“Sten,” Anna said softly.

  He slept on. The faint hum of her voice pressed against his dreams.

  “Go away,” he mumbled.

  “Wake up,” she said urgently. “You have to get out of here.”

  What?

  Sten’s eyes fluttered open. The room swam. He rubbed his face and focused.

  Anna stood by the fireplace. Blue coat dress. Hair loose and tangled.

  Impossible.

  He pushed himself up from the lounger. The remnants of the festivities littered the room, empty cups, sleeping bodies. He nudged Rowan with his foot.

  Rowan stirred, irritated, then froze.

  Anna was standing there.

  Covered in blood.

  “What happened?” Sten demanded. “How did you get in here?”

  He looked around the room, his heart pounding. “Wait.”

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  Rowan seized his arm and shook his head.

  “There’s no way,” Rowan whispered.

  Sten knew it instantly. There was no way for Anna to have reached the palace in this time. No way to pass the gates. No way at all.

  “Anna,” Sten said carefully. “Where did you come from?”

  She hesitated, as if arguing with herself. Then she grabbed his sleeve.

  “You have to leave this place.”

  Her grip tightened. “Please.”

  “Why?” Sten asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Rowan, both of you. You have to get out.”

  She was trembling now.

  “This isn’t your blood, is it?” Sten asked quietly, pulling at her coat, inspecting her wounds.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  Rowan stared at her. “You’re coming from the past,” he said. “What did you see?”

  Anna swallowed.

  “He killed her,” she said. “And he’ll kill you next.”

  Silence swallowed the room.

  “Who?” Sten demanded.

  The door creaked faintly somewhere in the palace.

  Anna looked at him. Blood welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks like tears.

  “Your uncle.”

  Rowan inhaled sharply.

  “Vargas?” Sten asked, gripping her face. “What did you see?”

  Anna tried to speak, but blood poured from her nose. She began coughing, dark splatter striking Sten’s chest.

  Her body sagged.

  Sten caught her as she collapsed.

  Together, he and Rowan carried her into his chambers. The palace slept on, heavy with the first night of the Ceremony of Flowers.

  Sten laid her down. Her lips parted, as if to say something more.

  She exhaled.

  And died.

  Again.

  Sten stepped back slowly. “How is this possible?”

  Rowan shook his head. “I'm not sure. This has never happened before.”

  “Where will she return?” Sten asked.

  “The same place, most likely,” Rowan said. “But… something's wrong. Maybe she has to return to the cabin to survive the crossing.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Sten turned back to Anna’s body. “Either way, I need to go back. Before she does. I need to know what she knows.”

  Rowan hesitated. “I suspect the Anna you'll meet won't be this Anna.”

  Sten frowned, then nodded. He understood.