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“I was protecting everyone, you included.” Bristara sighs softly and looks out the window at the courtyard where Arina now rests.

“The more you all knew, the greater the risk. You and your sister weren’t the only ones with the proclivity to recklessly run off.

” I think about how Gregor was out patrolling the streets for me after hearing of the escapee.

“What about my mother’s death?” What she’s saying still isn’t sitting right with me in the slightest. “Do you have information you haven’t shared about that, too?”

“You have always been right in suspecting that it was a murder.”

“Sanctioned by the crown?” Even as I ask, Kaelis flashes before my eyes, over me, in me. But I must know if the man I’ve fallen into bed with is behind her death once and for all. If I am a traitor to the memory of the people I loved most.

Bristara purses her lips, as if she doesn’t want to say. “While we have every reason to believe that the crown sanctioned the attack—given King Naethor’s desire to purge all of us—we have not found anything concrete.”

I sigh heavily, sinking so far into the sofa that my head tips back and I stare at the ceiling. Dead ends on dead ends. What good is a secret society if even they don’t have the information I need? I barely keep from asking aloud.

“We did uncover involvement on the part of Clan Tower, however.” At that I straighten.

Alor might be able to find something, then.

Perhaps I’d asked her to investigate the wrong person all those months ago.

“Not surprising, given it involves resources for the mills and Clan Tower is under orders of the crown.”

“Yet something about it did surprise you.” I can’t help but pick it up in her voice.

“All our information points to Prince Ravin”— Twenty, I hate that man —“as being the one charged with hunting Worldkeepers. Yet, strangely enough, for your mother’s death, we can’t find evidence of his direct involvement.”

“What can I do to find evidence?” I work to put aside the idea of Bristara having information on Mother’s death that she kept from me. It doesn’t sound like it was much.

“The best thing you can do is what you are already doing—focus on the World. Steal the cards from the king, but do not give them to Kaelis. Keep them for yourself. No one else. Secret and safe.”

My eyes drift over to her. Bristara knows me all too well.

I wonder if she suspects that I’ve been siphoning just enough resources from the workshop of the Fool to make an extra card, but not enough for Kaelis to realize the materials have depleted a little bit faster than they should.

One forgery to give to Kaelis…and an original card to keep for myself.

“Is this part of the test to see if I’m worthy to join your group?” Iask.

“The fate of our world hinges on what you choose to do. It is much more than the approval of anyone in our organization.” She exudes confidence in me that I’m not sure is well placed.

“During your recess following the Feast of Cups, we will properly induct you into the order of your ancestors. Then, all the questions you no doubt have will be answered when you meet everyone else. I am not the lore keeper among us; most of your questions are better asked elsewhere.”

I’m silent the entire way back to the academy. Silas clearly knows something has changed, but he doesn’t pry. He takes me back to the academy—close to Kaelis’s chambers, as I ask. I’m just about to leave when he stops me.

“Clara.” Silas’s hand closes around mine. I glance over my shoulder, easing into a more relaxed stance when I see the severity of his expression. The conflict that’s wrought across his features. “Tomorrow is the Feast of Cups.”

“I know.”

“Your heist…” He trails off, struggling to find his words. I give him time to work up the courage. “It could go wrong.”

“I know,” I repeat gently. Silas is new to all this. He’s spent his life under the thumb of the crown. Of course he’s nervous about going against them. “That’s a risk we’re going to take.”

Silas releases me, eyes on the floor. He rubs the back of his neck uncertainly.

“I…You see… Fuck. ” The man curses under his breath, and I lean back in surprise.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say any sort of harsh language before.

Silas reaches into his pocket and thrusts a silver card into my hand. “Take it.”

I blink, eyes darting from the card to his face.

When it’s clear he’s not about to look at me, I focus on the card—the Chariot.

The ink is slightly raised and cool to the touch, as if wrought in actual silver.

I’ve seen Silas draw this card a dozen times, yet I’ve never inspected it so closely.

The details of the horses’ manes as they tug an intricate chariot through swirling mist.

“You’re…giving me a card?” Awe drops my words to a whisper.

“If things go bad, use it.”

“You’re trusting me with this?”

Silas nods.

Months ago, he wouldn’t give me the card even to use once. I couldn’t promise or beg him into it. Now he’s handing it over to try to help protect me. He’s entrusting me with what amounts to treason, given that this card is intended only for the crown.

I throw my arms around his shoulders. Silas tenses instantly. I wonder how long it’s been since someone last held him—last showed him any kindness.

“Thank you,” I whisper. Out of everyone, Silas was the last person I expected to be able to trust. But after all the revelations, maybe he’s one of the few. “I won’t let you down.”

“Good luck.” Silas returns the tight embrace, and we stand there for a breath. When he releases me, he promptly heads in the opposite direction, leaving with the swiftness of a necessary retreat.

I pocket his card and head for Kaelis’s apartments, my thoughts swirling even more.

On silent feet, I emerge into the prince’s room.

Kaelis is sleeping. The indentation of my body is next to his on the bed from where I got up earlier to sneak out. The same spot where I stayed last night. Where I thought I might return to tonight. He trusts me enough to let his guard down and sleep deeply.

It’d be so easy to kill him right now. The rogue thought is said in a voice I no longer recognize. It’s my own, but from a year ago. Bristara said the Worldkeepers were hunted—that Oricalis is our sworn enemy. I knew the crown was behind Mother’s death, and now I have more proof than ever.

Kill him, the voice urges. Perhaps it is the echo of my Worldkeeper bloodline. But the notion has my stomach churning. I turn away from the sleeping prince and silently make my way to my room.

There, I lay out all my inking supplies—that which Kaelis gifted me, and that which I quietly stole—and take a breath, facing my choice.

Do I believe Bristara? Do I believe the woman who took me in off the streets, has always defended me, and knows enough truths that I do not suspect her of lying?

But she’s also the same woman who has had years to tell me everything and didn’t.

If I put my faith in her, then it would mean I throw my lot in with these Worldkeepers.

People I’ve never known. Who’ve only ever existed as shadowed, hooded figures and mysteries.

But who did look after my family—people whom my mother trusted.

Or…

Do I put my trust in the man of flesh and blood who has claimed my body and my heart?

The man who has a vendetta against his father as much as I do.

Who wants to remake the world and make it better for Arcanists so that none will ever have to sacrifice themselves in body or magic to the crown again. If he’s to be believed…

My pen quivers as I pick it up.

There is a third option: Myself. What I’ve thought all along. I take the World and I make my own wish. Damn everyone else. The only person I can ever depend on to take care of the ones I love is me.

“Kaelis…” His name is wrenched from my lips. Pained. It cuts the silence like the first line of my inking cuts the unblemished surface of the paper.

We were born enemies. Made to be enemies.

How could we have ever thought there was a different path for us?