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night,” Nan said softly, amazed at just how much he knew, that he could put a name to the song in her dreams.
    “So you do still retain that connection,” he said. “Ingrid will be glad to hear it. The wyrdsong guides you. It’ll help you know how fate is meant to go.”
    “I sensed that,” Nan said. “I tried to use it on Rory Valkenrath, when I was trying to convince him that he needed to release the dead. I thought somehow that if he heard it,
he would understand. And I think it was working, until Arabella shot him.”
    How strange it was to hear she had such responsibility, and Sebastian was so much more forthcoming than Arabella.
    “So…you’re the leader of all this?” Freddy asked. “You still haven’t explained how that happened.”
    “My father oversaw a small duchy in Irminau,” said Sebastian with a shrug. “So I’m fairly well-versed in everything from military operations to taxes.”
    “How many men do you have?” Nan asked. “What’s the plan?”
    “About five hundred, all told,” Sebastian said. “This is the central base. We occupy two other buildings as well—Bauer Hall and Reuenthal House.”
    “It’ll take more than five hundred men to unify Urobrun and Irminau,” Freddy said.
    Sebastian looked unfazed, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, the UWP is much larger than us, for now.”
    “The UWP?” Freddy asked.
    “The United Workers Party,” Nan said. “The Valkenraths didn’t let you read the paper, then?”
    “Afraid not.” Freddy crossed his arms.
    “The UWP are the dominant revolutionary group in the city,” Sebastian said. “We’ll support them to keep the city from falling to Irminau.” He pushed back his sleeve
to check a wristwatch. “I’d rather not allow King Otto and his magic users to gain a foothold here.”
    A young man walked halfway down the stairs and peered in. “Sir, Karetzky is here with a report.”
    “Ah, a messenger.” Sebastian lifted a hand. “I’ll be there soon. Tell him to wait in my office.” He turned back to Nan. “Make yourselves at home.
There’s a spread of food upstairs, if you’re hungry.”
    She could barely recall the last time she’d eaten. Food seemed an alien concept.
    “What about Thea?” Freddy asked. “How long does healing take?”
    “You’ll be the first to know when Ingrid is done,” Sebastian said. “But don’t worry. She’s a miracle worker with wounds.”

T hea tried to scream. Her brain and voice fought to connect, and a hoarse sound tore from her throat. Ingrid’s eyes met hers.
    Her eyes were a clear gray that bored into Thea’s soul.
Trust
. She kept singing, her voice more beautiful than any song of earth. The sound seemed to match Thea’s
thoughts—shape her thoughts, even. Pain fell away.
    She had seen her father die with the sunrise. She had held his hand and watched him go. She had seen a man rotting in the depths of the underground, workers shot on the street, her mother left
alone with sorrow written on her face. So many terrible things she wanted to wipe from her mind, so many burdens she wondered how she could bear. Ingrid’s song, Ingrid’s
eyes…they offered release.
    Forget these pains. Don’t think. Let the world’s song beat with your own heart, and nothing you have seen on earth will matter.
    All the dark memories that pulsed in Thea’s heart grew buoyant. If she just opened her hand, they would fly free, and she would be free of them.
    Father—Mother—
    Her jaw trembled with uncertainty. The motion of the saw reverberated up her arm as her bone split clean in two. The split was like the calm after the storm—the grinding gone silent, her
arm set free of ugly memories. Ingrid’s hand gripped her arm just above her wrist, and Thea felt her blood held back by Ingrid’s will. Then the wound began to seal, skin climbing over
blood and bone. Everything she saw and felt seemed far away, like reading a horror novel on a sunny day. It wasn’t real.
    Her injured