“All I have are questions and theories, and right now, anything is possible,” I say. “I mean, for all I know, she might have been part of the whole plot, effectively kidnapping me, and then she was betrayed and put in there with me. And if that were the case, then she was part of the cruelty, so am I still supposed to feel grateful toward her? Am I still supposed to believe thatshe cared about me? I trusted her, but she was a lie. I don’t… I can’t…”
I squeeze my eyes closed, grateful for Anarchy’s quiet presence. “All I know is that I need to focus on the battle ahead of me.”
“If I may,” Anarchy says quietly. “You need a name for her. A name that gives you permission to accept the care she gave you—whether or not it was willingly given—and allows you to move past the pain you feel when you think about her.”
I ponder this for a long moment.
So long that Anarchy nudges my shoulder. “Be sure that the name you give her isn’t about her. It’s about you. The impact she had on you.”
Finally, I say, “Sosia.”
Anarchy’s lips part. “Of course. Someone who steps in for another.”
“It carries no accusation,” I say. “No judgment. She stepped in for my biological mother and kept me alive.” I take a deep breath. “Maybe one day, when I have answers, I can give her another name. One that reflects who she really was and her true intentions. But for now, this is what I need to call her.”
A little of my emotional turmoil fades.
I have no control over the choices my biological mother made—or makes in the future. I don’t have answers about the woman who raised me—the woman I’ve now resolved to callSosia. And I can’t control what my father believes or how he acts.
I had no say over what was done to me.
But Iwillcontrol my purpose.
At the beginning of our last night on the island, the keeper wakes me from my daylight sleep earlier than usual.
Also unexpected is the smile on his lips.
“I have the answer,” he says, beaming at me in his brown-eyed, dark-skinned form.
“Answer to what?” I ask groggily, wiping the sleep from my eyes. I’m naked under the light blanket and the space where he would normally sleep feels empty now that he’s kneeling opposite me.
“How to free the panthers from their curse.”
I bolt upright. “Really?”
“Come with me.”
I snatch up my clothes, stopping only to pull on the long, black pants and tunic and wrap my blindfold around my eyes before I hurry after him.
We meet the panthers on the beach, where they sit on their haunches, eyeing the keeper with narrowed eyes, their snouts near-crinkling with hisses. I don’t blame them after what happened the first time the keeper tried to help them.
Lucian and Anarchy arrive a moment later, both at the same time and both from the direction of Lucian’s hut, which seems to be where Anarchy sleeps these days.
I haven’t pried. Simply noted the way the backs of their hands brush whenever they walk together, and the slight flush of color in Anarchy’s pale cheeks when Lucian’s around, and the way Lucian seems completely at ease with her.
The keeper plants his feet and his grin grows broader as he announces, “Gargoyle blood.”
I eye him warily. “Huh?”
“Anarchy was biting Lucian when my magic hit her. It must have been the combination of gargoyle magic and dark magic that forced the curse to break. After all, the curse was imposed by a gargoyle.”
Anarchy’s lips are pursed. “That makes sense.”
But Lucian is already backpedaling, all relaxation vanishing from his features. “No fucking way I’m letting them bite my fingers.”
“Not necessary.” The keeper chuckles, seeming darkly entertained by Lucian’s discomfort. “I just need a few drops of your blood.”
Lucian glares. “Fine.”
