My throat clenches with grief, and I think that I finally understand my mother. Because there are things I want that badly. I want to find Thea, wherever she has fled, and give her back the sister she’s always adored. I want to heal Koré’s sight and peel away the mask and her false shape, so that she can spend just one day in freedom. I want—I want so very, very much—to undo the harm I did Anax, and to heal the bitterness that’s festered in his heart for years.

My mother knew that wishes are always bought with pain. She thought she could shield me from the price, but she was wrong. Maybe I could do better. Maybe I could word my bargain carefully enough that nobody I loved would pay. But somebody would. And I know one thing my mother never did. I know what it is like to live every day and every hour by the fruits of someone else’s wretched bargain. To see people suffer and know, They suffer because I am loved.

I would not do that to the ones I love. Not for anything in the whole wide world.

“There are a lot of things I want,” I say quietly and deliberately. “But I think I will keep what I have.”

The Gentle Lord laughs again. “Then you are wiser than many. Farewell, Maia. I do not think we will meet again.”

And he is gone. I feel it in a sudden relaxation of the air. I let out a great sigh and climb stiffly to my feet. Koré is still asleep; I will need to wake her soon, and then—

Then we will need to find our way in the world with no family, no money, no help. I try to imagine the days ahead, and it’s not fear of ruin that makes my chest ache; it’s fear of the unimaginable blank with every familiar part of life gone. I never thought that freedom would feel so much like grief.

And that’s when I see Anax walk around the side of the house. He’s pale and a little unsteady on his feet; when he sees me, he stares for a few moments as if convinced I’m not real.

“Maia,” he says, and then we’re both running at each other, and a moment later I’m in his arms. He’s squeezing me so tightly I can barely breathe, but it doesn’t matter because he came back, he doesn’t hate me, and he’s whispering things like safe and sorry and dear into my hair.

“Are you all right?” he asks when he finally releases me. “I came back, I saw the house—I thought you were dead.” He’s no longer clutching me to his chest, but he has one hand on my waist and another cupping my chin, and I’m grasping his arms in return. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to let go of him again.

“I’m all right,” I say. “Truly.”

And for the very first time, those words are the truth.

“I found your sister,” he says. “She was wandering the streets. She didn’t even know her own name. If I hadn’t met her at the ball—”

I shudder in fear and relief at once. If he hadn’t remembered that brief introduction, he wouldn’t have known her, and she would be wandering still. She could have been lost forever.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“I took her to the palace. She isn’t hurt otherwise, but she couldn’t tell me what happened, and when I got back, the house was on fire. Nobody could get close. I thought you were dead.”

“I lied,” I blurt out. “When I said I didn’t love you. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he says. “I knew as soon as I took two minutes to think about it. I was on my way back to your house when I found Thea. I was going to sit on your doorstep and wait as long as it took you to tell me the truth. And I was going to tell you how sorry I was for all the things I said—”

Then I do let go of his arms, so I can grab him by the neck and pull him into a kiss.

“That’s your punishment,” I say when our lips finally part. “You have to let me kiss you as much as I want.”

He laughs. “Does that mean you’ve decided to marry me?”

“Yes,” I say, and it’s a while before we speak again.

Finally I take him by the hand and draw him back toward the ruined apple tree. “I need you to meet my other sister,” I say. “Properly, this time. I love her very much, and you’re going to help me take care of her.”

“If she can make you admit to loving her,” he says, “she must be very—”

Then he sees Koré and stops.

“Do you know,” he says after a moment, “your house gets stranger every time I visit?”

I laugh shakily. “You have not heard the half of it.”

But now I can tell him. Now I can speak to him day after day and not be afraid. I can speak to the whole world, if I want.

And every word I say will be true.