swayed, staggered, then lay down on the floor, snoring faintly. After a moment, I picked up my pillow and put it under his head. It wasn’t really his fault that he’d been so desperate for a few coppers that he’d been willing to risk the reputations of five wellborn young ladies.
“So far, so good,” I said shakily. “We just have to hope it will last until we get back. Dr?agu?ta’s unreliable— she might try anything. Get changed quickly.”
Tati put on the gossamer dress. White silk on white skin: she looked like a sacrificial victim. The crimson teardrop around her neck, on its black cord, was her only note of color.
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She seemed all bones and hollows, a shadow of herself. Looking at her, I felt a chill deep inside me.
“Jena.” Iulia’s voice broke into my reverie. “Are you planning to get dressed, or come in your working boots and apron?”
Quickly, I put on my green gown and pulled my hair back in a ribbon.
“Come on!” Tati was already crouched at the portal.
“Hurry up!”
It felt very strange indeed. I could hardly believe this might be the last time we would gather here, a semicircle of pale faces by candlelight, a pattern of shadows on the wall, conjuring the magical, long-ago day when we had first discovered our wondrous secret.
Tati looked at me; I looked back. Her eyes were full of anxiety, but there was a brightness there all the same: the gleam of love and of hope. She had not quite lost that, not while Sorrow might be no farther away than a single doorway and a walk through the forest. I shivered. It seemed to me there was nothing ahead for them but heartbreak and loss.
The portal opened.
“It’s the last time.” Stela’s chin was quivering. “The really, really last time.”
“Maybe not,” said Paula briskly. “Anything’s possible, Stela. Come on, take my hand.” They vanished down the spiral ahead of us, and we followed. I was the last out; I looked back over my shoulder as I went. Both Marta and Ioan lay where they had fallen, motionless.
We reached the bottom of the steps and headed along the Gallery of Beasts. The gargoyles were hanging down from their 307
vantage points, staring at us with their big, vacant eyes. None made a move to join us. Tati had gone ahead, but there was no call to the boats. As we approached the shore, I heard her urgent undertone.
Someone was there before us. A young man stood by the water’s edge, and my heart stopped as I saw him. Pale skin, dark, tangled hair, steadfast green eyes . . . I could move neither forward nor back—my feet refused to budge. What was he doing here? This was Full Moon, Ileana’s night: the night of lights and music, of friendship and good things. It was our chance to make things right again, if the queen of the forest would help us. If anyone did not belong here, it was him—the creature from the mirror, fair mask over foul reality. And yet I longed to go over to him, to touch him, to ask him if he was all right.
“Jena,” whispered Paula, “who is it? What do we do?”
“It’s him: Gogu,” I said grimly. I walked on, ignoring my sisters’ gasps of shock and murmurings of curiosity. “You mustn’t go anywhere near him—it’s dangerous. Don’t speak to him.
And don’t let him in your boat, if he tries to get a lift.”
We advanced to the shore.
Not so long ago I had wished Ileana would banish the Night People for good, and Sorrow with them. I had hoped fer-vently that my sister would never see her black-coated sweetheart again: it had seemed to me that even if he truly loved her, he could bring her only grief. Now, as I watched the little boats come one by one through the cracking ice of the Deadwash, part of me was willing Sorrow to be there, just to keep 308
the spark of hope in Tati’s eyes alive. One, two, three boats came. The first was poled by a dwarf—not Anatolie, but one of his many cousins or brothers—and a cold hand clutched at my heart. Paula, Iulia, and Stela were swept away across the water. The boatmen glanced at Gogu as they came in to shore, and their faces showed nothing but mild curiosity. None seemed afraid.
“He has to be here,” Tati muttered. “He must be, he must be. . . .” She had her arms wrapped around herself: the ice might be melting and the winter starting to lose its grip, but this shore was no place for fine silk gowns. She looked at Gogu again. “Aren’t you going to say
“What is there to say? He’s a monster—a thing from the darkness.” I peered over the water, wondering whether I could see a light through the curtains of mist. I willed myself not to meet the gaze that I knew was fixed on me from a little way along the shore. He’d made no attempt to go with any of the others, though the ferrymen had looked amenable enough.
With luck, we could leave him behind us.
“They’re coming!” Tati exclaimed, peering across the ice-strewn water into the vaporous cloud. A moment later her shoulders slumped, for the two craft that emerged were poled by the massive troll, Sten, and tall, dark-locked Grigori. Sorrow had not come.
Tati went with Sten. I could see her questioning him as they crossed the lake. I went with Grigori. As our boat moved away from the shore, I caught Gogu’s eye. His face was white, his mouth twisted in what looked like self- mockery.
I asked Grigori whether he would take the letter. “I’m desperate. There’s nobody else I can trust.”
“I’ll take it, Jena. This Gabriel—can
“He may look at you twice, but I know he has Father’s best interests at heart. He’s not the kind of man to make a fuss about things. All the same, be careful. I’ve made too many mistakes this winter and hurt too many people. I don’t want to put you at risk, Grigori.”
