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“My murder is intended to send a message, then.” His gaze sliced to the doors. “No need to explain yourself any further. I believe I know who is pulling your strings.”

I turned.

Arcturus had arrived, still holding his swords. Rephaite blood streaked his face like war paint.

“Arcturus Mesarthim.” Jaxon let out a soft laugh, drawing me back. “My, my. Itisyou.”

I used the distraction to break his grip and step away from him. Jaxon seemed too diverted by the reunion to notice.

It was jarring to see them both in the same place, these people who had left such deep and disparate impressions on my life. After more than twenty years, Arcturus was face-to-face with the traitor who had crushed his faith in humans, whose selfishness had caused him untold suffering.

“Jaxon Hall.” His tone was curt. “You looked different when I saw you last. I did not know your name then.”

“You look just the same. How delightful to meet in person,” Jaxon said congenially, as if we were all sharing a drink in a coffeehouse. “I did glimpse you in the colony, but always from a distance.” He had the impudence to smile. “Still in chronic agony from the scars, I trust.”

“As it pleases the blood-sovereign.”

“You have some fucking nerve, Jaxon.” The words raked up my throat. “To stand there with a smirk on your face after the endless betrayals, the gray market, thelaunderingof voyants—”

“I have shed my skin many times. Underneath, I remain a serpent. My nature, darling. Inescapable.” Jaxon gave me the look I had once craved from him, that look of approval and pride. “So you uncovered the laundering. Clever of you. Sheisclever, beneath all that exhausting valor,” he added conspiratorially to Arcturus, “but then, I did teach her. It seemsyouhave failed to learn any lessons, Arcturus, when it comes to placing your trust in human beings.”

I raised the revolver again. “You—”

“Peace, Paige,” Arcturus said. “He can do no more harm than he has already inflicted on me.”

“Austere as ever, I see.” Jaxon let out a dark chuckle. “And ever in need of human faces for your revolutions. You are a peddler of masks. A ventriloquist. A bodyguard without a cause, purposeless—pointless, really—since the fall of the Mothallath.”

Arcturus was very still, an iron cast to his features. Eyes bright as fire, yet devoid of warmth.

“Oh, yes,” Jaxon said, clearly savoring this. “I know all about your family. Loyal to the very end. Blindly devoted to old ways and indifferent gods, and all but extinguished because of it. Still, you seem to have won the eternal loyalty of my mollisher, the new recipient of your so-called protection.” Another crooked smile. “Do you know what he can become, Paige?”

“Yeah, I got that memo, thanks.” My hand was clammy. “How long have you known?”

“Since my first day in Sheol I. Clear as starlight.”

“Of course. Clever you.”

“You would have guessed, too, prodigal daughter, had your wits not been dulled by misplaced affection.” He stared back at Arcturus, his gaze cold. “Would that I could go back and butcher Hector Grinslathe with my own hands this time. Not just because he stole Paige, but because he delivered her to Sheol I, toyou. And look at what she has become under your . . . tutelage. So righteous. So much more liable to die in some pointlessly heroic manner.”

“I see what Paige has become,” Arcturus said, “and it has nothing to do with either of us, Jaxon.”

“Does it not trouble you that she was my puppet long before she was yours?” Jaxon asked him, silken. “Do you never catch a glimpse of me in her? Do you never feel even a stirring of disgust toward her for not being able to hate me—to kill me—for what I did to you?”

“We’ll see about that,” I said.

Jaxon looked back at me, right into my eyes. “What could possibly make you think you have it in you, Underqueen?” he sneered. “You, who are so wedded to your newfound ideals?”

“Because Arcturus is wrong,” I said, very softly. “Because you made me, Jaxon Hall. Because I am your monster.”

His pupils were bullet holes.

“I should be wounded by your threats,” he reflected, “but no. No, not wounded. I amproudof you, my Pale Dreamer.” And he was. Pride glittered in his eyes and hooked the corners of his mouth. “Come. Ignore the order to murder me. Elect not to waste any more time on a lifelong failure like Arcturus Mesarthim.” He held out a hand. “Let me show you my true intentions at last, O my lovely. The plans I have been formulating.”

“You know how I’ll respond to that offer, Jax. You’ve made it once before.”

Jaxon grabbed hold of my arm. Arcturus moved forward. I thrust out a hand to stop him.

“There is more to this,” Jaxon said under his breath. “This conflict is about to change, Paige. Every numen sings of it—the dream of the end, the war of the veils.” My skin broke out in gooseflesh. “Face it by my side. What is a mollisher, after all, without a mime-lord?”