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I sigh deeply. “When have I ever sworn to the Arcane Sovereign and meant it?”

Quin turns his head slowly towards me and blinks, twice, drily.

Must’ve used that line with him a few times.I flash him a fool’s smile. “I’m not afraid of luminariums, I’m frustrated by them. They are beautiful but shallow. Look at this space, so large and sheltered. Yet it remains empty while so many crowd around fissures under bridges to keep warm.”

Quin grimaces and curls an impatient hand for me to continue.

“Luminism also should not mix with the judicial system.”

“Only misuses of magic are judged based on the teachings of the Arcane Sovereign. Other infractions are judged under civil law, based on Goffridus—”

“Why can’tallinfractions be judged under civil law? Luminists should not have the right to execute entire families because par-linea dare to use higher magics.”

“What else?”

“Those who want to believe in the Arcane Sovereign and his beliefs should, but it should not be thrust upon all.”

“It’s not thrust upon all. Everyone has a right to choose.”

“You pay fewer taxes if you can prove you regularly attend your local. How is that a choice? The working class are forced to pay homage with this. And when we come here, we’re to reflect on spiritual teachings. ‘Moral teachings’ propagating the idea that if we live virtuous, modest lives and follow the rules of the linea, then in a future life we’ll be reborn as linea.” I laugh hollowly. “Is this not simply a way to keep us under control?”

“Without rules, there’s chaos. In chaos, the kingdom would collapse, we’d be taken over by neighbouring powers; violence, death, submission. And the rules in those other kingdoms? No better—even more rigid than our own.”

“So the answer is to live with it? To count ourselves lucky?”

“You will not change everything, Cael.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Doesn’t mean others won’t. Luminariums offer comfort. Hope. Community. Friendship. Support. They are part of our culture and our identity. Who are we without them?”

I don’t have an answer to this and am relieved—possibly for the first time—to see our luminist approaching. I stand abruptly and my cloak plummets towards the ground. Quin catches it with the end of his cane and holds it out for me. I grab it with a silent groan and knot it hastily at my throat.

“The Amuletos family donate sacredbloom,” I say, holding the bag out to the luminist.

He takes it, opens, and breathes it in. “Did you dry it for long enough? We want to purify the air in here, not make it musty.”

I smile tightly. “Have we ever given sub-par sacredbloom?”

“It’s not the rest of your family I distrust.”

My smile stiffens and I give a small bow. “We’ll be on our way—”

“Who is this?” The luminist eyes Quin and roots his gaze on his face, like everyone who sees him for the first time must. His beauty is simply otherworldly, they can’t help themselves. “A new face in our luminarium. And such a pretty one.”

“He’s my aklo. We’re off.”

Quin darts a look my way, which I ignore, and the luminist steps closer. “Perhaps you were born lowly, but follow the teachings of the Arcane Sovereign, embrace the laws of our tremendous king, and you may be reborn into good fortune.”

Tremendous king? I choke and Quin thwacks me on the back.

The luminist swings his head my way, nose flaring. “How dare you!”

Quin speaks, “Caelus is merely... curious. Perhaps you can enlighten him why our king is ‘tremendous’?”

“But of course. I’m here for your enlightenment, after all.”

The luminist begins a monologue of praise for His Majesty that is so overblown, even His Majesty finds it unbearable. Quin curls his lips in a mocking smile. “Indeed. That great, is he?”