Nate's room was full of things that fluttered, hovered, and flashed.

There were images on his walls, mostly of Brook and Victoria, but I spotted some of my beaming self—mid-run, on the ground, or with family and staff. One was of Nate and I, wide-eyed after a failed cooking session in the kitchen, its previously pristine walls decorated with blackened food. (Victoria had snapped it just before Nate had promised to clean up, and I'd nearly snapped my neck nodding. Head-of-staff Olivia had screamed murder, either assuming one had been committed or committing to one in the future. Annette had claimed she would faint, but recovered admirably when no one stepped forward to assist her.) More images showed our row of smiling faces at the beach, Nate and Brook braiding my hair, and myself alone—or thinking I was—raptly watching my screen-in-the-wall.

Nate, strapping into his "walking suit", said, "Come on, breakfast time."

Roppo the pup yipped and hopped around my ankles, wagging his tail excitedly. We'd all decided on his name together, even Annette, though Victoria had said he was mine now.

Down in the kitchen, our every move was watched by a beady-eyed Olivia. Two brown-haired girls talked quietly in a corner.

The taller one broke away, seeing me. "I'm going to see what my girlfriend is doing. Brooklyn hates it when I leave her side." Laughing nastily, she snarled, "Freak!" as she knocked past me.

I didn't have to ask who she was.

Nate, scowling at the other girl, shifted closer to me.

"I'm sorry," she said. She looked exasperated. "Look...if you met Gwen's parents...well, you'd get that she never had a chance. I think she's good deep down—like, deep down. She doesn't think so, though. She thinks she has to be awful to get anywhere, and that there's no other way. This'll all be a good lesson for her, in the end. Oh, and, um," she added to me, as she moved to follow her friend, "they're not together yet, no matter what Gwen says. Love the hair!"

As we were left with a nervy Olivia, the word "yet" echoed distressingly in my mind. And what had that meant, "a good lesson in the end"?

"That was Kacey," Nate said, not relaxing one bit. "She's okay, but this won't be fun—Gwen sees you as a threat. She should, you're way nicer than her...prettier, too."

He led me outside, into the morning sun, to a beautifully set table.

Indeed, breakfast was not fun.

Sitting at Brook's side, Gwen stared at me as I ate. I forced myself to meet her sneer rather than look down, even as my free hand twisted on my leg. A hand covered mine. At my own side, Nate smiled at me. But he jerked as his mother spoke.

"Must she eat with us?" Annette hissed in my direction. "This is getting ridiculous—how long are we going to keep her here?"

It must have taken an extraordinary effort for Gwen not to smile.

Brook and Victoria reddened, but Nate was quicker in his anger. He stood up, eyes blazing. Silence fell at the screech of his chair, and the flowers around us seemed to shrink back.

"This isn't even your house—Dad left it to Vicki!"

Annette went pale. "I am your mother," she growled.

"Since when?" he scoffed, and abandoned the shocked table.

I stood to go after him, but was stopped by two things. Annette's words as she turned on me: "This is your fault, you've been stirring him up—" And my body, suddenly spasming. I tried to act as though nothing was wrong, to hide it, to leave with quick calm steps, but the pain was excruciating. Not yet, I thought. Not yet!

"Terra?" Victoria said.

Brook rose, hesitating toward me. Roppo whined.

I curled away from the table and vomited. Brook caught me as my legs gave out.

I heard Gwen shriek, "What are you doing, Brook? Let someone else!" and Annette yell, "What if she's contagious!" and then all light, all sound, disappeared.

Each time that darkness freed me, I opened my eyes to a nightmare. To needles in my skin, liquid in my mouth—useless against the agony. Tears blurred the worried faces above me, tears that tasted like home and home, like despair. Hands held me down as I struggled, until I was too weak to do more than twitch.

That was when Gwen visited me.

"You know, the doctor said there didn't seem to be anything wrong with you." Her vicious voice was sunny compared to her touch. Helpless, I could only watch as her long, thin fingers gripped my wrist. "So. You're going to find some other family to annoy and somebody else's girlfriend to steal." She leaned in, her breath on my cheek. "This is my family. I earned it. You're not just going to breeze in and take it."

"Can't we both...have earned it?"

Her grip became crushing. "I don't know what you're saying, freak, but it doesn't look like a yes."

