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Now, Ryon turns on Adrik.

The great mixed-blood does not look in his direction. Instead, he lifts the tankard to his lips and downs whatever remains. He gives a world-weary sigh as he replaces it to the tabletop, and says, “You should learn to live a little, deshun.”

“Is this the way it will be now, Adrik?” Ryon demands.

Adrik raises his hands to the room, beholding it. “Celebrations? Recklessness? Joy?” He leans back in the chair. “I’d rather hoped so.”

Ryon’s fists clench to see him there. “Why do you sit in that chair, as Vasteel once did?”

Adrik gives a dramatic frown. “Who else, if not I?” he asks. “You? Or perhaps, Tasheem? Would you deny me the right to sit wherever I please?”

Ryon finds the answer evasive. Defensive. “Perhaps the more important question is why you sit at all, while the rest of the Council have been delegated elsewhere? There is much to be done, Adrik. Imagine my disappointment, returning to find you and yourfriendsdrinking yourselves into a stupor, disrespecting our Council.” He looks to Tasheem, whose eyes have blackened into pits. “And ordering the humans to serve you.”

“Deshun, we only mean to have a little f–”

“I amnotyour son,” Ryon retorts. “And you are no one’sking.”

For a moment, Adrik stills. His face, blotched by drink, turns suddenly colourless. He seems to chew on an answer, mulling it over without breaking his stare. Finally, he sighs once more, his great shoulders rising and falling with apparent exhaustion. He stands, slapping his thighs as he does so. “You are right, of course. I have let our success carry me away. I can admit it. Our defeat of the brute king has been something I’ve longed for. We all have. I saw no harm in letting the Izgoi celebrate a little longer than was warranted. An oversight on my part, I’m afraid. Now,” he says, clasping his hands together. As though there is nothing else to be said, nothing further to explain. “Who have we here, deshun?” Adrik looks to Ruby and Baltisse, the former looking baffled, and the latter…

“Forgive me your first impressions,” Adrik continues, not waiting for an introduction. “I am Adrik, the head of the Council.”

“Self-appointed,” Tasheem adds, her voice venomous.

“Oh, come now, Tash! I’ve invited you to our get-togethers many times! Though I am sorry about that lout, Xavier. He was improper.”

Tasheem looks as though she would say more, but doesn’t – a behaviour entirely uncommon for her, and once more, Ryon feels off-balance, perplexed.

He looks to Baltisse, whose eyes churn with unmistakable violence.

Listen, Baltisse,he calls to her silently.Listen to his mind, please.

“This is Baltisse,” Ryon says, gesturing to the mage. “She is a friend of mine.” He does not elaborate, and mentally implores Baltisse to follow his lead. “This is Ruby, another… friend.”

“And this,” Adrik interjects. “Is the woman I’ve longed to see… Dawsyn Sabar,” he says, stepping toward Dawsyn with his palms raised before him, as though he would clutch her hands in his.

Dawsyn does not look to Adrik’s hands, but instead stares up into his face, as though she means to turn him inside out.

“I’m relieved to see you have also escaped the Queens. Though, with your recent improvements.” Adrik looks to Dawsyn’s hands, which have begun to glow dully. “I’d assume escaping from humans would not be so difficult.”

“What has become of the Pool of Iskra?” Dawsyn demands. Her tone is low, quiet, and her eyes flicker back and forth, watching Adrik’s face. Searching. Always searching…

Adrik waves a dismissive hand. “The pool remains, for now.”

“Is it sealed?” Dawsyn pushes.

“Not yet, my lady, but you need not–”

“Then you have failed to uphold your vow,” she says, her tone sharpening further, “when Ryon did not. He went to the palace in Terrsaw. He sought an alliance between kingdoms to free your kind from this mountain, and you have been play-pretending in his absence.”

Adrik’s lip curls. “It was poor judgment on my part–”

“You have drunk from the pool,” Dawsyn interrupts, withdrawing a knife from her side. “I can feel it.”

Ryon becomes still, his throat closing, eyes taking in Adrik with this new understanding. He recalls the awakening of his own iskra moments before, and now realises what it meant. But Dawsyn, who has not laid a hand on Adrik herself, stands sure and unflinching, certain in her convictions.

Baltisse hisses something obscene beneath her breath, but Tasheem merely glowers, the knowledge clearly not new to her.

“I would ask you to tell me it isn’t so, Adrik,” Ryon says, his voice deadly. “But I’d be wasting my time, wouldn’t I?”