to break the Solarian door open, disrupting the balance and letting the inn tumble down, turning the Prince’s plans to rubble. How afterward, she vanished through the same door and how I don’t know if she meant to or not. Everything except for the fact that I had a massive crush on her that hasn’t quite gone away. That would just be too weird, on a lot of levels.
When the story is over, we sit in silence for a while. I don’t want to cry in front of Nahteran, so I call on one of Dad’s oldest lessons and try to focus on the positive. Taya could possibly be just fine in Solaria—that’s her world, after all. And Nahteran is here. I found him. Nahteran is here, and he’s whole. He’s himself. He’s sitting across from me just like old times. Probably more than a little traumatized, but not divided, not cast into an earring or an ashtray or … jacks.
My mouth goes dry and my hand shoots up, grasping at my throat for the necklace I’ve always worn. The silver jack on its silver chain. I unclasp it with unsteady fingers.
“Do you know what this is?” I ask, holding it out to him. It dances on its chain as my hands shake.
Nahteran’s face goes very still and pale as he reaches out for it. As I drop it into his palm, I tear through my memories, trying to remember where I got this necklace. I’ve worn it ever since I could remember, as a memento of my brother. But who gave it to me? When?
Marcus. A memory swims to the surface, so soft and hazy I’m not sure if it’s real. Marcus’s jeep in the parking lot of Sterling Correctional. My uncle twisting to look at me in the back seat, his face racked with grief, tear tracks shining on his cheeks. Holding something small and shiny out to me.
Nahteran looks just as uncertain as me. “The Silver Prince always said …” My brother stops, clears his throat, and goes on. “The Silver Prince told me that he hadn’t been able to find all the silver Cadius attached my soul to. That some pieces were missing.”
“Marcus was looking for soul-silver,” I whisper, feeling like I’m starting to fit this puzzle together. “For years. He pretended to work with the traders to bring the silver objects back to Havenfall. I wonder …”
My voice dries up, and I trail off. I don’t want to finish that sentence, don’t want to think about it. How broken Marcus must have felt if he found just one tiny piece of Nate’s soul. Not enough to bring him back, but nothing he could ever let go of, not ever.
“How do you get it back?” I ask, gesturing at the jack with a still slightly unsteady hand. “The pieces of your soul, I mean …”
Nahteran looks far away. He is very