Sera had climbed into their bed sometime after midnight, the way she did most nights now, and Luna had followed an hour later out of what Marina privately suspected was pure stubbornness, an unwillingness to be the twin left out of anything. By the time the grey light started at the window, all four of them were tangled together in a way that would have been impossible to explain to Halvard or anyone like him, Silvain's arm thrown across both girls, Marina's hand resting in Luna's dark hair, the specific chaos of a family that had been built out of a lie and had somehow, against every reasonable expectation, become...