Tristesse was not the only one. Lorna Heathcote-Stone was killed Sunday night.

Garnett Valliere went mad after seeing her friend's body when she went to her bedroom. Garnett and Lorna were no longer suspects.

Ten Dandelion System contestants asked to drop out by the next morning.

I was no longer suspected, too, but I was lost. I had no idea what to do next.

Without telling Aideen, Oda, Oriana, or Annabelle, I threw a thick and heavy cloak over my dress and went outside.

It was snowing, great white flakes like dandelion seeds touched my skin and I am reminded that it's winter and a season had already passed.

In autumn, I met Oda and Aideen. In autumn, I got sick. In autumn, I met Otto and Oscar.

In autumn, I was naive. I thought the princess was rude, but not that she would drag me into such chaos. I thought the prince was strange, but not that he shares a body with the soul of his long-gone twin. I thought the Dandelion System was just—the Dandelion System.

I never thought I'd fall in love with someone. I didn't know that The Dandelion System contestants would be killed. I didn't know I would be so calm whilst knowing this.

I looked at the tower, Otto's tower, the black contrasting against the white sky and white trees and white snow. I wonder how Otto and Oscar feel being trapped in the tower. In stories, it was always a princess who was locked in the tower. In stories, they were always rescued.

When I opened the door to Otto's room, I felt ashamed for hoping that it is Oscar.

I am even more ashamed when I realize it is.

"Oscar."

He sat on Otto's bed with his face in his hands and back bent wearily. When he heard me he turned his face. His brow was pressed together, and his lips are set into a thin line. He looked defeated.

Only he can wear such an expression.

"It's snowing outside," I whispered.

"I know." His replies are sure and short, but I don't care. It's enough.

"Would you care to take a walk with me?" I asked. He didn't answer. I was about to give up hope but he stood up, his bed creaking from the loss of weight, and walked to me. I stepped out of the room, and he followed.

We continued silently down the stairs and outside, the snow now a thick layer of white on the ground. White like Otto and Oda's skin and hair. Winter, I realize, suits them. Oda, Otto, and Oscar. The three siblings who hurt each other more than anyone.

"Karlina."

My eyes widened when I heard him say my name. He knew my name. My real name.

"How did you know?" I asked. He tried to smile, but the muscles in his face seem too tired of even that.

"I saw the list of names that day. Your name isn't Karina, it's Karlina. Oda made you change it, right?" I tried to keep the tears from escaping, but it does anyways. I laughed, white clouds billowing out mouth.

"Yes," I said. "Now that I think of it you do see and know everything."

"Ever since the day I died, I was here, sharing this body with my twin, but only a few seasons ago have I been able to control it," he told me, giving up on the smile. "He's not trying anymore."

I didn't know what he meant, but I sensed that there was a change.

"You know, Karlina," Oscar said, "Otto is terrible at playing at flute."

"He played for me and Oda once." I remembered. "It wasn't that bad."

"You're lucky you only heard him play it once, and that was after he spent days blowing on it. The first day I was stuck with him playing the flute I thought I would go insane."

"I'm surprised you didn't break it."

"I almost did. Instead I took over his body and played it for him, teaching him how to hold his fingers. We didn't talk, but I think he understood I did it for him."

I imagined the scene, him sitting on the bed and playing the flute for Otto, and then I can almost see it—an identical boy sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Oscar's fingers with interest.

"Do you know how to play the flute?"

"Not really, but I am better at it than him. Strange, isn't it? He was always better in everything else."

"I'm sure he's not better than you at scaring someone."

"Oh, are you talking about the first time we met?"

"Not particularly, but now that I remember, yes." I looked at him. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"

"I'm sorry?" He smiled while saying this, eyes gazing far away. "I never imagined a few days later you would willingly follow me into a room."

"I wanted to know more about you. Oda told me about you—the forgotten prince—and I couldn't take my mind off you. I wanted to hear your story." I stopped. "Does that sound strange?"

"Yes. You are strange. You are the first person to ever listen to me." He turned away. "And I'm glad."

I feel myself choke on words that I can't say.

"Otto gets scared at nights too," he continued. "I like the night better, so I would take over it for him. He also doesn't like eating meat too much. He prefers sweet things over salty or more flavorful foods."

