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Shanny. I tried to place the name. Then I remembered her—the housekeeper’s daughter. She was just a little older than Persis, a wild, noisy thing. Just the sort of friend Persis would be fascinated by. Amina shot me a knowing look; I made a mental note to speak to my mother. Persis should be playing with other children of high birth, not blightborn servant girls with an undeserved sense of arrogance.

But now wasn’t the time to say this to my brother.

“Persis,” I said with the utmost gentleness, “it’s not about being smarter, or who is better at sums.”

“Then, what is it?”

I searched for the words I’d been given, the ones that had always sounded so convincing. “It’s our divine responsibility,” I said firmly. “Our blood carries power. That means we must lead, even when it may be uncomfortable for us.” I touched his cheek. “You’re a very modest boy. But you’re a Pansera, and you’re a highblood. That means you were made to do great things. And Shanny—”

“Why not make the girl your thrall, Persis?” Amina broke in, her eyes bright and calculating.

“That would solve that problem,” I muttered. Thralls were much more compliant.

Persis looked horrified. “But I don’t want to feed from Shanny, I just want to play with her. We have other thralls.”

I sighed. “Very well. But you have to understand the world as it is, Persis. Not as you wish it would be. Accepting our place in it doesn’t make us cruel. It would be cruel not to lead the blightborn. They worship us. They wish to be led. They look up to us. How lost without us they all would be!”

Persis still looked unconvinced. His mouth twisted a little, but he nodded—because I was his older sister and he trusted me.

The room blurred. How had I been such a fool? My words rang in my ears. I could taste them now and they were bitter. How had I dared to teach my brother such awful lies? Because I had been taught the same, as a child. And I had believed it all too easily. Arrogance and cruelty had come more naturally to me than to Persis.

The dream was thinning. Persis was slipping away. I reached out, trying to hold onto my little brother. “Persis!”

But he was gone. I was drifting again, floating away from the memory.

Regan. A man’s voice brushed my mind.

Not Viktor. Not Kage.

Regan, the voice repeated.

I frowned. I didn’t recognize the voice. But it was deep, and though persistent, the tone was gentle.

Where are you?

Who are you? Is this real?

It’s real. I’m real. The voice became a little more urgent. I’ve been trying to reach you, but he has you carefully shielded.

Who has me shielded? Shielded from what? I asked crossly. Vaguely I began to realize I was in a great deal of pain. The dream had blocked the pain out. Now it was starting to come back. Who are you?

I believe you’ve been given medicines to suppress the pain you must be in. Also ones to keep you from waking up and to stop you from dreaming.

But I just had a dream, I insisted. I was with Persis.

Persis. That’s your little brother, isn’t it? The medicine must be wearing off. You’ll soon wake up.

That explained the pain that was swiftly returning. I groaned, trying to find some sense of my body. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t see.

Where are you? Can you tell me anything about the place you are? Who is with you?

Where am I? My heart lurched. I’m here with you … Confusion tangled my thoughts. Persis. I … My mind felt thick and water-logged. I don’t know where I am.

All right, I want you to take it slowly. Go gently, the man’s voice cautioned. Very carefully, try to open your eyes. I expect it will hurt a bit. What do you see?

I fought to clear my vision, to pull my eyelids apart. Just for a second, long enough to see …

I cried out as pain detonated.