Our approach to the palace was the exact opposite of our approach to the temple. Slow and cautious. With trepidation, I walked along the crumbling, cobbled path toward the gatehouse. Remiel walked behind me, his double-bladed scythe glinting in the pale sunlight.

I glanced up when we walked through the large archway. Everything that wasn't made of Ravenstone had long since burned in the fires. There was no iron gate to open or glass left in the windows. The golden doors that had once greeted visitors from all over the world were nothing more than shining streaks along the white stone steps. A gaping black hole bid us welcome.

"What is it?" Remiel asked when I halted suddenly.

"The doors...were they made of gold?"

His attention shifted from my face to the entrance. "They were gold plated, and the doorknobs were giant black pearls from the Crystal Sea." He held up his hand and made a fist. "This big around."

"I can see it. I remember."

With a little more excitement, I headed inside the palace. Ash made the stone floors gritty beneath my shoes, and along the walls of the foyer were deeper piles of powdery cinders. Likely, the flames had entered far enough to burn chairs, statues, or chandeliers, but since those objects were easily consumed, they hadn't been able to sustain the fires long. Only a few steps further and we entered a world untouched by destruction.

Remiel sucked in a breath. "It's like the temple."

Our steps echoed in the cavernous grand hall. Four corridors extended off the main room, two on either side, and before us were two great, curving staircases with banisters of the same gold as the front doors. Even in the dark and beneath the grime, the metal glinted.

'Moranthia! You do have two feet. You don't have to slide down the railing every time.' My father's lavender eyes held no anger as he stooped to straighten the bow in my hair.

'It's not nearly as much fun.'

'I suppose that's all that matters.'

My mother's tinkling laugh drifted from upstairs.'Oh really.'

"Morana."

I blinked away the mists of memories and smiled at Remiel. He did not smile back. Fear, and something a little like madness, peered out through his dark eyes.

In a flat voice, he asked, "Where did you go?"

"I used to slide down that banister. It exasperated my parents. Remy, what's wrong?"

He pulled me against him and pressed a kiss against my forehead. "I'm sorry. I saw your gaze turn inward, and it made me panic."

"Mara can't reach us in here."

I don't know where that thought came from, but I knew it was true as soon as I said it. She could not go where her flames couldn't go. Of course, it still begged the question as to why she had attacked me on our first night here. The unlocked memories painted a far different picture of my sister. One that loved her family. Years of burning would drive even the kindest soul insane. And I suspected Mara was far from the kindest.

Remiel's shadows curled around us. My assurances didn't seem to put him at ease, and he struggled to let me go. It wasn't at all like the confident man who'd followed me across the continent.

"You're right," he said at last, gripping his weapon tightly as he peered around the room. "Where should we go first?"

I nibbled on the edge of my thumbnail as I sifted through muddied recollections. Finally, I pointed to the left. "I believe that hallway will take us to the stairs that lead to the cells below."

"Let's go–"

"But," I said, edging toward the staircases. "If we do find how to get to Dycidium down there, we're going to need supplies. Including a change of clothes. These itch worse than nettles."

Chuckling, he bowed and gestured up the stairs. "Whatever the princess wants."

That earned an eye roll. "I'm being practical."

"It's okay to say you want to explore a little. Now that we're here, we have a little extra time."

"It really does itch," I said with a whine as we walked up the stairs.

Thirty minutes later, I had been in and out of several bedrooms only to come up empty-handed. A second flight of stairs took us to the next level. One I recognized from the memories of Mother's birthday party. There was a ballroom with dusty chandeliers to my right, and on the far side of that room were doors that opened to the terrace where guests had mingled that night, waiting for the firestars.

Remiel stepped into the ballroom, his expression pensive as he took in the ornate room. I wondered if he, too, imagined night. The scarlet runners on glass tables piled high with exotic game and rich desserts. Stringed instruments weaving a spell on those who danced, and the heavy floral scent in the air, courtesy of all the flower arrangements in the windows.

Spying a narrow set of stairs at the very end of the hall, I called out, "Remy, is that the east tower?"

"It is."

"I'm going up there. Are you coming?"

Twirling his scythe in lazy circles, he nodded absentmindedly. "I'll be right up."

There were only two rooms at the top of the stairs. One was open and rimmed in windows. A perfect observation spot indeed for watching firestars. The other was a bedroom.

Mara's room.

I hesitated in the doorway as my eyes swept over the large space. Decorated simply, it still screamed wealth and status. Not even Astreia's bedding had been so plush, and the large green and gold rug covering the cold stone floors was finely woven. Not a thread out of place after all these years of neglect.

A mahogany writing desk was positioned right in front of an arched window, the glass somehow still intact. Maybe the height of the tower had saved it, or was it possible Mara maintained a shred of control when she burned?

My breath caught when I spied the papers on the desk. A quill with dried ink on its nib laid beside the wax for a seal. Elegant script, faded and covered in dust, stretched across the frail pages, and I leaned close to read it, not daring to pick up the paper.

The army is drawing closer. I hear the war drums even now. Father says it is time, but Mother wants to wait. She thinks she alone can stop this war, using the fire that was once a curse to end the aberration that calls himself a king. But her power is not what it once was. Not since

Not since? A heavy blot of ink stained the space where the next word should go. I looked to the next page, but it was blank. She had been interrupted and never came back to finish her thought.

"Damn it," I muttered, grinding my teeth together as I went to the wardrobe in the corner. There was a nagging sense that the missing information was vital, but it faded to the background the moment I opened the wardrobe's door.

Remiel stood on the terrace when I made it back downstairs. Setting the bag I'd packed down, I wandered to his side. The sun had nearly set, and the Ravenstone shimmered with captured light. A silent, silver beacon in a world that had no need of it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stay down here so...what are you wearing?" he asked, his mouth falling open as he pushed off the railing.

I twirled, making the edges of the light gray cloak flare out. My sister had very little in her wardrobe that was practical for rough travel through woods or combing through dungeons, but I had put together a few pieces that would serve my needs. It didn't hurt that they were gorgeous. Astreia would have been proud.

I'd donned a linen bodice in deep purple. It pushed my breasts up to an obscene height, but the velvet jacket with puffed sleeves I wore over it hid the worst of it. The jacket ended just above my hips.

"Mara had trousers. Can you believe it?" I asked, running my hand over the supple leather.

They fit far better than Yoko's. As much as I liked the idea that my sister and I were the same size, it all saddened me. We would never get to share clothes or do any of the things that sisters did. The king had taken that life away from us.

He exhaled dramatically, then pulled me against him. "I'm very glad I don't have to hide how much I want you anymore, because I think if you'd walked out in that outfit before, and I couldn't do this, I might have died."

I didn't have to ask him what this was. As soon as the last word left his lips, he put his mouth to a different use, closing it over mine with a fierceness that left me clinging to him to stay upright. His tongue slipped along the seam of my mouth, teasing and tasting.

"Come on now," he said, breaking the kiss and taking my hand.

"I thought we had extra time," I said, dazed by desire.

Remiel smirked. "Not that much time."

We raced down the stairs, through the hallway, and finally stopped at the door from my memories. Plain and wooden, it shouldn't have elicited any emotion, but the longer I stared at it, the more I wanted to run.

"You're right." Remiel's voice was low. No trace of teasing or desire left in it as he looked at the door. "Something is down there. Something dangerous."

The old me welled up, screaming that we should turn back, but I shoved her right back into the depths. She had no place here. Not in this world. Not if we were going to survive.

"We don't have a choice."