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I was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of Seris with Realmheart active, the violet runes it conjured burning beneath my eyes as I carefully watched her focus mana into and through the rotting head of Sovereign Orlaeth. “I’m taking it seriously because I think it might just work.”

Caera’s answering frown was contemplative as it turned from me to Seris. I followed her gaze.

Seris’s alabaster skin was sickly gray and covered in a sheen of perspiration. Even since our arrival, she seemed to have shrunk into herself.

I needed to understand exactly what was happening between her, the machinery, and the cadre of other mages acting as a living battery.

At first, it seemed impossible that she had been able to keep this up for two weeks without rest. Her mana signature was incredibly weak, her core nearly empty. Her feat would not have been possible at all except for the fact that, in her desperation, she had developed her own rudimentary version of mana rotation that allowed her to absorb and purify mana from the atmosphere while also channeling it into the horn.

I followed the mana as it was drawn in through her veins to her core, where there was a constant swirl of purification before black-tinged mana was released to trail down her arm and into the gory artifact. From there, it seemed to condense rapidly—some inborn trait of the Vritra’s horn that I didn’t understand—before being drawn out again by the bright blue liquid.

The mana took on a darker hue after being released by the horn. Metallic wiring then guided it to several large crystals. These were being constantly imbued by a handful of mages each. Thanks to Realmheart’s ability to see the individual mana particles, I was able to follow along as chunks of stored mana were pulled out of the mana crystals and into artifacts that reminded me of old-school Earth satellite dishes.

These dishes, which were covered in a complex diagram of runes, condensed and projected the mana in such a way that it distorted the portals, creating something like a feedback loop in which the portals still existed, but anyone coming through them wouldn’t be able to leave before being drawn back through the portal and deposited on the other side.

As Cylrit explained it, the blue liquid was an alchemy of pulverized mana crystals suspended in a biologically-originated compound crafted mostly of mana beast cores and chemicals proven particularly adept at transmitting mana. In effect, Seris had invented a mana battery. In this case, however, the artifact was specifically designed to utilize Orlaeth’s mana, and their attempts to pivot to alternative sources had proved unsuccessful.

Caera’s idea would only be possible because of my presence.

After bursting out in a pained, manic laugh, Caera had grown nervous, clearly second-guessing herself. “Go on,” I’d encouraged her, curious. My own mind was already whirling with ideas as I struggled to see how to help Seris, and her input was welcome.

After clearing her throat and waving away the frustrated healer who was tending to her wound—which looked much worse than I had originally thought—she had said simply, “I was just thinking of your…unique magic, and how you may be the only person who could possibly even do something like this, but…could we somehow power this device using the abundant aether in the relictombs?”

Her simple suggestion had firmly planted the attention of all the many mages in the plaza back on me. Since the moment I’d appeared inside the Relictombs’ second level, I’d been on the receiving end of countless stares. Some gazed at me with starry-eyed wonder, while others glowered distrustfully, but everyone turned away when I met their eyes.

I had become something of a mythical figure in Alacrya since the Victoriad, it seemed.

At least it meant that, when I took over and started giving orders to the mages operating the disruption artifact, everyone listened.

I’d already been watching Seris’s process for quite some time. She had left it to her people to answer my many questions as she instead focused on the continued transmittal of mana.

My sister was asleep on a cot straight ahead of me, Boo passed out beside her. Both had pushed themselves to the extreme in escaping the last zone. I was thankful that Ellie had continued to push herself while I’d been gone for nearly two months, as Gideon and Emily’s testing had helped her discover an additional connection between Boo and herself. Her ability to imbue mana was limited by her own light-yellow core, but by drawing on Boo’s inherent mana, she could push far beyond her own limits.

As much as he burned out quickly, Chul recuperated just as fast. His many wounds were already scabbed over despite him not allowing the Alacryan healers to treat him. Now he paced around the outer perimeter of the plaza, drawing nervous looks from the ascenders.

