“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “We have other—”

“It does matter,” I insisted, leaning closer to her. I’d tried bringing this up before, and she kept evading the topic. “You said yourself that place pushed Keith over the edge, and I see the way Marcus looks whenever he talks about re-education.”

“A little sleep deprivation is nothing,” she said, still not directly addressing what I wanted.

“What else are they doing?” I demanded.

Fire flared briefly in her eyes. “What would you do if I told you? Would it make you work harder to find me?”

“I’m already—”

“Exactly,” she interrupted. “So don’t add on to your worries—especially when we’re already short on time.”

She and I stood there deadlocked for several tense moments. We’d rarely fought before she was taken, and it felt particularly weird to be doing it now, in light of all that had happened. I disagreed that what she was experiencing in re-education “didn’t matter,” but I hated seeing her so upset now. She was also right about our time crunch, so at last I gave a reluctant nod and switched subjects, telling her instead about my plan to visit Carly with Marcus.

“That’s not a bad idea. Even if Keith didn’t reach out to her, Carly’s in an Alchemist family and might be able to find out something for you.” Sydney was still holding on to me as she spoke, and while I certainly had no problem with that, I couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety that radiated around her, as though she were literally afraid to let go of me. She was putting on a brave face, but those bastards had done something to her, and I hated them for it. I tightened my hold.

“Got anything we can say that’ll let her know we’ve spoken to you?” I asked.

Sydney considered a few moments and then smiled. “Ask her if college has still made her set on adopting Cicero’s philosophy on life.”

“Okay,” I said. It made no sense to me, but then, that was the point.

“And ask her . . .” Sydney’s smile faded. “Ask her if she knows how Zoe’s doing. If she’s okay.”

“I will,” I promised, amazed that Sydney could care so much about a sister who’d betrayed her. “But now, what about you? Isn’t there anything you can tell me about your life in that place? I worry about you.”

Her anxiety rose, and I worried she’d get upset again, but she apparently decided to give me something. “I’m fine . . . really. And I may have even helped someone. I kind of finagled some of that magic salt ink together and used it to protect someone from Alchemist mind control.”

I pulled back a little so that I could meet her in the eye. “You used magic in Alchemist re-education? Weren’t you just saying you get in trouble for stepping out of line?”

“I didn’t get caught,” she said fiercely. “And it really did help someone.”

I drew her to me again. “Worry about helping yourself.”

“You sound like Duncan.”

“Duncan?” I asked jealously.

She smiled. “No need to worry. He’s just a friend, but he’s always warning me about staying out of trouble. I can’t stop myself, though. If I can help these people, you know I will.”

I was on the verge of reminding her of the many conversations we’d had about me and spirit use, how I’d always insisted that the risk to myself was worth it if I could do good for others. Sydney had constantly argued that I had to look out for myself because if I wasn’t careful, I wouldn’t be able to help anyone.

But I didn’t get a chance to lecture her now because she unexpectedly pulled me closer, tightening her hold and bringing our lips together. Warmth flooded me, along with a desire as real and as strong as I’d feel in the waking world. She trailed her lips to my cheek and then to my neck, giving me a brief moment to speak.

“No fair distracting me,” I murmured.

“You want me to stop?” she asked.

Like I even had to think about that one. “Of course not.”

Our lips met again in another hungry kiss, and I barely had enough presence of mind to shift our setting from the sunny courtyard to a bedroom at a mountain inn. Sydney paused again, laughing softly as she recognized the scene. “Memory lane,” she teased. “Back to the first time. You’ve even got it snowing out there.”

I eased her back onto the sumptuous bed. “Hey, Adrian Ivashkov offers full service.”

“And a money-back guarantee?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I told her. “No one’s ever been disappointed.”

Her laughter dissolved into more kissing, and with a last touch of dream shaping, I transformed her ugly tan scrubs into a formfitting black and maroon dress I’d once seen her in. Her beauty astonished me just as much now as it had then, and I ran a hand along her waist, coming to rest on the curve of her hip. Her own hands, which had been wrapped around my neck, now traveled down and tugged off my T-shirt with a boldness I would’ve never imagined when we’d first met. The touch of her fingertips on my chest was delicate yet managed to convey a power and urgency that sent shockwaves through me. Something told me the passion that burned in her now was driven by more than just our usual attraction—there was a need in her, a need born of months of desperation and isolation. I tipped her head back so that I could better kiss her neck, tangling my free hand up in her hair. She made a small gasp of pleasure and surprise as I grazed her skin with my teeth, though I was careful to do no more than just that teasing.

Slowly, tauntingly, I slid the hand on her hip up her body, loving the way she felt and reacted at my touch. I finally made my way to the zipper at her back and tried tugging it down—something that was more difficult one-handed than I’d expected.

She opened her eyes to regard me with both amusement and desire. “You could just dream the dress away.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I returned, feeling triumphant as the zipper caught. I slid it all the way down and began pulling the dress off.

“Oh, Adrian,” she breathed. “You have no idea how much—”

I didn’t need to ask what cut her off. I could sense it from the way she was losing substance beneath my hands: She was being woken up.

“Don’t go,” I told her futilely. It was less about physical fulfillment than a deep-seated fear I couldn’t give voice to: I’m afraid if you leave, I’ll never see you again. I could tell from her face, however, that she knew my fears.