I walk myself back to the Common Room without making any sound. My feet glide across the floor like they're half floating. The weight of silver in my hand seems to disappear as my mind just keeps replaying that image of Lucy.

So, that's why she's so on edge with Tyrian around; scared that he'll expose something. The sides of my head start to pound.

But it still doesn't make any sense. Why does she hold such hatred towards the Fae? Is it just because of her secret? Is it because of the story about Evander? Or, is it something completely different that I couldn't even comprehend?

Her hair. Always three shades lighter than her mother and Axil; tiny sparkles in it that caught the light. Her skin... always pale and cool... her figure always slender and her loose curls always falling over her shoulders to cover her ears. Have I really never seen her with her hair up?

And regardless of everything... I don't know why my first thought is... No one seems to know... did Adam?

"Back just in time!" the man squeals turning around with a plate of pancakes.

I fix my face quickly, masking my confusion. "Oh, thank you... Here," I say reaching for the plate. "I'm just going to set this down and have a look in the shop."

"Oh, but ya should eat em' while they're hot," he says holding out his arms.

I smile tightly, just wanting to get away from the crowded room.

"I'll take it. I'm starving." Tyrian appears right behind me scooping the plate from my grasp.

"Tyrian. Haven't seen you in a while. How have ya been?" the man says.

"Excellent, Ed," Tyrian says now coming to stand next to him. "Had a good season so far?"

"The farm's been great... life's been great..." he says shrugging. "There's nothing for me to complain about."

"What a saint," Tyrian says putting his hand to his heart. "It's nice to see you doing well."

Ed looks back over to me, "Have you gotten the chance to meet the famous Zaria? She came to town this festival."

He laughs, "Oh yes, I've met her. Bit of a temper, I can see how you were able to transform into a dragon so easily. I sure hope she hasn't caused you much trouble," he says with a pout.

Ed drops his hand. "Ah, nothin' of the sort."

"Surprising," he blurts. "Well, wait till you meet the other one, she's a handful."

And though I don't feel like sticking up for Lucy after hiding her identity from me, I raise my voice.

"Must I tell you again? You will not speak of the princess in that manner."

Ed's eyes widen. "So, you guys really know each other?" he asks surprised, looking back and forth between us. I must have a screwed-up look on my face because Ed says, "What princess?" he asks, finally catching up with Tyrian's words.

"Princess—"

"The Ice Queen herself, Princess Lucy," Tyrin interrupts me. "Watch out," he whispers to Ed. "She certainly has a way with words."

"Princess Lucy..." he stutters. "That's the lady who came in with you last night." His face scrunches up looking horrified. "And I didn't even know. She's just sleeping in the same beds as all the commoners—"

"I don't mean to interrupt, sir. But Lucy isn't like that," I say to him. "She actually prefers a bit of normalcy now and then." The vision of her pointy ears flashes through my mind again and I have to force it out.

Tyrian scoffs and puts the plate of pancakes down at the nearest table. "Who would have guessed?"

Ed turns back over to me and grabs my hands. "What should I make her? Tell me, what does she like? I know I said the orange juice was fresh but if I'm being honest, it was squeezed early yesterday morning. And, I'm getting to the bottom of my berry basket where they're all a bit squished. What did you think about the pancakes? Were they as delicious as you said they were or were you just being polite?" He shakes my hand, his brown eyes wide. "Tell me. You have to tell me," he whispers frantically.

"Hey, hey," I talk over him. "Everything is fine," I try to plead. "Lucy will love your pancakes and it doesn't matter that the orange juice is a day old. In fact, I don't even think we have fresh orange juice at the palace."

Tyrian rolls his eyes and flicks the bit of hair that hangs between his eyebrows.

Ed lets go of my hands, his own shaking as they hover over mine. "I have so much work to do..." he mutters before racing off to the kitchen.

I catch one more sideways glance at Tyrian eating my extra stack of pancakes, unbothered. I don't mean to do it, but my eyes squint into a glare before I stalk off towards the shop.

The resemblance to Crow's Point is uncanny. Tables filled with jars and pouches. Homey smells dancing around in the air in a colorful blend. Embroidered patches line the shelves: Nut butter, jellies and jams, honey, sugar cane, and ginger root. Inside a chilled cabinet, there's chocolate, ice cream, milk, berries, and cakes.

