“Can we? The only way I know to do that is to experience Firstdeath again and have you bring me back.” The risk! One day, my body won’t recover.

“We’ll find another way.”

I want to trust him. I do. I didn’t trust him in Prynne, and I didn’t trust him when my father came storming into my room, and yet he came through for me anyway.

“Will you save Killian from Myriad’s wrath? Because they’ve tied his life to my decision. If I sign with Troika, he dies.”

Archer closes his eyes. “I can’t. I can’t get inside Myriad, and that’s where they’ll keep him.”

“Then I’m going to remain Unsigned a little longer.”

Now he glares at me. “Just because we can’t see the solution doesn’t mean there’s no solution at all.”

“You make a good point, but I’m weak, and this isn’t the time to make a life-altering decision.”

“There’s no better time.” But he sighs and mercifully changes the subject. “How about a celebratory poem?”

“You’d like it to rhyme, I’m guessing.”

“Only because I deserve the best.”

Ha! “If there’s one thing I know, it’s this. When I was dead, I was missed. You, Archer Prince, think I’m great, so much better than the numbers six, seven, eight. Even nine! Because it’s time, it’s time, it’s time you faced facts—life without me seriously lacks. And before you get huffy and try to deny it, there’s something I should probably admit. I guess I love you, even though you’re a pain. But I’m pretty sure that means...I’m completely insane.”

* * *

In an effort to rebuild my stamina, I walk the treadmill for ten minutes...twenty... All the while, I peer out the window. At the trees swaying in a strong breeze, at the sun shining over rolling hills. I want to be standing in a warm, golden ray—crave it. Actually, I want to be kissing Killian in a warm, golden ray.

I have to leave this safe house, and soon.

Two days have passed since I first woke in bed, and still there’s been no sign of Killian or Elena. My frustration level is nearing detonation.

“Zero!” I punch the console, causing the machine to speed up.

Oops. Detonation achieved.

“Temper much?” Deacon strides into the gym, a built-on room at the back of the house, spacious but crammed with equipment. He’s wearing a skintight shirt, his jeans ripped and his combat boots caked in mud. He crosses his arms over the monitor on the treadmill.

“Yes.” I slow the speed so I won’t be quite so winded during our conversation. “How are Kayla and Reed?”

“They’re good. They’ve entered training to become Laborers.”

They’re both cautionary tales for the hazards of remaining Unsigned, so they should excel at their new jobs. Then again, there are morons like me...

I can’t let go of my desire to return to Many Ends and save the spirits still trapped. I can’t let go of Killian.

“You want to know who isn’t doing so well?” he continues. “Sloan. She’s missing. Has been since we split after the party.”

Oookay. Way to stop me in my tracks. I punch the proper button and the tread slows even more...stops...and the incline lowers. I grab my towel and dab at my sweaty brow. “How does Archer always find me? Do that. Find her.” I don’t like that she’s missing.

“You called for him. She hasn’t called for me.”

Right. “I think she planned to go home to finally torch her family’s estate. Have you looked there?”

His nod is clipped. “First place I checked.”

Zero!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

In unison, we turn toward the north wall. The wall blocking us from Lina—Aunt Lina or Loony Lina?

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I’ve seen her only once since leaving my sickbed, but she didn’t even realize I was in the room, stared past me when I gripped her shoulders and shouted, “Why? How could you do that to me?” I left unsatisfied and angry.

“Want me to check on her?” he asks.

“No. I’ll do it. Then we’ll search for Sloan. And Killian,” I add quietly. “Together.”

He grunts. Not an agreement but not a rejection, either.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Resigned, I stalk down the hall. At the end is Lina’s room, the wall in front of me no longer made of plaster but of bulletproof glass. Amazing what kind of repairs and changes these Laborers can make in a short amount of time. Lina is pacing, her hands wringing together. She’s been bathed—a female Laborer showed up yesterday not just to feed her one of those glorious mouth strips but to brush and braid her hair and change her clothes. She’s now wearing a pretty pink dress with ruffles.

I place my hand on the ID panel. A laser shines between my fingers, warm to my skin. The lock on the door opens, followed by the door itself. I step inside, and Lina instantly calms.

“You shouldn’t have trusted her,” she says.

Loony Lina. Here we go again. While I know she somehow sees into the future, making sense of her statements is nearly impossible until after the fact. “Who shouldn’t I have trusted?”

“Her. I’m sorry she died.”

My stomach clenches. “Who died, Lina?”

“You died. I cried. He died. You cried. She died. So many died.” A tear slides down her cheek. “Why didn’t I die?”

As angry as I am with her, I don’t like seeing her upset. And in a way, I’m glad the events played out the way they did. Had she not killed me, I wouldn’t have freed Kayla and Reed. I wouldn’t have learned Myriad and Many Ends are connected. I wouldn’t have any clue what happened to Killian.

Warm breath brushes my face, and I blink, only then realizing Lina is in front of me. Zero! Concentrate!

“Lina,” I say. “Help me understand. Please.” If she’s suicidal, she must understand her own condition. And it must be horrible, living with all that death in her head, knowing what will happen, but being unable to prevent the disasters from coming to pass. “Please,” I repeat.

She opens her mouth, snaps it closed. “So many names. So many disasters. So many deaths.”

“Who dies—died—next?”

Her eyes stare at nothing...or a future I still can’t see. “The public execution.”

Finally! We’re getting somewhere. Though I want to shake her, I remain still. No matter how frantic I feel, I can’t risk sending her back into the abyss of memories that haven’t yet happened.

“The boy...the Laborer. The human girl,” she says.

My blood grows cold. A public execution. A Laborer and a human girl. There is only one missing male Laborer, and only one missing human girl. “Killian? Sloan? What happens—happened—to them?” If I know, I can save them. I have to save them!

“The public execution,” she repeats. “Madame...she killed him. Him, the Laborer. You cried. I’m sorry.”

No, no, no. “Where is—was—the execution?” I can barely get the words out.

“The road...the steps...you looked so pretty in your white dress.”

The white dress? From the spa? Is she confusing two different days in the same location?