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I know, I know, I said tiredly. I watched Molindra rip apart the deer carcass. Did you know when you brought us here that this world would turn out to be connected to Aercanum?

I did not, she said reflectively, or I would have carried you elsewhere. Somewhere far, far away. But as I’ve told you, I had little control over our destination. We were like a top, spinning out of control. I touched the top with my finger and … voilà. Here we are.

Here we are, I echoed. I thought of all Rodriguez had said and hardened my heart a little. Still, I said, you must have known some of this before, about the Bloodmaiden. About who she really was.

There was no reply.

Mother?

I’m here.

Surely you must have known, I prodded, that the Bloodmaiden was fae. That our worlds were once connected.

It may shock you, my dear, but your mother does not in fact know everything under the sun.

I bit my lip. Fine. So you didn’t know about the Bloodmaiden or the prophecy or the Veil or any of this before we got here.

That’s right, she said, sounding tired. Though, none of it is very surprising. I suppose it’s ironic, isn’t it? I truly thought we had traveled quite far. After all, the journey seemed so long …

My heart sped up. So long? What do you mean? The journey didn’t seem long at all to me. One moment I was, well, dying, and the next I was waking up.

A long pause.

Orcades, I said warningly, what did you do?

When two souls occupy one body, she said, the boundaries between them can blur. Often, the host risks losing their own sense of self entirely. This magic is therefore rarely practiced—and for good reason.

My blood ran cold. It was a recitation. I recognized the words. Those aren’t your words, Orcades. Professor Wispwood had once said them.

But they are fitting. And quite true. She paused. I’ve already explained to you that I made some unintentional changes.

Changes to me.

Yes, changes to you, she hedged.

Like the Classical Sangrathan, I remembered. I’d had no knowledge of it before arriving in Sangratha. But now I was fluent. You said there was seepage, between us, between our skills and experiences.

Yes.

But they were unintentional changes, weren’t they, Orcades? I demanded.

Mostly …

Mother!

You were only a child. No more than a girl. When you arrived here, I made sure you were a woman—albeit a young one.

My heart was pounding. Orcades, what did you do?

I lent you some of myself. Some of my memories. Some of my experiences. I gave them to you. Just a few. Just enough to … make you more whole.

More whole? Was I not whole before?

Silence.

My heart fell. I’ve always known I was a freak, I said bitterly. In Aercanum the children would mock me. I was unnaturally quick. Unnaturally strong. Even adults were afraid of me.

I tried to give you something to round you out, she said sounding, for the first time in all our conversations, a little desperate. You were a precocious child.