Sylvie and Regis stayed near me. They kept their thoughts quiet and unobtrusive, but our connection was never entirely severed. Sylvie’s mind was buzzing with the aftermath of her experience in the Relictombs, but we hadn’t had a moment to talk about it. Regis, on the other hand, was laser-focused on my task, attentive to each detail. Even though I didn’t experience his thoughts directly, I could still feel the gears of his mind turning like the shadow of my own.

“There are three main obstacles to this sort of conversion,” I said softly so that only the handful of people directly around me could hear. “The battery housing here was designed from the ground up to make use of this Vritra’s mana as a source. Because of how the basilisk’s physiology utilizes mana, the withdrawal and disbursement of that mana can’t be effective with any other source that I know of. A mana crystal just can’t be condensed enough to handle the draw.”

One of Seris’s Imbuers shrugged uncertainly. “Yes, this has been the primary roadblock we’ve experienced. Seris’s active focus has been the only alternative to work so far, but that is obviously unsustainable.”

“That also means that this design is basically useless for the storage or transmission of aether,” I continued. “The second problem is the projection artifacts. The runes are specifically designed to work with mana, and not only that, but decay-attribute mana natively associated with the basilisk race.”

“We designed additional runework,” Cylrit replied. He was standing behind and beside Seris, looming over the tank where she held the Vritra’s horn, his arms crossed. “But without being able to channel enough pure mana, the alternative projection artifacts were useless. And it is exceedingly dangerous to switch between the designs, as taking down more than one or two of the artifacts weakens the disruption.”

I nodded, unsurprised. “But the biggest problem is that there is no way to collect ambient aether into the machine, even if we are able to correct the other two problems. I don’t even know if something like that is possible. Even the Relictombs themselves, which exist in a place entirely made of aether, degrade and collapse with time. The very nature of aether is actually counter to what we’re trying to do.”

Sylvie looked up, her gaze sharpening. “The armor draws in aether.”

I shook my head. “But to do anything with that aether, it still needs the person inside it”

‘Listen, we’re not trying to revolutionize the way we power all artifacts across the world, right? We just need to get the little rebel queen here unplugged and buy these people some time. So use me. I can draw in aether and focus it through the rest of this shit if you can make it all work.’

I hesitated. It was true that aetheric particles were naturally drawn to Regis; that fact was instrumental in my creation of the aether core to begin with.

We’d basically be replacing Seris with you. It would be a temporary bandage at best…

‘It seems worth a try.’ Sylvie rested her hand on Regis’s mane. ‘It will buy us all time at the very least.’

I examined my bond carefully. Lines of worry creased her brow and the corners of her lips, and there was a deep-set fatigue in her eyes, but her thoughts were clear-headed.

Seris shifted slightly, and the disruption of the mana wobbled. Her eyes moved beneath the closed lids.

I sighed. We had no time for a lengthy exploration of what was possible. If we were going to do anything to help Seris and prevent Agrona’s forces from piercing this level of the Relictombs, it needed to happen immediately.

“Tell me again about the fluid battery,” I said, and one of the Imbuers launched into a repeat of Cylrit’s earlier explanation.

As they spoke, I watched the particles moving within the horn and the bright liquid. I examined the housing and wiring again, as well as the relationship between the severed Vritra head and Seris’s mana. But I also paid careful attention to how the aether moved around this artifact as well. Because such a condensed amount of mana was suspended within the artifact, very little atmospheric aether existed inside of it.

With a thought from me, Regis became immaterial and drifted through the glass and into the rotting head within, casting dim purple light from the empty sockets.

‘I kind of like how this empty skull doesn\'t have seven different counter scenarios and plans intersecting across his thoughts at any given moment. You know, like a certain someone. I dare say it\'s almost peaceful,’ Regis japed.

The effect was immediate. More aether was drawn into the battery, flowing into the space not taken up by mana.

Releasing aether from my core, I encouraged it toward the device, willing it to displace the mana if necessary. The mana compressed further, allowing more room for the aether, which was then in turn drawn into the head by Regis’s presence. The horn didn’t absorb or condense the aether like it did Seris’s mana, but I hadn’t expected it to. Basilisks had no natural affinity for aether.

“Bring one of the spare projection artifacts and explain the runes to me.”

