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Seph remembered the story of how the curse had come to be. “They had everything in the world, but it wasn’t enough,” she said quietly.

“No, it wasn’t,” Alder agreed. “I suppose that’s the true curse of our kind. This insatiable craving for more. We keep trying to fill it withthings, but things will never satisfy a soul, and when they fade, they leave the hole a little larger than before.” His gaze flickered over the tapestry before he turned and walked on.

His words haunted her. Even in Harran, she’d seen how want and desire drove a person to do any host of things. Like breaking the law to hunt in the woods because Seph had wanted more for her family. Seph too had thought that if she’d just had a little more, if the war had not taken everything and left them so destitute, perhaps that would have been enough. Perhaps they could’ve been happy. But then there was the baron, who’d possessed more than any of them, and as much as he’d acquired, it was never enough for him either.Wantwas like an illness, some rabid beast that was always hungry and never satisfied, no matter how one fed it.

And that was precisely why that tapestry had rattled her so. In the beginning, when the kith had had everything in the world to sustain them, still they had wanted more. They had taken, and they had killed, and they had brought the curse upon them all. What was it within man and kith alike that drove him constantly to discontentment?

What was the curse but a reflection of what was already inside them all?

Alder eventually led her up a tight and winding stair that ended at a round platform totally exposed to the air. A massive golden dome capped the open room, supported by pillars that lined the perimeter. The pillars were made of cerulean marble, overlaid by an intricate golden metalwork, as if the golden dome were the sun and the metalwork its rays as they laced the sky.

And through those pillars, she could see the entire kingdom of Weald, every peak and every valley, and the thin blanket of mist that stretched over it all. She could see where Weald touched Light, where the gauzy veil became a wall of dark and impenetrable cloud—a cloud that was seeping farther and farther into Alder’s kingdom.

The mist was so much more expansive than Seph realized. It churned and frothed like a sleeping giant, as if hibernating to gather its strength to rise and devour them all.

The apex of the golden dome was left open to sky, permitting what remained of the dim daylight to filter through the gray clouds above and dust the round table situated at the center, where Abecka, Basrain, and Tyrin spoke quietly over the outstretched coat.

It lay across the table, shimmering faintly, and seeing it now made Rys’s ring tingle anew.

Abecka glanced over at them and stood tall. “Oh, good. Thank you, Prince Alder.” Then to Basrain, she said, “This is my great-granddaughter, Princess Josephine Alistair.”

Seph would never get used to that title.

Basrain approached with a smile and took Seph’s hand. His fingers were cold, but his grip was strong. “Ah. I suspected your relation the moment I saw her. She is your very likeness, though…” He tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful. “She has Jakobián’s face.”

Abecka’s answering smile was wistful. “Josephine, this is Basrain, a very old friend of mine.”

“Let us hope she is referring to the friendship and not the man.” Basrain winked at Abecka.

Seph gave him a small smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Basrain replied and released Seph’s hand—or started to. He noticed her burn with a gasp. “Kithflame? How did this happen?”

“She was caught in an enchantment meant for a depraved,” Alder answered before she could. “We did not have access to a proper healer at the time, so I did what I could.”

Basrain’s gaze flickered to the Weald Prince. “Nasty business, that. You’re very fortunate that’s the worst of it.”

Seph caught Alder’s gaze before Basrain patted her hand and let it go.

“We were just informing Basrain as to how you both ended up here with this coat,” Abecka said with a quick glance to Tyrin and then gestured over the powerful artifact spread before them. The glittering enchantments slid over the surface like water, and just like in the hall of Velentis, they threw prisms of color all over everything. The diamond at Tyrin’s ear positively sparkled in its light.

“Miraculous, truly miraculous!” Basrain commented, shaking his head as he ambled toward the table. The coat reflected all its colors in his eager eyes. “I say. I have never seen its like, nor have I encountered so much power contained within one object. Honestly, I’m surprised this coat can withstand the strain, which is a testament to your unparalleled gifting, of course.” He glanced at Abecka.

Alder frowned.

“But is it truly light given back to us?” Basrain said, more to himself. He lifted the oculus that was hanging from a chain about his neck and held it over one eye as he appraised the coat.

“You think it is something else?” Tyrin asked.

“I don’t know, but one must wonder why the Fates would give it back only to trap it in a device of the enchantress’s making. ‘Through blood, by blood, may your sins be paid,’”he said with a narrator’s air of recitation as his gaze slid over the coat’s glittering fibers, “‘spent from a mortal heart, the heir must claim. A babe wrought by harvest’s light, and virgin be, by immortal’s sight, holds the only path to your salvation.’”His brow furrowed, and he let the oculus fall. “Is this coat our salvation? Or is it simply one more stop along the winding path? One can never know with the Fates.”

Without meaning to, Seph glanced at Alder, who met her gaze and raised a dubious brow, as if to say,See what I mean?

Seph glanced away and bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning.

“You say your great-granddaughter can touch the coat?” Basrain asked, drawing both Seph’s and Alder’s attention.

“I can,” Seph replied.