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I dismount. I cannot be rash. That’s what she wants. I grab the cuffs in my pocket and hold them out to her. “You can come along with dignity, or I will drag you from this graveyard by your throat if I must.”

She marches toward me. Daring trots off to a faraway whistle. Beaulah’s Draguns break formation around the Sphere and instead tighten around me. I walk backward away from them. They move with me. Away from the Sphere. Away from Quell, who stands there staring at me in confusion.

“Mother, watch him,” Felix says. Yani is beside him. She avoids my gaze. Amid the distraction, Quell slinks backward, farther away from the Sphere. I spot Yagrin with Daring’s reins in hand, beckoning for her attention.

“Even they are afraid for you,” I say to Beaulah, desperate to keep their attention straight ahead, on me.

“He killed Charlie,” Yani spits.

Beaulah’s jaw works. “It’s your arrogance, not your competence, that inspires you to behave so recklessly, Jordan. I know you better than you know yourself.” Her words are poison. Still, my gut sloshes.

“You’re wrong.” I stop walking.

They come closer. Beaulah still holds her stone. Felix and Yani stick to Beaulah’s flanks. Daring whinnies in the distance, but I keep my eyes fixed on Beaulah. In my periphery, my brother and Quell swing into the saddle. My heart squeezes.

“I’m not the boy you raised anymore. Nor am I the Dragunhead’s. I’m arresting you because I want to and I can.”

Felix puts himself between us.

“Mother, let me cut him,” Yani says. Beaulah shushes her. Yani watches with more envy than anger.

“Give us some space,” Beaulah says, her head swiveling. Then her brows slash downward. She tightens her grip on the stone cradled in her arm. “Where is she? Where is Quell?” She shoves Felix. “Standing around trying to protect me from this imbecile instead of keeping an eye on the girl. Get the dogs and find her now.”

Draguns shift to shadows, and it’s just the two of us.

“You’ll die a Wexton. Never a Perl.” She assumes I care because she does. It’s the only thing left she has to hold over me.

“And you’ll die alone. With no witnesses. No legacy. And no power.” I roll up my sleeves and summon the cold.

Sixty-Three

Quell

Yagrin’s horse comes to a stop beneath thick green trees covered in snow, where my ex–best friend and a redheaded girl are waiting. Dlaminaugh Estate looms in the background, touching the clouds. My body still writhes with a dull heat. I dismount, still haunted by my grandmother’s final words to me.

The girl’s hands are not gloved and her posture isn’t timid. Her sharp shoulders are pressed back and her lips are in a thin line. I only saw the girl once. But she looks like Nore.

“Quell.” Abby hooks her hands. I stare, unsure what to say.

“I’ve got to help my brother,” Yagrin says.

“Meet at my cottage on the south end of Dlaminaugh Estate.”

She sounds like Nore.

She steps forward, fidgeting with the pockets of her dress.

Nore Ambrose is alive.

“Right,” Yagrin says. “Quell, Jordan will meet you at the Tavern down south, the one by your gran— You know the one.”

Abby’s gaze falls to her feet as Yagrin rides off.

“Good to see you again, Quell.” Nore offers a hand.

“You are supposed to be dead.”

She tosses her chin over her shoulder at the Sphere, tiny in the distance. “Draguns are all over these woods. We should get going. You both have a long journey. Abby doesn’t know how to cloak, and you’re probably too weak to. We can stop at my cottage. Traveling by night is safer.”