We reached the forest and I stopped. He turned to look at me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I—I saw a girl's body there a few days ago."

I hadn't even realized it, but I had never cried for Tristesse. And now the tears fell. Initially I had been so scared that I blocked her from my memories, but now I began to remember.

"She was a beautiful, but very, very, sad, girl. Her sweetheart died, and she was adopted by a family here in Taraxac, and then she joined the Dandelion System. I'm sure she didn't want to." I choked in my words. I was sure, but I didn't know why. "She always wore black, and a black veil over her face. She was always mourning. Even when she died, she was holding a locket in her hand."

I buried my face in my hands and sobbed.

"I invited her to join my friends and I one day, and she had promised she would. But now she never can. She was only eighteen, like us."

I almost fell down, but Oscar caught me.

He held me tight and let me cry.

"And another girl died last night," I said. "Lorna. I never liked her, but her friend, Garnett, went mad. They said she cried and cried. I don't want anyone to be killed anymore."

Oscar rested his head on top of mine. "You're such a kind person, Karlina. You would never take a life, and I'm glad. You're a good sister, and a good friends. You don't wish death upon those you don't like, and not even me—although I was so horrible to you."

"No!" I raised my head. "You have your own circumstances! It's different." He shook his head slowly.

"Even if it was you who was in my place, Karlina, you wouldn't have turned out like me." My eyes grew blurry, and I laughed.

"Let's go to the forest," I said.

"Are you sure?" I nodded.

We started walking in the forest, and his hands held mine. His hands were warm.

"Tell me, what do you like?" I remembered the first time I met Oscar: that day Otto also asked me to tell him about me. They are alike, after all.

"I like to play the piano. It would be nice if one day we could play a song together. I like walks too, on snowy days and on sunny days. I used to think I was boring, but now I realized something."

He turned to look at me.

"What is it?"

"Maybe it's not that I'm boring, but that I don't mind being someone without a story to tell. I would rather tell the story of someone else."

He laughed softly.

"Would you tell my story?"

"Yes, but sometimes I feel like I don't know anything about you."

"What do you want to know?"

"What things do you like?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know if I even like anything." I laughed loudly, surprisingly myself. He looked at me with his signature smirk. "I like the forest. I like the outside—I haven't been outside a lot. I've always wanted to leave the castle grounds. Go see the outside world." I nodded.

"I like birds. I can see them from the window sometimes. I like books, too, more than Otto does, actually."

"Do you ever talk to Otto?" I asked. He tilted his head up to look at the sky, just as colorless as the ground. The flakes land gently on his hair and skin. "With real words."

"Yes." His voice was coarse. "He tells me he's sorry."

I yearn to reach out to him, to touch him like the snow, melting into his hair and onto his skin. But I didn't.

"How did you reply?"

"I didn't reply. I didn't know what I should say," he whispered, so low I almost couldn't hear it in the still silence. "But I'm sorry too."

Both of them are, Otto for been the firstborn and loved by everyone, and Oscar for always hurting him. Now both of them have nothing, and they finally find solace together.

Two souls in one body.

One person made into two.

For the first time, I don't think of how different they are, but how similar. If they weren't princes—if this was another life and they had another family, would it have turned out differently? Would they not apologize to each other, but laugh together?

But they can't, because they don't. Because Otto is the crown prince and Oscar died years ago.

"I love you." The words flowed out of my mouth before I can think.

He didn't reply, and I tilted my head up too, to look at the wide, empty sky and the snow falling, falling, falling. Serenely, without a care in the world, despite knowing they'll dissolve at contact, they fall. But I'm the same. If touching Oscar and kissing him one more time ends everything, I'll gladly accept.

"I don't want to say it," his voice is cracked and shaky. "Because it might be the last time."

A million thoughts race in my mind and I don't like them. I want to ask him what he means and ask him how to change it. I want to rewind time. Save Oscar, save Otto, save Catalina and Tristesse and Lorna and Garnett. Save me from falling deeper but never reaching the end.

"Don't say it then." I laughed. "I'll say it. Again and again. I love you, Oscar. I love you."