I refused to let a single tear escape in her presence.

She shoved my sleeve down over my hand and was just standing up when Victoria walked in—and froze.

"Hey, Mrs. Cain," Gwen said airily.

Shooing her out, Victoria sat on the edge of my bed. "You gave us quite a fright, Terra, darling." For a long moment, she just gazed down at me, seeming to war with something. Finally, she asked, "Do you know what's happening to you?"

I nodded weakly.

"Will it stop?"

I shook my head, feeling a tear at the corner of my eye. Victoria wiped it away.

"I don't know if you're aware of this, Terra, but we're not ready for you to leave us." I faded slightly, but blinked back to her as she began to brush my hair. "How I wish Simon could have been here to meet you. The children's father," she explained, at my confused look. "When I was growing up, all the girls I knew wanted a prince. As much as I wanted to want the same, I simply didn't. Friendships I could manage, and family I loved—still love—dearly, but romance..." She shook her head. "And then there was Simon, beautiful Simon, who was every bit the prince, whose affection I found I had somehow won. I thought, to reject it would be..." She sighed. "He remained my friend and confidant even after realizing I could never love him as he needed. Oh, he would have been absolutely delighted by you."

Deeply touched, I put my hand on Victoria's cheek. She held my wrist and, seeing me wince, lifted my sleeve.

She gasped—I might have, too. The bruising seemed to worsen before our eyes. Victoria swore.

"That evil little beast!"

With some energy, I shook my head.

Muttering furiously, she grabbed the box she kept at my bedside and took out a tube. She used its cream to rub away the ache, though the hideous bruise stayed. "Gwen won't be around for much longer. She always comes 'round to her senses, our Brook."

Her beautiful outrage, paired with "our Brook" allowed me to rest comfortably through the night.

***

Their quiet whispers woke me next. Brook's, then Nate's.

"Can I come sit by you?"

"I guess."

"You know who I go to when my heart feels hurt?" Silence. "I go to my little brother, because he always makes it better."

"Does your heart feel hurt now?"

"Less than it did when I was outside that door. Thanks for letting me in."

"She's going to wake up, right?" he asked.

"Come here."

"I'm going to apologize to Annette." His words were muffled. "I meant it, but I should've said it the right way. 'Words or fists, if you can't avoid a fight, then fight right.'"

"Dad." I could hear Brook's smile, though she spoke sadly. "But it's tough when you're the only one trying to do it the right way."

"Yeah."

"Would it be okay if I spent a little time with her, alone?"

When the door closed, I opened my eyes.

"You see how mature he is?" Brook said, smiling. She looked tired, vulnerable as she smoothed my hair. Had Annette been right to blame me? Was I making things worse for this already fractured family? "He's never had a tantrum in his life, you know." She seemed to realize I was too tired to respond, and continued. "Mom would yell, 'He's not a toy! Stop putting him in your pocket!' But I wanted to take him everywhere with me, ever since he was born.

"I used to tell Nate his mother loved him—she just couldn't express it. I don't know if she does, and I never will, because I'll never be brave enough to ask. Annette...can't handle or accept that her kid isn't perfect, and she doesn't want him around as a reminder. Not to her or anyone else. She actually taught Nate not to call her 'Mom' so she could pretend he was someone else's.

"When our dad died, he was still with Annette, but he left the house to my mom instead of her to make sure Annette wouldn't just sell the house and leave Nate. So she stays because she has nowhere nicer to go, and Mom stays—even though she has houses ten times as big—to keep an eye on her. Plus this way, Nate and I stay together.

"My mother...built her own business. You've seen her sometimes, in the news. There's a lot more pressure to being 'the heiress' than people think, but she doesn't let me forget how lucky I am. I guess it just didn't really hit me until recently..."

I wanted to tell her about Grandmother, proud and old and beautiful, disgusted by what she perceived as weakness in everyone around her. About Velde, who would never find what she was looking for, and Lefi, who clung to objects, and Esola, who drifted along, and Kindra, whose gentle light was too often ignored.

But all I could manage was, "I'm so tired."

"Then I'll be tired with you," she replied, leaning her head against mine, and I was reminded of us in the water, that night.

If she noticed that I cried, she was kind enough not to mention it.