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He crumpled the paper in his fist. “Try. For my sake. Your whole life can’t be wrapped up in the endings of others.” He turned his back on her, and she went the opposite direction, assuming the false smile that he wanted to prove true.

Even though she’d tossed his words aside the moment he’d said them, the effect lasted. She caught the reflection of her pretended happiness in a window that she passed, looking every inch like a privileged girl enjoying a beautiful day. But she knew she had never been that, even before the scars on her temples had set her apart from others. Playacting was something she had perfected long before meeting Dr. Thornhollow, and at least the darkness that haunted her now was one she had the power to end.

She entered the doctor’s office to find Thornhollow in deep conversation with a bored-looking man who brightened up the moment she walked in. “Any luck, Uncle?” she asked.

“Not so much,” he said ruefully. “Doctor Maggill here was just saying how he’s about to close for lunch and doesn’t have a moment to help us.”

“Nonsense, nonsense,” Maggill said as he approached Grace. “I can certainly postpone something as pedestrian as lunch to help a lovely young creature such as yourself.” He beckoned for Grace to sit on a stool, but she shook her head.

“No, Doctor, I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your daily routine. We can return later, can’t we, Uncle?”

“Of course,” Thornhollow agreed, putting his hat back on and taking Grace by the arm. “Back in an hour, Doctor?”

“Lovely, and you can make it half an hour,” he said, smiling, showing too clearly that he’d already had lunch and some of it was still located in his teeth. “I hate to think of you suffering for one second longer than absolutely necessary.”

“That was certainly not our man,” Thornhollow declared, once they were back in the carriage. “Though I’d like to give him a sound drubbing anyway. Not interested in treating a girl he’s never seen until he likes the sight of her.” He shook his head, talking only to himself. “A disgrace to the Hippocratic oath.”

Grace rapped his knee with her knuckles as they slid to a halt once again. “Our next stop, Doctor.”

“I’m going to lose my faith in humanity before the day is over, Grace, mark my words,” he said as they descended to the street.

So it continued in office after office, until the dirt of the streets covered Grace’s boots and her plea of a headache was no longer a lie. They played their parts, each dissecting the man they spoke with the second they saw him and comparing notes as the carriage took them to their next destination. Not once did they find a doctor who was noticeably flustered by Grace, and Thornhollow’s patience stretched as thin as her smile.

“Dammit,” he bellowed, tossing the paper on the floor of the carriage as they headed toward home. “A whole day spent trying to prove our theory and all I have for it is twelve doses of medicine I don’t need.”

“I do,” Grace said, hands to her temples.

“I’m sorry for shouting,” he apologized. “I’ve had such a day in town it’s a lovely relief to return to the asylum.”

“It is,” she agreed, pulling pins free and letting her hair tumble loose, scars on display as the wet air from the lake filled her lungs. “It truly is.”

TWENTY-ONE

Grace’s letters were waiting on her nightstand when she went to bed. The pages had been soaked through by Nell’s would-be alligator attack, and Grace had been terrified that they would fall apart in her hands if she didn’t let them dry thoroughly. The pages fluttered in the night breeze as she reached for them, her heart leaping at the sight of her younger sister’s handwriting.

Fair Lily—

The breeze brought me your letter. I don’t know that I would’ve gone looking for it otherwise, it has been so long since we played. I am glad you came back.

Do you remember my sister, Grace? She has died. Mother and Father say that a sickness killed her on a boat when she went on a trip. I miss her. She would always play with me and tell me everything would be all right, though it looks like she was wrong.

Father tries to comfort me. He even let me sit on his lap the other day, although Mother said I’m much too big to be doing that sort of thing now. Mother put my hair up in curls to try to cheer me up, but when Father said I looked very pretty she got angry and pulled it all out again. It hurt and I had to cry, and Mother didn’t let me come down to dinner and I don’t know why.

I miss Grace and I miss you.

Write back—

Alice

Grace’s fingers shook as she refolded Alice’s letter, placed it under her pillow, and turned to Falsteed’s.

Dearest Grace—

From one asylum to another, greetings. Enclosed you will find a letter that Reed retrieved for you. I gave it a good sniff before entrusting it to him. Your sister has the smell of innocence about her still, and the whiff of purity that came from your presence may indeed have been due to your close proximity to her. But I choose to believe otherwise.

You say I am a good person who has done bad things. You are a good person who has had bad things done to her, which is a different situation altogether. Do not sell yourself so short in assuming that the darkness inside you cannot be overcome, or that your only path to redemption lies with the footsteps of Thornhollow. There is more to you than beauty. There is more to you than strength. There is more to you than intelligence. You are a whole person, and I would have you treat yourself as such.

Falsteed