I force down the memories I shared with John, sneaking off to carnivals and laughing our way on a sugar high through food trucks of popcorn and cotton candy.

Because as much as I despised my life back in Flesherg, I can't help but think if I hadn't come here at all... maybe everything would be normal... or as normal as things could be.

I hear Tyrian's soft footsteps behind me this time.

"What do you want?" I ask impatiently.

"What is it with you devilish people?" he stammers, offended. "Honestly, you would think you were raised in a barn."

I huff a laugh at him. "The irony."

"What," he says, his voice lightening.

"You may think you know me, and maybe you know more than you're letting on, but something tells me you have no idea who I am."

"Or, who you were," he says without missing a beat.

"In the flashes," he says lowering his voice to barely a whisper. "I could see some of Lucy's visions as well. This connection..." he wanders off. "And not only did I see her, but I saw the vision of a girl flanked by two people. She was in a mansion, and she was scared. All of a sudden, the view changed and I was looking through the eyes of the girl. There was a man. Much older, with violence in his eyes. I could smell the sweat collecting on his forehead. He was nervous." He pauses for a moment squinting. "I couldn't make out what the girl was saying or what exactly was happening at that moment... but I could smell the fear."

He looks me in the eyes. My heart starts to race. I know the exact story of a girl in a mansion with a man made of violence. The story that I have been trying to block out since it happened. I shake my head. "No," I whisper, but no sound comes out.

"And then I felt nothing at all. I couldn't sense anything. It was as if someone turned a switch." He snaps his fingers. "Everything became numb and I knew what had happened. One can't speak to the dead for hundreds of years without getting to know death itself."

"Hundreds of years," I repeat, confused. "How old are you?"

He waves his hand. "Besides the point," he says. His face squints. "I've been wanting to ask you..."

And even though everything inside me is screaming to get away and run from this room, this man, this story, my feet stay planted. "Yes?"

"A voice... when you were teetering on the edge of death," he swallows. "Did you hear a voice?"

My blood runs cold and I shake my head once more. "Get out of my head," I say in a voice that's not entirely mine.

"She came to me that day," he says.

My racing heart stops dead in its tracks, all the heat from my body vanishing. "What?"

"Maria," he says. "She came to me that day. She was always looking out for you. We talked quite a lot. She watched you every day."

The tears start to bubble in my eyes. "Stop," I choke out.

"That wasn't the first time," he keeps going. "Every time you had heard a whisper, your mother had come to find me. I was her bridge."

"Bridge?" I question, the two halves of my brain arguing.

"Between the dead and the living. You need a connection. She reached out to me, and I to her. I could give her a drop of life. Only temporarily, but a few moments were all you seemed to need."

I stay silent for a long time biting my tongue. "Ca— can you reach her now?"

His face falls and it's answer enough. "I've tried," he says earnestly, and I believe him. "I tried the moment I saw you at the ball. I thought she might want to say a few words to you, but I couldn't find her."

I nod my head in defeat. "So," I draw. "She's... gone. For real this time?"

"I'm not sure." He's quiet, holding his hands together, he takes a step back. "I'm sorry. I just thought you might want to know. Give you a bit of dignity knowing that even beyond the grave your mother cared for you... dearly," he adds.

"How did you two meet?" I don't know why this is the first question that comes to mind, but it's the one that comes out first.

"It's... a ...." he stalls. "That's a long story."

I purse my lips and nod. My voice still a bit shaky I say, "Thank you," and he nods backing out of the room, leaving me alone.

I continue to shake my head. After everything, all of my guilt and regret... and the person who is here with us is the one that sent me her voice.

I don't want to like him, Lucy definitely doesn't and I can see why, now, but maybe he's not all bad?

I grab the first two things off the shelf in front of me and walk out.

"Stay away from the man with the answers." A hissing voice, stinging my ears. I drop the jars in my hands, the glass breaking as I clutch my hands over my ears and head.

The pounding sharpens and squeezes until it finally releases. And as I look up Lucy is hunched under the doorframe at the entrance to the Common Room.

Whatever just happened, happened to both of us.