“What?” Zachary asks even though he is certain he already knows what she means. “It is your own damned fault that you didn’t open that door when you were however old, no one else’s,” Mirabel tells him. “Not mine and not whoever painted over it, either. Yours. You decided not to open it. So don’t stand there and invent mythology that allows you to blame me for your problems. I have my own.” “We’re not here to find Dorian, we’re here to find Simon, aren’t we?” Zachary asks. “He’s the last thing lost in time.”