One of the Imbuers hurried to comply, soon returning with the round blue-tinted metal dish. He launched into a precise lecture about the function of the runes and how these differed from the ones currently in use. I was no expert in this matter, but I was the only one present with any insight into aether. Even as I thought this, though, I realized it might not be true.

“Does anyone here have knowledge of the bestowals?”

They exchanged looks, then Cylrit said, “There were two officiants on this level at the time it was taken. They are loyal to Agrona, so they were locked away within the High Hall with anyone else who fought against us.”

“The bestowment ceremony requires activation of aether to work. The artifacts those officiants use are what make that possible. Sylvie, go with them and interrogate those men. Use the artifacts—the staff and the bracelet, primarily—to see if you can come up with a rune sequence that will allow these projection devices to utilize aether instead of mana.”

“Of course,” Sylvie said with a nod, her wheat-blonde hair spilling down around the jet-black scales of the relic armor.

It made me feel more comfortable, somehow, to know that she was still being protected by it.

Sensing my thoughts, she raised a brow and gave me a wry smile, then hurried after the Imbuers.

I returned my focus to the battery itself. The mechanism was designed to store and release mana with no consideration to aether. The high density of mana within Orlaeth’s horn allowed the battery to create a draw that naturally pulled the mana along the connected wiring to the rest of the devices.

The real question was how—or even if—it was possible to adjust this battery so that it stored and transmitted aether instead of mana.

With Regis attracting aether, it already filled all the space between the mana particles, giving the bright blue liquid a lavender hue. Focusing on this loosely stored aether, I pushed it toward the wires and was surprised when some small number of particles, caught between mana particles, was pulled along into the rest of the machine. It dissipated upon reaching the mana crystal, but that proved the aether could be transmitted similar to mana.

‘Poop crystals,’ Regis thought suddenly, bringing my thought process to a grinding halt.

What?

‘The giant millipede,’ Regis said seriously. ‘The processed aether—poop crystals—some of them were about the same dimensions as these mana crystals. Maybe we can swap them out.’

I looked at Seris, still sitting silently right in front of me, her mana flowing endlessly into the Vritra horn in her grasp. “Can you hold on for a bit longer?”

Her head tilted slightly to the side, letting a lock of pearl-colored hair fall across her closed eyes. I wasn’t sure if she’d heard me, but then she nodded. “I can hear your mind whirling. Go, do what you need to do. I will be fine.”

I hesitated, certain that no reasonable person would describe her current condition as “fine,” but I knew what needed to be done, and that meant keeping her in place just a little while longer.

“Chul, come on,” I said, hopping to my feet and heading out of the plaza.

Caera started to stand, but I waved her down. “Rest,” I urged. “We won’t be gone long.”

***

“We’ll start here—the end of the chain and farthest from the source of power—and work backwards,” the head Imbuer, a mage of the Ainsworth highblood, said for what was probably the hundredth time as he instructed the other Imbuers.

Sylvie had returned from the High Hall shortly after Chul, Regis, and I got back from the giant millipede zone. Sylvie and the Imbuers, along with some less-than-eager assistance from the bestowal officiants and their artifacts, were able to mock up a combination of runes that proved capable of projecting aether with a similar effect as the current mana disruption.

I watched as the team quickly dismantled the device to replace the mana crystal and projection artifact. The moment the new equipment was in place, Regis began pushing aether out of the battery. It traveled along the wires, dissipating where it reached the other mana crystals but being absorbed into the newly placed aether crystal.

Nothing happened.

The Imbuers’ faces fell. Cylrit’s jaw clenched. Caera was wringing her hands, her face pale as she looked on nervously.

It’s about intention, I thought to Regis. Remember, the aether listens to you, responds to your intent. You can’t just push it, you have to guide it.

I felt Regis’s focus sharpen, extending to the aether he had sent into the crystal.

A few particles displaced from the crystal, running into the projection artifact. Then a few more. Slowly but surely, a steady trickle, then a stream of aether was flowing, until suddenly the device activated.

A wave of amethyst light distorted the air between the artifact and the portals.

It was working.

A collective held breath was released as the Imbuers cheered and clapped each other on the back. Cylrit gave me a firm nod, suddenly looking ten years younger.

