“Wait,” she says. “Why are you here?” Her eyes scan me wildly and her balled-up fists feel like stones on my ribs. She’s panicking. She thinks I might be dead.

“I’m not dead,” I say. “I promise.”

Anna climbs down off the rock, cocking her head suspiciously. “Then how? Nothing’s here that isn’t dead.”

“There are two things, actually,” I say, squeezing her hand. “Me, and this other, annoying girl that we have to find.”

“What?” Anna smiles.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is we’re leaving.” Except I don’t really know how we do that. There isn’t a line tied around my waist for me to tug on and be pulled back. We need Jestine.

Anna’s eyes are bright, and her fingertips trace my shoulders, still waiting for me to disappear. “You shouldn’t have come,” she says, like a scolding, but she can’t quite make it stick.

“You told me to,” I say. “You said you couldn’t stay.”

She blinks at me. “Did I?” she asks. “It doesn’t seem so bad, right now.”

I almost laugh. Right now it doesn’t. When she’s free of burns, and cuts, and not strung through with butcher’s twine, it doesn’t seem so bad.

“You have to go back, Cassio,” Anna whispers. “He won’t let go of me.” Through her bright eyes I can see what this place has done to her. She seems smaller somehow. There’s happiness on her face to see me, but she doesn’t really believe that I can get her out.

“It’s not his choice,” I say.

“Always his choice,” she corrects. “Always his pleasure.”

I hold her tighter. Over six months she’s been here, but what does that mean? Time doesn’t exist. Even I’ve been here too long. It seems like I walked that maze with Jestine for an hour, and then an hour more without her. Not true. Nowhere near true.

“How did this happen?” I ask. “How did he beat you?”

She draws away and tugs at the strap of her white dress with one hand. The other stays firmly attached to me, and I don’t let go of her either.

“I fight and lose, again and again, over and over, until forever.” Her eyes lose focus, over my shoulder, and I wonder what she sees. If I looked in the same direction, I might not see the same thing. Her eyes sharpen. “Prometheus on the rock. Do you know that story? Every day he’s punished for giving mortals fire by being strapped to a rock and having his liver eaten out by an eagle. I always thought it was a poor punishment. That he’d just get used to the pain, and the eagle would have to think of some new torture. But you don’t. And he does.”

“I’m so sorry, Anna,” I say, but the words bounce off. She’s not complaining. In her mind there’s been no crime. She thinks that this is retribution. That this is justice.

She studies my face. “How long has it been? I don’t remember you right. The memory is from too far away, like I knew you when I was alive.” She smiles. “I think I’ve forgotten what the world is.”

“You’ll remember.”

She shakes her head. “He won’t let go of me.” The movement is strange. It doesn’t fit; it hangs on her lopsided and it makes me wonder just how much damage has been done.

I pull her gently to her feet. “We have to go. We have to find my friend, Jestine. We—” I cringe as sharp pain hits my gut. Then it’s gone and I can breathe again.

“Cas.” Anna’s staring at the front of my shirt. I don’t need to look down to know that the blood is starting to show. I’m not sure whether that means I’m not focusing hard enough on forgetting it, or that time is short. But I’d rather not take chances.

“What did you do?” she asks. She presses her hand against my stomach.

“Never mind. We just have to find Jestine, and then we can get out of here.”

Something taps my shoulder. When I turn, there’s Jestine, looking as pleased with herself as ever.

There are cuts and lacerations on most of her fingertips and knuckles. Blood streaks are smeared across her cheeks and forehead like war paint, probably from wiping her torn-up hands against her face.

“Where have you been?” I ask. “What happened?”

“I’ve been solving our problems,” she says, and digs her hand into her pocket. The move makes her grimace, but when she pulls her hand back out, she’s absolutely beaming. When she unfurls her fingers, I see rough chips of shining silver in her palm.