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“Of course,” he agreed.
Rush slammed and locked the door. He popped the top off the vial as he made his way to the bed. The bitter liquid slid down his throat before his head hit the pillow.
Darkness enveloped him, twisting and turning his mind until he stumbled to his feet inside Aura’s dream. His head cleared as gray light filtered into the blackened space, and he realized where he stood.
The lake.
Panic crawled up his spine, his fingers flexing. Why was hehereand not in the office like last time?Fuck the stars.
“Aura?” he called, his voice rough with anger and disgrace.
He averted his gaze from the still water, the muddy shore, searching for her. A flash of green caught his attention near a small overturned boat on the grass. He raced toward it, finding Aura laying on her back, just like last time. She wasn’t in the dark robe she’d been wearing, but a pale green dress with a square collar.
Only now, she was dry and … still asleep.
He knelt beside her and gently shook her shoulders. She felt just as real as when they were awake—warm, soft. “Aura, wake up. We need to talk.” She didn’t so much as stir. “Now, Aura.”
“She’s asleep,” came a soft voice. Afamiliarvoice.
Rush froze. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. No—it couldn’t be. This was Aura’s dream. It was just the lake playing tricks with his head. Playing tricks on him. Spirits. His past haunting him.
“Brother?”
Taking a deep swallow, Rush rose to his feet, his back to the spirit. He could hardly breathe as the word repeated in his mind.
Brother.
Brother.
Brother.
“It’s … me,” she said.
Rush squeezed his eyes shut, willing the lie away. His sister was stilldeadat the moment. Her body was in his damn cellar, right behind the spinning wheel she loved so much. She’d adored creating tapestries, weaving her own threads. Dead but not decaying because of the spell. The same one that was siphoning Aura’s energy was keeping Sorchaexactlyhow she was before. It was the first part of the spell set two years ago—Aura was the second. And Rush wasn’t ready in this moment to be reunited.
Memories flooded through him. Their unbreakable sibling bond. Him gifting her rare threads for her spinning wheel to see her smile. Her comforting him after their parents’ deaths even though she was his younger sister. Then him finding her limp body in the lake. Flashes of fear and shock and rage. Grief. Betrayal when he’d found the journal. Replaced, finally, with the determination to get revenge. Sorcha had killed herself because of Pax. Because Pax had chosen Aura over her and their child. He needed to pay for that, for using Sorcha.
“Rush?”
He held his breath as he turned to face his sister. It fell, heavy, from his chest at the sight of Sorcha standing in front of him. A boat’s length away. Porcelain skin, dark hair matching his, wide sapphire eyes. Her wet brocade dress clung to her, highlighting her stomach, where a small bump rested that he and no one else had noticed before pulling her body from the lake.
“Sorcha,” he rasped.
His younger sister gave him a hesitant smile. “I remember everything now. Seeing you… It all came back.”
“How are youhere?” He stepped toward his sister, leaving Aura on the grass. When his hands rose to pull her into an embrace, he halted. What if she wasn’t real? What if touching her made her disappear?
“I’m not sure.” She bit her lip. “Aura’s been coming to visit lately, but I’m uncertain wherehereis. She thinks it’s a simple dream.”
“Itisa dream,” he insisted. Otherwise, Sorcha wouldn’t be moving, speaking, breathing.
Sorcha threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, brother. If that’s true, it’s a nightmare. But this place is more than that. It’s been my home—my purgatory. The lake, the palace, all the places I frequented while I was alive, yet all tainted with my death.”
Rush clung to her, holding her to him, crushing her in the embrace. His sister was always the one who’d hugged him, and once she died, he continued to regret not returning them in the way he should’ve. She no longer smelled of sweet spices but mud. The cold water from her clothing soaked through his. But none of that mattered. She was real.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said into her damp hair. Once their parents died, she was all he’d had left. The one who’d kept him in check.
“I’ve missed you too.” She pulled away and looked him over. “You seem different.”
