“Well, we surely do not have much time,” Theodora said. “Do your best, and I shall watch at the door.”
Dora looked back down into the soapy water and tried to concentrate. It was harder than ever before—even the vanity mirror in her room at Hayworth House had been more yielding. But with Theodora nearby, it was a simpler matter to imagine herself in detail, only with shorter hair and less emotion on her face. Surely, Dora thought, she would be asleep somewhere, with her hair down.
The image slipped away, again and again. Having both her halves in faerie at once was helping, Dora thought, but the soapy water was a miserable substitute for a helpfully-enchanted mirror. Still... after a few careful tries, she began to see black tendrils in the water, bleeding in at the edges. Slowly, a familiar image asserted itself before her: a sunny, upstairs room with two small, clean beds.
Jane—or rather, Abigail—still slept in the far bed, though her body looked more pale and haggard than ever. Dora saw herself tucked into the other bed. Compared to Abigail, Dora looked as though she had just gone to sleep for a midday nap; her face was arranged in peaceful repose.
If anything, the man who had settled himself into the chair next to Dora looked far worse than she did. Elias’ face was worn and drawn, and he had great black circles beneath his eyes. He was holding Dora’s hand in his, but he must have fallen asleep in spite of himself; he was slumped in a terribly uncomfortable-looking position in the chair.
The sight of him sent a confused relief through Dora. Simply seeing Elias again was a kind of proof that she had not dreamed him up. But the idea that Dora had now contributed to his grief with her foolishness made her sad.
Dora took a few steps closer and reached out to brush one of those wild, white-blond locks of hair from his face. Her fingers passed right through him, of course, and she sighed.
“Elias?” she whispered softly. “Can you hear me? You must wake up. You would be very upset with yourself if you did not wake up right now.”
His eyes slitted open blearily, and Dora’s heart jumped in her chest. “This is why I never give anyone a key to my room,” Elias mumbled. “Curse you, what hour is it...”
“Elias, you must listen to me,” Dora told him sternly. “I have been stuck in Hollowvale, along with my other half. The marquess has been buying children from the workhouse masters—from George Ricks, for certain, but probably from the others, as well. I have seen Jane in Hollowvale too, though her name is really Abigail.”
Elias blinked a few times, and Dora saw his golden eyes begin to clear of sleep. “Dora?” he murmured. He sat up sharply, now fully awake. He reached out for her with his hand, but the gesture went through her just as her fingers had done with him before. His brow knitted, and he looked back towards Dora’s body, which was still asleep in the bed next to him.
A wash of emotion played over his face, so immediate and intense that Dora could not make heads or tails of it. “I’m not going mad,” Elias said hoarsely. “You’re here. I thought... with the plague...” He couldn’t seem to bring himself to finish the thought aloud. Exhausted tears threatened at his eyes.
Dora looked down. “I thought as much,” she said softly. “I heard you talking, at least a little bit. I would have said something sooner, but it has been very difficult to find a mirror.”
Elias reached out for her again from instinct, but Dora was still less solid than he was. He glanced towards her sleeping body, then shoved violently to his feet, reaching into his jacket to pull the same glass wand he had used to make the stars in the ballroom. As he passed the wand over Dora, a fresh heat came over her, and she shivered. For just a moment, she thought she could feel the bedsheets against her skin, and the pillow against her cheek.
The sensations of the bed disappeared almost immediately, however. The heat drained away, like water through a sieve. Elias hissed out a soft curse to himself and ran his hands back through his tangled hair.
“The marquess has bound you to him instead of to your body,” he said. “I do not think that I can put you back until I sever that connection.”
Dora nodded patiently, though the revelation was greatly disappointing. She had hoped that finding Elias would solve everything at once, but that was clearly not the case.
Even as she finished the thought, a strange weakness began to overcome her. Dora sat down quickly on the side of the bed, next to her body.
“Oh dear,” she murmured. “So I am bound to Hollowvale now, just like my other half. It might not be safe for me to stay for too long, lest I fade away entirely.”
Elias stowed his glass wand again. His eyes flashed in alarm, and again he moved his hand to steady Dora—but the gesture was still useless, however well-intentioned it might be. He let out a frustrated growl.
“Faerie,” Elias muttered incredulously. “You have been in faerie. And all the others too. No wonder I have not been able to cure you, since you aren’t even here to be cured!” He kicked at the chair next to him. “I’ll kill that damned creature, see if I don’t!”
Dora blinked. “But you never go to faerie,” she said. “I was going to ask if you could draw us back from here, or ask your advice on escaping. I didn’t mean to imply that you should—”
“Of course I am coming for you!” Elias told her hotly. His gold eyes burned at
