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His uncle was staring at Jack as though he disagreed.

“But things between the Brotherhoods are… delicate. Until today, we have managed to deflect the rumors about the missing artifacts,” the Princept told him. “But what happened at the chapel is already making its way around to the various organizations. I’ve already heard from the Veiled Prophet. They want to know what is happening in this city. They have questions about their own safety and about whether the Order of Ortus Aurea is fit to lead. Which is why we’ve called you here tonight.”

Jack waited, impatience buzzing along his skin.

“The other Brotherhoods will surely learn of your actions today, if they do not already know. It is essential that we present a united front when they arrive in this city.” The Princept turned back to him. “You’ll be attending the Conclave after all, it seems.” It wasn’t a request, but Jack wouldn’t have refused it anyway.

“I see.” Satisfaction simmered within him.

“This is a mistake,” Morgan said to the Princept. “You can’t possibly imagine that his attendance at the Conclave will end any differently than the other travesties he’s been involved with.”

“We don’t have a choice,” the Princept told Morgan. “If he isn’t there, standing beside us as one Order, what do you think Gunter and Cooke and the rest will think? The hero of St. Paul’s, not invited? It will only make the rumors seem plausible. We cannot allow anyone to think that the Order itself is fractured. No, we must stand united. We must make them believe that nothing has changed, that there is no distress from within our ranks. It’s our only chance to make it through that night and retain the power we currently hold.”

He turned back to Jack. “But make no mistake, boy. Every one of the men from the other Brotherhoods will come to the Conclave hoping to find our weakness. They’ve been talking to one another—trading telegrams and stirring discord. They’re waiting for an opening to take the seat of power from New York, and you aren’t going to do anything that gives it to them.”

Jack clenched his teeth, but he could not stop himself from speaking. “Did you call me here only to berate me like some unruly schoolboy? After all I’ve done, all you’ve witnessed me—”

“Shut up, Jack,” Morgan snapped. “You haven’t done anything but screw up since you went off on your Grand Tour. First that mess with the girl in Greece, and then you were duped by the maggots who destroyed Khafre Hall. And still that wasn’t enough. In these very rooms, you let the Delphi’s Tear slip away. Now Barclay is dead and his bride is gone, and the entire country is whispering about the Order of Ortus Aurea’s failure. Because of you. All the parlor tricks in the world wouldn’t give you the right to speak to us as equals.”

“That’s enough, Morgan,” the Princept said. Then he turned to Jack. “We can’t rewrite the past, but we can make sure to claim the future. You’ll come to the Conclave, as I said, and you’ll stay out of trouble. We cannot afford one of your spectacular disasters. Too much is riding on that night. The Conclave is more than a gathering of the Brotherhoods. It’s the anniversary of our Order’s founding, the anniversary of our greatest achievement.” The Princept pointed toward the windows, where a dark ribbon of water divided the island from the rest of the country. “But if we are unsuccessful in reconsecrating the Brink, everything will be lost.”

On the evening of the solstice, the power of the sun had illuminated that boundary through the crystal of the windows. Then, he had been able to see it, wavering and unstable already.

The Princept looked out into the darkness beyond the city. “The world is changing, Jack, and the Brotherhoods are becoming impatient to claim power of their own. Other cities are growing in wealth, and every day more and more of those with feral magic come to our shores and threaten what we have built. The other Brotherhoods see themselves as worthy of partnership rather than fealty. They want a seat at the table, and they want the power that comes with it.”

“But we have no interest in sharing,” Morgan added.

“None whatsoever.” The Princept turned back to him. “We will welcome the Brotherhoods, but we have no intention of divesting ourselves of our place as their leaders. Before the destruction of Khafre Hall and the theft of our treasures, it would have been easier. We had already fortified the powers in the stones, and with them, we would have transformed the Brink—and the city with it.

“This city was carved out by magic,” the Princept explained. “Its very design was intended to augment the power of those who had mastery of the occult sciences. We would have used what our forefathers created here—the Brink, the streets and hidden rivers, all mapped onto the power that runs through everything—to demonstrate our power to the other Brotherhoods. To show them that Manhattan was truly singular, and with it the Order. Every Mageus who dwelled in these streets would have had their magic ripped from them, and the Brotherhoods would have understood what was possible.”

“Quite impressive,” Jack murmured, trying not to show his true reaction. He hadn’t realized their plans went beyond the Brink itself. He had never thought the old men of the Inner Circle capable of such imagination. He’d assumed them to be relics of the past, naive to the threats of the modern world.

“It’s more than impressive,” Morgan sputtered. “It was to be the future of the Order, the future, perhaps, of the world.”

No, Jack thought to himself. He refused to believe or accept that. Not when the Book urged him on and promised a future that these old men could only begin to imagine. Not when the voice inside him whispered that the future belonged only to him.

“What will you do now?” Jack wondered. They had no artifacts, and he had possession of the Ars Arcana.

“We’ll do what must be done to preserve our power,” the Princept told him. “We are not without resources. The city itself will provide the answer. We may not have the artifacts, but we still have the power built into this land.”

“The grid,” he realized. The city hadn’t been built along the traditional measures of longitude and latitude, but in alignment with ley lines infused with power. All connected to the Brink itself.

The Princept could not stop himself from gloating. “Yes. The artifacts would have made things easier, but the modern age has given us other tools to provide the power we need to reconsecrate the Brink and maintain our power over the other Brotherhoods and the city. Electricity. Lightning made by man. The modern and the ancient brought together.”

It was an impressive idea, possibly even a plan that would work, except for one small issue. “And the Brink? I thought Newton’s stones were necessary to stabilize it.”

The Princept and his uncle exchanged an uncomfortable look, and Jack knew in an instant that whatever they said, this plan would not fix the problems with the Brink. Without the artifacts, they could not hope to reconsecrate it, and this plan would not make it stronger. It would not protect the city.

“We’re confident that the increased energy will provide the Brink the power it needs until we are able to locate the stones,” the Princept said.

They weren’t confident of anything, but they were clearly willing to lie to him and to the other Brotherhoods. Worst of all, they were willing to lie to themselves.

“What we require is that you refrain from mucking it up,” Morgan said. “The other Brotherhoods will expect you to be present, but you will stay out of the way. And if you do anything at all to put the Order or our power in jeopardy, I will make sure that you are sent so far from this city that you never return.”

Jack watched his uncle, gratified at least to see that Morgan was unhappy about this entire situation. “You have nothing to worry about, gentlemen. I’m grateful for the opportunity to witness the Order’s rebirth, and I would never dream of doing anything to put our city or our hallowed organization at risk.”

Morgan muttered something under his breath, but Jack ignored him. His uncle had never believed in him. He’d done nothing but hold him back, probably because he was threatened by his promise. But in the end, he’d see. They all would.