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“As in, it could knock a man out if you chucked it straight at him.”

Another laugh came bubbling out of Rose. An archer and a fantasy nerd. The girl’s warmth was pulling her in. “How dark,” she said.

“Not as dark as Chapter 26, I’ll tell you that.”

The rain had eased by now, but Rose glanced reluctantly down the street. A small spark was growing. It’d been a long time since she’d talked to someone so easily, and it unnerved her.

“You live far?” Laine asked.

“Not really,” Rose replied. “Just don’t feel like going back.”

Undeterred by Rose’s listless manner, Laine slid down from the steps with a cheery hop. “Then let’s get out of this rain for a bit. There’s a great new coffee shop several blocks from here. They make a wicked hot chocolate, my treat. And I can show you the book.”

Rose blinked. Hot chocolate. Books. Was it always this easy, making a friend?

After a beat, she smiled back and said, “I’d like that.”

And you smiled, too, as you passed the girls, looked away as they sprinted into the drizzle, giggling with their backpacks held over their heads. You thought to yourself, good for them. And now, years later, you find yourself thinking idly back to that afternoon, and you wonder what ever happened to those girls, and you hope they’re still friends, that they’ll be friends forever.

Of course you do. You had no way of seeing what would happen in several years, that on a fateful day, one girl would sell her soul in order to save the other girl’s life.

You couldn’t have known.

4

Confirmations of new Regents are rare events.

Rarer still, for someone who has only been a Harbinger for a year. Terran worked for Raven for a decade before he was chosen, and several decades more until his death. Even Étienne, who is barely a year older than me and the youngest of the Regents, had only been confirmed as a Regent after he’d worked for Thorn for five years.

My nomination has to be a mistake. Surely Raven cannot think I’m qualified for this.

I stand in a daze before a four-story estate in Holland Park, the property surrounded by wrought iron fencing and illuminated by lampposts. The glittering sheets of snow from yesterday have melted, revealing the lush grounds and old oaks, as well as the ivy climbing thick and green across the building’s exterior, swallowing the central tower of redbrick. A sentry dressed in a fine suit stands at attention at the open gates.

In an already exquisite neighborhood, this is still easily the most beautiful building on the street, and yet passersby don’t bother casting it a second glance. To them, it is as if it doesn’t exist at all, as if there is something much more interesting at the end of the street, that they are too busy in their conversations or thoughts to think of looking.

But a few do, a steady trickle of guests who turn in at the gate and pass the sentry with a wordless nod. Other Regents, all dressed in various levels of finery to partake in an event worthy of gods.

I blush anxiously at the sight of them in dresses and suits. My own hair is loose and flowing tonight, and under my coat, I’m wearing the nicest outfit I own—a strapless, forest green dress with a slim waistline, opening into long layers of skirts that skim my ankles. It had been my prom dress, and Laine had helped me pick it out.

The memory makes me imagine her by my side. This time, she is wearing the outfit she’d worn to prom, and her hair is curled and tied up in an elaborate knot. Her arms are crossed.

What’s the problem? she says. That dress always deserved to be seen more than once.

I laugh a little. “Does it help justify the ridiculous amount I spent on it back then?” I mutter.

Listen, if you didn’t get it, you would’ve regretted it for the rest of your life. She grins encouragingly at me, and if she were real, she would have reached over to pinch my arm. You look like a princess. Act like it.

I smile, even as her image fades back into my thoughts. Maybe I should have picked something that doesn’t remind me of her. Or maybe it’s just the human part of me, stressing over something so trivial. I might become the understudy to Death tonight. Surely no gods care what I’m wearing.

Your Regent, Terran Harmont, is dead.

The words are still echoing in my mind as I follow the trickle of attendees toward the main entrance. The thought of him being gone is so far-fetched as to be impossible. To me, Terran was as good as immortal. I picture him now—statuesque and sobering, a man with a grave countenance, fearsome strength, and eyes that were kinder than one would expect.

Terran had been a good mentor, and I feel the weight of his loss. How can I possibly replace him?

Because I don’t have a choice. Because if I don’t, Laine dies.

The thought makes me shudder. In the growing twilight, I picture her face again, her quick smile and merry eyes, her arm looped through mine. She has no idea—will never know—that my being a Harbinger is the only thing keeping her alive.