Rosalinda walked until her legs threatened to give way, the fever that had plagued her earlier now nothing but a memory. Night had long swallowed the streets, and the city—once alive with endless chatter and light—lay eerily silent. It was as though the world itself had hidden away, leaving her alone in the hollow dark.

A hand brushed her shoulder. She flinched, spinning sharply.

Seraphine stood there, her sad smile dim beneath the lantern glow. She looked as though she carried the weight ...