Seris seemed oblivious, focused on the act of empowering all the other pieces of the disruption array.

“Well come on!” the Ainsworth Imbuer snapped. “No time to waste, let’s get the rest of these converted over.”

One by one, they changed out the original pieces of their design with the new, aether-aligned parts. With each addition, I helped Regis by forcing more of the mana out of the battery and infusing it with my own aether instead, allowing him to focus on just maintaining the flow.

More and more people arrived in the plaza as we worked. I recognized a couple of faces, such as Sulla of Named Blood Drusus, High Mage of the Cargidan Ascenders Hall and, surprising me, Kayden of Highblood Aphelion, the wounded professor I had taught alongside at Central Academy. Kayden gave me a jaunty wave from the outskirts of the plaza, where he lingered with feigned disinterest. Many others were clearly ranking Highbloods or ascenders as well.

It was a technically arduous process, and time ticked by slowly as the Imbuers labored. All together, it took hours before the last projection artifact was finally in place, the last crystal was changed, and all the mana was pushed out of the battery, leaving room for a significant deposit of aether.

Although I’d done little throughout, keeping Realmheart active for so long was taxing. It did not require a significant amount of aether to do so, but it was similar to keeping a muscle flexed for hours on end, and a dull headache was burning at the corners of my eyes.

It was with a feeling of relief that I released the godrune, feeling the energy burning up from under my skin in the shape of runes dissipating. At the same time, the visible motes of mana painting the zone in reds, yellows, greens, and blues faded away to nothing.

But something was different.

I rubbed at my sternum, feeling a tension there that I couldn’t immediately identify. Worried that I’d strained myself, I looked around at everyone else.

Cylrit’s fist was wrapped firmly around Seris’s forearm, and he eased her hand out of the battery tank, allowing the Imbuers to seal it back up. At first, Seris’s mana kept flowing in an uninterrupted loop, spilling out into the atmosphere with no effect. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up, confused, into Cylrit’s face.

“It’s all right. You’ve held long enough. Let go.”

The flow of mana abated, and Seris stared at her hand, which she seemed to be struggling to unclench.

Her mana, I realized with a start. Despite no longer channeling Realmheart, I could still sense her mana.

My insight into the godrune, which represented the relationship between aether and mana, had advanced without my even realizing it. I bit back a grin and closed my eyes, just feeling the mana signatures of everyone around me.

“Did it work?” Seris asked, snapping me back into the moment.

No one could answer yet. Together, we waited with breathless uncertainty. Even to the naked eye, the ripples in the air and portal surfaces were clear beneath a dim purple glow, but it wasn’t until, a couple minutes later, when an Alacryan soldier appeared briefly in one of the portals before vanishing again, that we all truly relaxed.

“It worked,” I confirmed.

A cheer went up, and the Imbuers and attendant mages collapsed into back-patting and embraces all around us.

How does it feel in there?

‘I assume you’re not talking about this rotting skull,’ Regis shot back, sounding in good humor. ‘Seriously, though, I’ve always wanted to be the little engine that could.’

Sylvie snorted, her brows raised nearly into her hairline. ‘You find the strangest details in Arthur’s old Earth memories.’

‘Hey, “Strange Details” is going to be the name of my memoir.’ Regis’s laughter rang in my head as I turned away with a groan.

“I need to take Scythe Seris somewhere she can rest,” Cyrlit said, her arm laced through his for support. “We will convene when—”

“No,” Seris said firmly. He started to object, but she cut him off again. “I will recover as we walk. Come, Arthur. Gather your companions.” She looked around, caught sight of Sulla, and gestured for him to approach. Unbidden, a couple of other men came with him. “Sulla, Harlow, send men to collect the Highlords, Matrons, and other ranking blood members. Have them gather at the Dread Craven within the hour.”

Chul helped Ellie and Caera to stand and mount Boo, and they fell in behind me while Sylvie stayed at my side. A number of guards broke off from those stationed around the plaza and marched to either side of our party, while several others followed us out of the plaza as well. As we approached the boulevard that ran lengthwise across the zone, I realized that a large number of people were being held back by more guards.

