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Ice-eyes lock on mine.

“Myrzeth,” I say under my breath and immediately feel sick. My brother-in-law’s name is a poisonous fume. I want him to be the first to look away, but his eyes steal the warmth of my blood. I cannot hold his gaze.

When Dravek does not respond, Myrzeth laughs in a disarming manner and paces along the edge of the pit. The last time I saw him, he hissed his lies about the solas into my listening ear. Even though the years have broadened his shoulders and lined his face, he has retained all his good looks. All his charm.

“When last I saw this place,” he says, “you were in a bit of a bind with the Shrouded.”

Dravek’s mouth spreads to a thin line, but he remains still.

Myrzeth scans the dark Reckoning Grounds. I glance around and find every face possessed with a desperate expression. The way fingers coil around pointless lanterns and arms hold loved ones close betrays their fear.

“I hoped you would have moved on in my absence,” he clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “but it appears you haven’t.”

“What do you know about us, about the kaligorven?” The Foremost’s hackles raise. He draws himself up taller, but the edge he had is gone. “You have yet to give us your name.”

“My apologies,” Myrzeth says with mock sincerity. “I thought you might still know me, although I must say I am not surprised you don’t. Ithasbeen thirteen years.” He makes a slight bow. “My name is Myrzeth. I was barely a man when I made my escape from the Vale, on the heels of my late sister.”

Bitterness fills my mouth.

“While I’ve been gone, I’ve learned much about the ténesomni you fear.” He holds out a hand, and the darkness dances across his fingertips—little tongues of black flame. When he faces his palms to each other, the shadows collect between them, a pulsating, black orb.

Ever the showman.

Dravek is unmoved. His eyes remain fixed on the ghost-man, following his deft movements with scrutiny. “And what made you return?”

The specter tilts his head, and his hair flops across his forehead. “The darkness called to me.”

“Is that so?” Dravek sneers. His men chuckle. “Well, since you seem so much more knowledgeable than this entire city, then, please.” He motions at Myrzeth with mock invitation. “What is your suggestion?”

With a flick of the wrists, Myrzeth releases the ball of darkness back into the night.

“Simply this: you need to rethink the way you approach the kaligorven.”

Something resembling a growl rumbles from Dravek’s throat, his levity gone. “We have done everything they have asked us to do.”

Myrzeth draws his brows down and gives Dravek a quizzical look. “Have you really? Well. Pardon my interference.” He shrugs and adjusts the strap of his satchel.

I look at Dravek and note, with twisted pleasure, his placid exterior has cracked. Even in the weak light, I can see the color rising in his cheeks. If anyone else provoked the Foremost in this manner, I would counsel them to stop. But it is Myrzeth. He deserves what he gets.

To my disappointment, the leader of the Vale reins in his temper. His lower jaw works as he gestures, almost imperceptibly, for my brother-in-law to continue.

Smirking, Myrzeth paces. “You’ve complied, yes, and that is where your allegiance has ended. But what about on a deeper level? What about your lives, the way you pattern your days? Does your behavior communicate your devotion to the Shrouded?”

“That’s never been our agreement. All they require is the blood of a sola, if and when one comes into the Vale. That’s it.” Many throaty sounds of agreement affirm his words.

“If that were the case, I don’t think I would have found Utsanek shivering in the dark, would I?” Myrzeth stops and faces the crowd, arms crossed.

His likeness to Ellehra is so strong, I can barely stand to look at him. Except this man wears his fine features like a trophy, whereas they adorned my wife like a crown. The similarities were less obvious when he was last here. With twelve years between them, Ellehra’s elegance and maturity set her apart. But time and absence have lessened those distinctions in my memory. My heart throbs in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time.

“But we’ve left them offerings at the fanum,” someone calls from the crowd.

“How noble of you,” he says, his raised eyebrows mocking her.

“What would you suggest?” Dravek shifts on his feet, growing impatient.

“It’s simple, really. You must prove there is nothing standing between you and your worship of them. Search out those who would defy them by honoring other deities. Eradicate the ones who challenge their ténesomni. Make hunting the solas your priority. They are out there and more cunning than you realize.”

“You would call that ‘simple’?” The Foremost laughs mirthlessly and shakes his head. “What you’re speaking of would be difficult with ten people, let alone ten thousand. And how do you suggest we ‘worship’ them? With incantations and rituals we must come up with on a whim?”