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I scoffed. “Well, now Iknowthis is some kind of trick.”

“Fine. In return, I’ll sleep a little better knowing that whatever we’re all meant to do in the coming weeks and months, you’ll be better prepared for it. Your sisters can uproot trees and slay monsters. I can teach you how to use your body to defend yourself and those you love. You won’t be a master warrior by any means, if those punches you just tried are any indication, but you’ll be stronger. And therefore so will we.”

With great effort, I ignored the smug insult and said, with as much dignity as I could muster, “You make fair points. I’ll consider your offer.”

He looked at me for another moment, his face illuminated by the growing eastern light. “Good. In the meantime, we should all plan a meeting, a conference of sorts—our families and a few others we trust. Grudges aside, strategy only. The queen wants us to be her eyes, ears, and hands? Then we will. And if the idea of working together offends your honor, as it does mine? Think of the queen, of your sister at the Mist, and swallow your pride, as I will. This is about more than our families and the terrible things we’ve done to each other, and you know it.”

He turned away, made as if to leave, and then stopped and looked back at me over his shoulder. His bearded profile was brutally handsome; he was no beauty, but the morning sunlight softened him, painting his fierce brow gold.

“And I am sorry, Farrin,” he added, his voice gruff, suddenly weighed down. “I’m sorry for it all, and I wish I could undo it. I wish it more than anything.”

He stood there, fists clenched, as if struggling with whether or notto say more. Then he straightened and said sharply, “You’ll hear from me within the week. Don’t ignore me this time.”

Then he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving me stunned and overwhelmed, utterly trounced. Absently, I touched my lips, where his fingers had been. I shook myself and hurried up to my rooms.

Chapter 6

When we left the capital two days later, Father and I sat alone in our coach, our staff in another, and Gemma rode her gray mare, Zephyr. She refused to sit with our father in a contained space; I envied her ability to so utterly disdain him.

I glanced out the window as we crossed the Godsmouth, the longest river on the continent. Gemma made a splendid picture trotting along the bridge in her sky-blue riding clothes: hose and gleaming boots underneath a ruffled skirt, a smart jacket with ruffled collar, all her curls pinned up beneath a feathered hat. She chatted jovially with Lilianne, her lady’s maid, who insisted on riding her own horse just as her lady did, instead of enjoying the comfort of the servants’ coach.

Any citizen who caught sight of our caravan would know us at once as the Ashbournes. And if they saw Gemma—riding happily out in the open air, gorgeous and carefree, talking with anyone and everyone—they would be assured that whatever rumors were flying about were just that. The queen ill? The Citadel under attack? Whatever had happened, it couldn’t have beenthatserious. Otherwise the Ashbournes would have hurried home using swifter magical means,and Lady Gemma would certainly not have been out in the open air for all the world to see.

I sat back in my seat and looked across the cabin at Father, who was pretending to read a book. He hadn’t turned the page in a half hour.

“So,” I began, trying to sound angry and brave, pressing my sweaty palms against the seat cushion, “will you apologize to me now? Will you explain yourself? Or will we pretend that none of this ever happened?”

He surprised me then. He slammed the book closed. “Damn it, Farrin,” he muttered, and looked up at me, imploring. “Of course I’m sorry. What do you think it felt like to see you dying on the floor?”

He was bursting; he wanted absolution. And yet I’d been the one to begin this conversation.I’dbeen the victim of his scheming. “I don’t know,” I replied. “Whatdidit feel like?”

“It felt like the night of the fire all over again. It felt like searching the grounds while Ivyhill burned, and not finding you, and not finding you.”

I kept my voice cool. “And yet this time, the threat was of your own rash, stupid design. Or did you set the fire yourself too?”

“OfcourseI didn’t. Destroy my own home? How could you even suggest—”

“How can you be surprised that I would suggest it?” I sat board straight, fists clenched on my thighs. “You deceived everyone—the queen, the Basks, Gemma, me—and turned what was meant to be an occasion of hope into one of disaster.”

“That sinkhole the queen has hidden from us all would have widened just the same that day, even if I’d been the very picture of diplomacy,” he said sullenly.

A memory rose of Yvaine, frantically sobbing, throwing herself at her own magic while the beguilers worked desperately to hold it fast.

Yvaine had not divulged that to my father or to the Basks duringtheir long meetings. She had told them about the sinkhole, the efforts to contain it; she had apologized for concealing the truth for so long. She had wanted to mend the breach on her own, she’d told them. In light of the situation at the Middlemist, she had not wanted to burden anyone else with this mystery.

But the madness that had seized her, the things she had shouted—If they come here, they’ll die! Make them go to sleep!—that, my father still did not know. And never would, I hoped.

“You’re deliberately misunderstanding me,” I said, struggling for patience. “You’re being a child. Worse than a child, because you have the capacity to fully grasp the dynamics of this situation and what an extraordinary ass you’re proving yourself to be.”

Father leaned forward, bringing his tired face and bloodshot eyes into the sunlight. “What I have done and what I will continue to do,” he said quietly, “I do for the protection of my family.”

“Father, the war isover.”

He gave me a tired, grim smile. “This war will never be over.”

“You’re evil,” I said, fighting not to cry. I couldn’t contain it any longer; the fear and anger and, worst of all, the wrenchingdisappointmentthat had been burning in me since the night of the ball was a hot river inside me, flooding its banks.

“You’re evil, and you’re a fool. This war was never real to begin with. It was the machination of a monster using a string of enslaved demons to toy with us for his own amusement. He fed on the violence our families threw at each other; our hatred sustained him, made him stronger. Made it easier, perhaps, to do whatever he’s now trying to do: tearing the world apart, endangering Mara and all the other women and girls who fight at her side.That’sthe legacy you’re so desperate to maintain? Kilraith made fools of us all for years and years, and he’ll continue to, if you let him. He—and whatever other wicked creatures might be out there, hungering for chaos—will haveyou blindly throwing punches at the Basks while the world crumbles around you, and they’ll be glad of it, because you’ll be looking the other way while they destroy everything we hold dear.”