I stopped walking, my body going rigid.

“What the hell are they doing here?” I asked, feeling my cheeks flush with anger.

“Professor!” Mayla jumped up and down, waving her arms to catch my attention. “Hey, Professor Grey!”

Next to Mayla, Seth of Highblood Milview rubbed his neck and smiled awkwardly, looking increasingly embarrassed.

Seris turned stiffly to acknowledge me. “Forgive me, Arthur. They were intended to be a…research project, of sorts.”

My fists clenched and unclenched at my sides. “You endangered these kids’ lives for a—” I cut myself off, full understanding dawning. “You wanted to know why their runes were so strong.”

Seris only nodded before turning away, and Cylrit continued walking.

I broke ranks and hurried over to where a couple of ascenders were holding back the pair of teenagers. Mayla was grinning wildly, but Seth looked nervous.

“Professor Grey, you’re back!” Mayla gushed, looking like she wanted to rush up and hug me. “Everyone has been talking about you, ever since you left. Some of the other students thought you’d disappeared forever, but Loreni was so sure you’d be back, and so was S-Scythe Seris…Vritra…” Mayla trailed off, her attention sliding to where Seris had yet again stopped and was now watching my conversation.

“Seth, Mayla, it’s good to see you both,” I said, giving them a small smile that I knew lacked any true warmth. “I can’t speak now, but when I have a moment, perhaps you two can help me understand—”

“Maybe you can help us understand something, Professor,” Seth said suddenly, cutting over me. His face was pale, and he was staring past me, not meeting my eye. “Who are you? Why…why did you do this to us? Get us into this? I…” He shook his head and trailed off, looking like he might be sick.

I hesitated to answer. I didn’t want to leave them feeling like everything that had happened to them was without reason, but I didn’t have time to tell them the truth in the right way. “I’ll explain what I can later. Where are you staying?”

Glancing between me and Seth, Mayla gave me directions to the mansion of the Highblood that had taken them in. “See you soon?” she asked, the words almost pleading.

“As soon as I can.”

I returned to the others under Seris’s curious gaze, but she said nothing, and we began marching along again. The ascenders moved the crowd out of our way, and our own guards kept everyone well back.

I wasn’t heedless of the shouts that followed us, some pleading, others resentful and accusatory, but I was too on edge to give any of it much thought. Our victory with the portal disruptor already seemed like a distant memory as the weight of the problems still facing these people settled heavily across my shoulders.

Cylrit and Seris led us to a three-story building that overlooked a small street several blocks from the High Hall, which loomed in the distance. I was surprised both by the location and construction of the building. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but this wasn’t it.

A sign depicting a split face, one half bright white and twisted into a cartoonish grimace of terror, the other pitch black and screaming a battle cry, marked the building as the Dread Craven. Constructed mostly of dark stone and wood, it reminded me of many inns I’d seen throughout both Alacrya and Dicathen.

Four mages guarded the door, which they opened as we approached. By the lack of surprise on their faces, word had already reached them about Seris’s arrival.

“Not quite how I imagined you living,” Caera said under her breath, having dismounted from Boo and limped in after me and Sylvie.

Seris turned, her face slack like someone just woken from a deep sleep. “No, I suppose not. The previous owner attempted to fight his way out on the first day after we arrived, leading a number of his blood and employees to their unfortunate demise. Since this building was then vacant, I decided it would be a suitable base of operations.”

Cylrit cracked a smile. “Besides, she enjoys dragging the highbloods all the way across the zone into the low part of town.”

“Hush,” Seris answered, waving her hand dismissively at her retainer. “And, perhaps, fetch me a drink?”

Cylrit nodded and headed toward the bar running half the length of the back wall.

We were standing in a wide open tavern room, standard except that all the rectangular tables had been pushed together in the center. It was unusually clean for an inn or bar, and the walls were barren, all their decorations having been taken down at some point. The lower windows had all been barricaded over by an earth-attribute mage, and the walls reinforced in places to provide a more defensible base.

A door behind the bar led to some back room, and a set of stairs dominated the left side of the open tavern. A couple of people—members of Seris’s staff, I assumed—peaked down the stairs briefly, their faces alight with a pleasant surprise, but they vanished just as quickly when Seris shot them a meaningful glance.

