Ruan could remember now that he’d come this way before. Not that Samir seemed to need reassurance that he was on the right path. Samir seemed absolutely confident that he was on top of this.

Ruan wasn’t so sure, and he could tell Varajas wasn’t either. But all they could do was follow, and watch Samir’s back. They’d gotten this far without succumbing to the terrors of this place. They just needed to make it a little farther.

Or did they? A thought occurred. “Samir,” he said, “could you get us out of here without us finding Peyter?”

“Yes,” Samir answered easily. “But I’m not going to leave him behind. Not again.”

“What are you going to do?” Varajas asked the question that had been on the tip of Ruan’s tongue.

Samir didn’t answer. Ruan might have found that more suspicious if he weren’t wrestling with his own version of that question.

Everything was upside down. In the years he and Varajas had been apart, it had been easy to forget all the complicated parts, to reframe the Varajas in his mind as a villain and lock away everything that might contradict that idea. Ruan had spent those years proving himself to the High Father, but also building the conviction in himself.

Now all the questions from years ago seemed fresh and new, and Samir was with them—the living, breathing proof that Varajas and Ruan had been right to chase after Sidaine and the High Father had been wrong to stop them.

But none of that changed the cold, hard fact that Varajas was a knight. There might have been arguments to make for his actions before he left the order, but everything he’d done after that had been in the name of the enemy, and Ruan couldn’t ignore that. Knowing what he knew now, about the power the knights had been guarding, the power that still existed in the world—

Could he betray Varajas again?

What did Ruan owe Donatien? What did he owe Varajas? What did he owe himself?

They reached the forest. Varajas looked around, startled. Samir didn’t even break stride. “What is this place?” Varajas asked.

“If the knife has a home,” Samir answered, “I think we’re seeing it. Or at least, a reflection of it.”

It wasn’t any nicer being here the second time. Sharp branches still seemed to be reaching for them, scraping and catching at their clothes as they pushed forward. The ground was soft with weeds and roots that threatened to trip the moment Ruan stopped paying attention. It was dark beneath the canopy, and the air smelled sharply of rot.

“Is this a real place?” Ruan asked. Even in the midst of all the rest, he was curious.

“I don’t know.” Samir paused. “But it feels like…I think in the same way the Ulek we were in wasn’t real, but there is a real Ulek—this place isn’t real, but there is a real version of this forest. Somewhere.”

That wasn’t in the least bit reassuring. “It is possible we’ll get sent there instead of back to Ulek?”

Samir shook his head. “I can get us home. The binding I cast—it may or may not have gotten us into this trouble, but it should also guide us back.”

Except the binding had been Samir and Varajas. “You didn’t cast it on me.”

A quick look back, Samir flashed a smile. “I won’t leave you behind. I promise.”

At Ruan’s side, in a voice pitched for Ruan’s ears alone, Varajas said, “Neither will I.”

Not this time, was the implication. Ruan nodded, tight lipped. He wasn’t going to argue about it. Even if he was having trouble believing it.

Varajas knew—had to know—that as soon as they were out of this place, they were enemies again.

Ruan had sacrificed everything for duty. He’d armored himself with it so tight that it had kept every other thought from his head. That had been the only way to survive. Now that shield had cracked, and Ruan was honestly terrified. To stay on the path of duty meant breaking himself again. The other option—to listen to Varajas, to consider that the High Father might be wrong—that would mean he’d been wrong all along. That would mean all these years he’d been wrong. That time had been wasted.

It would mean he’d failed so profoundly he couldn’t even wrap his mind around it.

A part of him—a very small part—wanted to stay in here and put off having to make that decision as long as possible. Unfortunately, he recognized this part of the forest. “We’re getting close.”

Samir took a deep breath and rested a hand on Bolt’s head. “I’m ready,” he said.