Every time Cassandra thinks that she might be safe, the world is pulled out from under her. It’s a foolish hope. But even so, it’s still better than being in Whitestone. The tentative beginnings of friendship. People who know of what happened. Things that even her brother doesn’t know. He’d left. He’d escaped the hell that had become their home.

They’re not alone. And it makes a difference. It makes all the difference.

She shakes her head, a quiet, small movement. “Haunted as well.” A pause, a hitch in her breath. “The woman from the memory you saw.” Inej knows. Had seen one of the earliest of so many wounds that had been inflicted on her soul.

Will the Briarwoods ever let her be? “Never, dearest,” Delilah murmurs in her ear, as though she heard her very thoughts. “You’re ours.”