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Use your head, child, she scolded. It wouldn’t have a guardian if it wasn’t supposed to be locked.

A guardian? This is the first time you’ve mentioned a guardian.

No, I’m sure I mentioned her before, she said, a little peevishly.

I suddenly wondered something: If my mother was in Molindra, was Molindra also in her? If Molindra was truly, well, dead, then was she also decaying? How long could Catherine keep the dragon in this inbetween state? Would she eventually crumble and rot? When that happened, where would Orcades go? What would she be?

Of course you’ve heard of the guardian. Everyone has. Why, they stole her name, the Old One. You’ve visited her temple, for heaven’s sake.

I frowned. Her temple?

The Sanctum, my mother said, impatiently.

I sucked in a breath. Holy shit, Mother, are you saying that the guardian of the Veil is the fucking Bloodmaiden?

Such unnecessarily foul language, Orcades tsked. But yes, the Blood-maiden, precisely. An odd title, but there is no accounting for these vampire tastes.

Have you actually spoken to her? I hissed. She’s supposed to be a goddess.

I don’t know what she is exactly, only that Marcus and Catherine are hammering on her door, and she’s not willing to open.

Well, thank the gods for that, I muttered. Hammering on the fucking door of a goddess? That couldn’t be good.

Regardless, the fools aren’t giving up. And what’s worse, they’re making inroads.

I groaned. Inroads?

Cracks. In the Veil, she continued. These two see themselves as dark prophets, heralding a reclamation.

A reclamation? What do you mean?

They want to bring back part of Sangratha they believe was lost. But none of that matters right now.

I rolled my eyes, finding that hard to believe.

What matters, she went on, are the cracks.

Right. The cracks.

Do not mock me, child, she said, hearing my sardonic tone. I may be mostly dragon, but I am not senile yet.

I’m sorry, I said and meant it. You know, I really have missed you terribly, Mother.

I’ve missed you, too, my love. She sighed. How I wish sometimes I were still in that silly little knife. Who would ever have imagined I’d miss it? Now, listen, something is happening—not just here in the Bonewood, but out in the rest of the world. Perhaps you’ve noticed things. Signs, warnings. Tiny cracks. I fear those cracks will build and build.

I tried to think of anything strange, but all I could think of was Viktor and Regan and their new regime of blightborn cruelty. Things are pretty normal here at Bloodwing, I said carefully. All things considered. But I’ll keep an eye out.

Very well. In any case, my mother went on, do what you must to stay alive. Protect Florence.When whatever happens happens, I need you standing. Orcades became hurried. I must go. She’s waking now. We’ll speak again.

A wave of mist swirled around me, and then she was gone. I realized I was awake—truly awake. I pushed back my blankets. In the other bed, Florence slept on, her face still and peaceful. Neville lifted his head lazily from the end of Florence’s bed to glance at me. He gave a wide yawn, then lowered his head again, tucking his tail over his eyes. I turned over on my side, watching the two of them sleep. I wasn’t alone. Not here, not even in my dreams. The thought was comforting.

But I suddenly wished Blake were with me. Not only because I wanted his arms around me, but because of the solid weight of him, the unshakable strength he carried about with him, without even realizing it.

Orcades was still out there. Alive—well, sort of. That was something to be grateful for. But what she’d told me was strange and terrifying. She’d given me the pieces of a puzzle. Cracks in a wall, a dreaming dragon, a sleeping goddess. But I wasn’t sure I’d be able to put the pieces together. Not until I knew more.

Part of me wanted to tell Blake about the dream, the Veil, my mother’s soul riding a halfdead dragon through the Bonewood. But something held me back. Maybe it was the knowledge that he was holding back, too. Blake was holding too many secrets of his own. I wouldn’t add to the weight he carried until I had something we could act on.

Still, I knew one thing: If the cracks split wide and the world fell apart, he’d be beside me. Once his darkness had frightened me, but I’d seen his rage and reached for him anyway because I’d glimpsed what else lived beneath his skin: loyalty so fierce it scorched. The desire to do better. He’d seen the shadows in me, too. He hadn’t turned away. I knew he never would.