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A Curse—there was a Curse in the city. Yet another horror.

They couldn’t take it in all at once. They had to look to those around them to confirm. Faces frozen in disbelief beganto show signs of recognition as the initial shock gave way to comprehension. Murmurs spread like a soft rustle, turning to shouts while still others crumbled into sobs.

“I understand the concern,” Ivain said over the rising din of voices. “But there is no immediate danger. At present, the number of infections in the Fey population remains low, and we are actively working to control the spread. Transmission has been identified as occurring through contaminated water and specific parts of the food supply, and purification efforts are ongoing at key sites. Temporary measures, including the distribution of clean water and provisions, are already in place. We have a plan—”

“A PLAN?”

The question thundered through the hall, loud enough to cut through the clamor.

In an instant, the air crackled with energy, defensive magic rippling through the rows of assembled nobility like a wave as a man gracefully floated out of his seat on a glimmering gust of wind.

House Myridan’s banner rippled dramatically behind him.

“Great,” Kato muttered. “Myridan’s here. Thought I smelled ego and misplaced confidence.”

Chapter 57

The man was Lord Ainsley Enix of House Myridan, still counted among the great and noble Houses even though their chief contributions to the Imperium had been war, war profiteering, and the occasional well-funded coup.

It was the same House that only a year ago had sent a group of assassins to kill the newest son of Ghislain, still a babe in his crib, and, indeed, Kato and Skye both sat up straighter.

Ainsley’s winds whipped at his fine suit and thick black hair as he glided down over the heads of the still-seated nobility towards the central stage. His face was striking—elegant and smooth with a soft, full mouth. But there was something too slick about him. Too eager. His eyes were the color of cinnamon, filled with Highborn light and arrogance. They remained fixed on Ivain as he took an easy step onto the stage.

One corner of Ivain’s mouth lifted, his head tilting—like a fox humoring a viper’s hiss.

Ainsley smiled, undaunted. “Do you actually have a plan?” His voice boomed loud enough to make the room hush. Another little trick of air magic—projection. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re driving this city into the ground.”

Taly’s fists clenched in her lap as Sarina let out a low growl of warning.

Ivain remained silent, hands clasped behind his back as he paced a slow circle. He moved with the measured grace of a seasoned predator, eyes never leaving the viper poised to strike.

Ainsley matched him step for step. “We’ve been stranded on this island for months, sitting idly by as our supplies dwindle. Dead roam the forests, attacking our walls and killing our people on the roads and in their homes. We’re dying,” he said, lookingto the crowd. “Every day, we’re dying. Killed by shades, by disease, by some nameless, faceless enemy. And still, you ask us for patience. Forloyalty. Yet you offer us no escape. Nothing but the Aion Gate, a distant, unknowable point in the future that under your leadership many of us may never live to see.”

Ivain chuckled under his breath. “If my leadership has doomed us all, then tell me this—how is it that you stand here, not buried among the dead, but rallying the living?” he replied coolly. “I must say, Ainsley, you’ve regained your color since I found you cowering outside of Della. I’m so glad that after I sheltered you, fed you, and tended to your wounds—after I made sure that you arrived safely back into Ryme and were able to be reunited with the members of your House thanks to the census records that I compiled—that you finally seem to have taken an interest in the running of this city. Perhaps next time, when I come to you asking for aid, you’ll be more generous with your mages’ time.”

Ainsley’s expression turned calculating, his eyes lifting to address the people on the terraces.

“It is true,” he said. “I am lucky to have those loyal to me and my own. Courageous mages who have vowed to protect us where he will not.” He pointed a damning finger at Ivain. “How many attacks have we weathered? How many Fey lives have been sacrificed? How many thousands of years of expertise and training have we lost? How much of that wealth of eternity is now never to be experienced?”

A few scattered“hear, hears”sounded from the crowd. House Tira was nodding.

“And now a Curse,” Ainsley went on, voice swelling. “Another attack, another problem that we will pay for withFey blood.”

Ainsley whipped back to Ivain. “I would fight for you,” he declared from across the stage. “I would order my people tobattle if I thought you were the man to lead them, that you would prioritize the welfare of your own kind. But I will not throw away their lives defending a Gate to ahumanworld. Not when I have seen the way that you spend our blood. Kalahad Brenin already made that mistake and look what it cost him. Three mages, three lives, three families that will never again be whole—and for what?”

He turned to Taly, his lips curling into a sneer. “All so you could retrieve your prizedpet.”

Taly raised her chin as she felt the weight of the room, of all those eyes, slide to her.

Ivain’s smile was anything but kind. “I would be very careful of the way you address my daughter,” he said, pleasant but with a hidden, lethal edge. “She is, after all, the reason you’re still alive to test my patience.”

But Ainsley didn’t heed the warning. “Given your history, your talent, Castaro, one could forgive a few… idiosyncrasies. But to call a mortal ‘daughter.’” Disgust filled his face. “You’re showing your age, old man. You need to rest and let those with sharper minds take over.”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

“And when will that be? Soon, by my account. And you’ll drag this city with you.” Ainsley turned to the assembly, his voice cutting. “How much more proof do you need that the old man has lost his mind? He allowed the heir of Ghislain—arguably their great nation’s most priceless treasure—to publicly crown his Shardlesswhore!”

Skye’s rage ripped through her like a flashbang, scorching down the bond and leaving her breathless, nearly bleaching her vision to white.