Serris’s movements were slow and calculated as she moved to a plush chair at the end of the pushed-together tables and eased into it with a groan. She waved for the rest of us to join her.

At the door, Ellie scratched Boo between his eyes and told him to wait outside.

I sat on Seris’s left, while Caera took the chair to her right. Nervousness rolled off Ellie in waves as she sat stiffly next to me. Sylvie, on her other side, squeezed her forearm gently. Chul stood, leaning against an upright post with his arms crossed.

Cylrit appeared from behind the bar and set a plain glass full of golden liquid in front of her. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go rest for a few hours—or days—before we—”

He quieted at a look from Seris. They said nothing more to each other, but Cylrit stayed beside her, one hand on the back of her chair, his expression hard enough to crack the inn’s stone foundations.

Seris took a small drink, let out a deep, shaky breath, and set the glass back on the table.

“So, here I am,” I said, deciding to speak first to break the tension. “You took a big risk, both in sending Caera to Dicathen and with this gambit in the Relictombs. I might not have come.”

An nearly imperceptible frown line creased the smooth skin between her brows. “I’ll thank you, of all people, not to lecture me on taking risks, Arthur Leywin.”

I raised my hands off the table in a gesture of warding. “Point taken. But really, Seris, what is all this about? Why did you send for me?”

“A moment,” she said, sagging under the weight of her fatigue. “The others will be here soon, and I’ve only the strength to have this conversation once.” She took another small sip of her drink, her attention lingering on my sister. “Eleanor, yes? Uncommon talent and bravery runs in your blood, I see.”

Ellie flushed and stared at her hands, which were clasped together on top of the table in front of her. “I don’t know about that, uh, Scythe Seris—”

“Please, call me Seris. My time as a Scythe and general of Alacrya is past, I think.” She gave me a rueful smile. “And this must be…Lady Sylvie Indrath. Cadell thought you’d succumbed to your wounds in Dicathen after your battle. ‘Like mother, like daughter,’ he’d said. A cold one, that Cadell. Colder now, of course.”

Sylvie raised her chin, her face framed by the two sets of horns. The gold of her eyes was molten even in the bright light of the inn’s interior. “You seem to be quite well informed, Lady Seris.”

Seris’s face darkened, her focus momentarily far away. “That has always been my strength, of course.” Her gaze lingered on Sylvie for a moment before drifting to Chul. “And who is this hulking figure behind you? To look at him, I would almost think…” Her eyes narrowed, and she inspected him more closely. “Of asuran lineage? Phoenix, even?”

Chul’s jaw hardened. “Did you have a great deal of experience with the member’s of my race locked in your master’s dungeons? How much of a hand did you have in their questioning and torture? Perhaps you were even there when my mother, the great Lady Dawn of the Ascepius clan, was butchered in her cell?”

Suppressing a groan, I leaned in. Although Chul’s standoffishness was justified, it didn’t serve us in the moment. “We’re all friends here, remember?”

Seris wasn’t put off by his attitude, however. In fact, she gave him a sad smile and some of the tension bled out of her. “Of course, I understand now. Forgive me. I was aware of your mother, even saw her briefly once or twice, but I never met her properly. Your people—the hidden followers of the Lost Prince—are a bit of a curiosity in Taegrin Caelum, almost mythical really.”

Her attention returned to me. “So, you really have been busy these last couple months, haven’t you?” Turning only her head, she met Caera’s eyes. “And what of you, then, hm? Off galavanting with Arthur on his adventures, heedless of—” She cut off suddenly as she really looked at Caera. “No, I can see that’s not the case.”

Caera chewed the inside of her cheek for a couple long seconds before providing a brief explanation of her imprisonment, first at the gentle hands of the Dicathians, and then much less comfortable among the dragons.

“So, war with the dragons really has come,” Seris mused under her breath, staring down into the alcohol as if it were a crystal ball and she was trying to divine the meaning of these events.

Her reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she forced a welcoming smile onto her tired face. “Well, it would appear they have started to arrive. Brace yourselves.”

The door opened and two familiar figures filed in: Corbett and Lenora Denoir.

Lady Lenora froze, staring at the horns atop Caera’s head, but only for a second. She quickly broke with decorum and hurried to Caera. Caught off guard, Caera didn’t even stand as Lenora leaned down over her, brushing a hand down her cheek and glancing from one bandaged wound to the next, looking increasingly pained.

“Oh Caera, what’s happened to you?” she breathed. Her eyes jumped to the horns, then back to Caera’s bandage, and it wasn’t entirely sure which she was referencing.

I could sense Caera’s discomfort as she gazed up at her adoptive mother, jaw slack. “I’m fine,” she said belatedly.

Corbett passed the two women, sparing Caera only the briefest glance and instead approaching Seris. He bowed deeply, his eyes on the floor. She acknowledged him by name, and he stood and turned back to Caera. “Lauden said you were gravely wounded. I am…glad to see his estimation of your poor health was exaggerated.”

Caera hesitated, then muttered only, “Thanks.”

Unlike his wife, Corbett was staring unabashedly at the horns plainly visible on Caera’s head. “Scythe Seris was kind enough to inform us of your…situation as well. And a good thing, too. I can’t pretend not to be shocked to see it, even though—”

The door opened again, revealing a man with well trimmed blond hair and a bushy goatee.

Corbett cleared his throat. Lenora took the seat next to Caera, and he sat beside her.

“Highlord Frost,” Seris welcomed the man. “Please, take a seat.”

The man’s severe gray eyes lingered on me for several seconds before he entered the tavern. “So, the famed Ascender Grey has returned. Hopefully this means I haven’t doomed my blood to a slow death by starvation under this faux-sky after all?”

Cylrit softly cleared his throat. When he spoke, his words were equally soft, but the sharp edge in them glinted like a razor. “Have a seat, Uriel.”

Highlord Frost hesitated only a second before taking the seat at the end of the table opposite Seris.

Next in was a younger man, dark-haired and barrel-chested, that it took me a few moments to recognize. He stood in the doorway and stared at me, his eyes growing misty.

“Lord Umburter,” Seris announced.

Suddenly he was moving quickly around the table toward me. Ellie tensed, and I gathered aether into my fist, prepared to defend myself or her if necessary.

But he jerked to a stop several feet away from us, then went to a knee, tears dripping from his downturned eyes. “Lance Arthur Leywin, th-thank you.”

I suddenly remembered him. He’d been one of the highbloods given authority over Xyrus. This man, along with most of the others, had been happy to let Augustine do all their talking—and threatening—for them.

Before I could say anything, he kept talking. “Even though you had every reason to kill me, you didn’t. And yet, here in Alacrya, my brother was slaughtered by one of our own retainers without hesitation. Th-that was everything I needed to understand about this war.” Swallowing heavily, he stood and took a seat halfway between Ellie and Uriel.

I watched the young man for several long moments, but he kept his eyes, now dry again, firmly forward. Then another individual entered, and she gave me pause.

It was the short horns sprouting from her forehead that caught me most clearly by surprise. Shiny blue-black hair was pulled into a tight tail over the horns, dark against her pale skin. Her wine-colored eyes settled immediately on Caera, and she let out a relieved breath. Seris announced her as “Matron Tremblay,” and she took a seat next to Corbett after spending several very long seconds ogling Caera’s horns.

Over the next several minutes, various highbloods, matrons, and high-ranking ascenders arrived in a steady stream to fill up our table. A few, like Sulla, stood to make room for those of a higher station than themselves. Some of the names I knew, but most meant nothing to me.

The last to enter was another surprise, as I once again saw Kayden of Highblood Aphelion limp through the door after it had closed.

Seris regarded the man with mild surprise. “Ah, Lord Aphelion. Welcome.”

Kayden waved with his signature brand of carelessness and headed straight for the bar, away from the tension building up from those around us.

The shrewd and perceptive gazes of the highbloods were glued to Seris and me, their anticipation palpable as they waited for us to speak.

Seris met my eye. I gave her a small nod. She cleared her throat. “Now that everyone is present, let us begin.”