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“When they started rounding up the rebels fifteen years ago, I thought there was no way I could survive it,” he says.

“Even if Alaric protected me, even if I physically lived to tell the tale, I thought everything I was would die with my friends. But I was wrong. Even while grieving them, I only wanted to fight harder, to come back fiercer and better. Sometimes, the moments that feel the most hopeless are just life’s way of getting us used to the darkness, so we can learn to find our way out of it. ”

I smile, knowing he’s right. “Will you help us then?” I ask.

“Help you kill the woman who murdered our father? Or help you save Trova from a ruler controlled by the Temple?” he asks.

I examine his expression cautiously. “What do you mean? Aren’t they the same thing?”

“That depends. I’d assumed you were planning on becoming Trova’s queen, but I noticed you didn’t ask me to help you reclaim the throne. What comes after we’ve killed Oclanna?”

I bite my lip. This is the obstacle I knew we’d come up against eventually. There is at least one thing I have to tell my brother.

“You know I was hidden away until the king and queen were murdered,” I begin.

“Of course,” Harman says. “You were raised in secret. That much is common knowledge.”

“Yes, I was locked away in a remote manor for twenty-one years.”

Something is dawning on Harman’s face—a mixture of horror and curiosity. “Locked away?” he repeats. “I had no idea. That’s barbaric. You weren’t allowed any freedom?”

I shake my head. “Only the scraps I could steal without my guards knowing.”

“But how could they…” He trails off, thinking. “Did they believe the danger was that strong? I can’t think of any other reason why they would do such a thing.”

I exhale, hoping I’m not about to make a mistake.

“Harman, you know that most of what the Temple says is lies, right? That they make up all kinds of things to control us better—to keep us afraid and compliant?”

“Of course.”

“That includes what they say about solari.”

For a split second, he just looks bewildered—but then understanding floods across his features, his eyebrows rising.

“You have celestial magic,” he says softly.

“Yes. I didn’t know it myself until after I left the palace.

My power was suppressed with a potion I thought was keeping me alive.

But the point is, as far as the Temple and most of Trova is concerned, I’m an abomination.

I’m a heretic only good for being cleansed and executed. That’s why I can’t be queen.”

“That’s not true.”

His denial comes so quickly I don’t have a response ready.

“It’s not just that you can be queen. I believe you must be queen. Otherwise, what would be the point of killing your aunt?”

I shift uncomfortably at the note of disapproval in his question.

Up until now, no one’s asked me to think about what I want to do beyond making Oclanna pay.

Respen was too busy trying to get me to follow his orders, and Leon…

Leon has quietly promised to support me no matter what.

I’ve been grateful for that, but clearly it’s not enough for Harman.

“What if I don’t need a point to killing my aunt? What if I just want her to get what she deserves?” I say, my voice hard.

“I don’t disagree that she deserves it, Morgana, but you have to think of the consequences. If you don’t step up to fill her place, there’s a power vacuum, and people will start fighting to put their candidate in power. Do you know what happened the last time that was the case in Trova?”

I swallow. “The War of the Laurels,” I say.

“Exactly—a long, brutal war. And if there’s isn’t war, if the Temple manages to control and kill and manipulate anyone who gets in their way before things can escalate, then that doesn’t fix anything either.

Anyone they put on the throne will be as bad as Oclanna, or worse.

Are you really going to condemn your country to that fate? ”

I flush, not expecting the force of his reprimand. “Well, what about you?” I ask.

He laughs, more surprised than sarcastic.

“Me? I haven’t any kind of claim to the throne. You know that. It’s the Angevire bloodline that matters. And that’s why you’re the only candidate.”

I shake my head. “How can I be? The moment people know what I am?—”

“You’re underestimating the Trovian people,” he cuts me off.

“Look at this town—it’s full of people who know what the Temple really is.

And this country is full of people who aren’t swallowing its teachings as blindly as you might think.

There’s still folk who remember a time before solari were forbidden, people who’ve heard their parents talk about the old ways before the war, and even Trovians who don’t believe in the gods in the first place, let alone the idea that someone can steal the gods’ power. ”

I don’t say anything, thinking his words over.

I want them to be true, because that means I can have a future in Trova, safe and free of persecution.

It occurs to me that I don’t know my country.

I was locked away from it for decades. But Harman, he’s been on the frontline since the beginning.

If anyone’s going to be a good judge of what people will accept, surely it would be him.

“Maybe you’re right,” I say.

He sits back, looking at me intensely, and I see now why the Hand have him as their leader. He gives off a natural air of authority that’s hard to argue with, a solid decisiveness you want to put your trust in.

“If you’re going to kill your aunt, do it for the right reasons,” he says.

“Personal vendettas are a powerful motivation, but other than giving you some temporary satisfaction, what do they accomplish? I can’t believe you’re happy to leave Trova— your kingdom—under the thumb of an organization who would kill you just for existing.

I haven’t known you long, but I know you have compassion.

I saw how you leapt to help my people last night.

What about the other solari? The children who don’t have powerful parents to protect them. Don’t you want better for them?”

“Of course I do,” I say abruptly. He’s touched a nerve, and the pain of it makes my words sharp.

“Don’t you think I know what the Temple can do?

I’ve seen a purge—I’ve looked friends in the eyes as clerics slit their throats.

But it’s not exactly an easy choice to decide to overthrow the whole system. ”

“I’ve been fighting this fight for fifteen years, sister, and it’s often not more complicated than that. All it takes is for people to stand up—in whatever way they can—for a few drops of action to become a wave, then a tide of change.”

I weigh his words. I’ve dreamed of changing things for the better, but no one’s told me so bluntly before that it might actually be possible.

“And that’s why I can’t give you the help you’re asking for until you commit to helping us take on the head of the snake too.”

I believe Harman likes me and sympathizes with what I’ve been through. However, it’s clear he’s not going to let that get in the way of the cause. He’s the leader of the Hand before he’s my brother.

“You mean Marek Caledon,” I guess.

“I do. If we aim to kill Oclanna, he must fall, too. Without him, the Temple will be significantly weaker. They’ve come to rely on his iron fist for too long, and without him as leader, the cracks will soon show in the rest of the organization.”

I carefully consider how to phrase what I say next. What I’ve learned about the Temple’s leader was shocking enough to me, let alone someone who’s spent his life fighting him. Harman deserves to know this, but he might struggle to believe me at first.

“When I was in Filusia, I met with the fae king. Respen told me something about Caledon that sounded impossible to me at first, but now I believe it’s true.

Marek Caledon isn’t just some zealot—in fact, there’s a lot of lies the Temple spouts that he doesn’t buy into.

He’s there because he loves power, not the gods. ”

Harman gives me a questioning look. “I don’t find that particularly surprising.”

I press on. “Specifically, he loves celestial power—and he does all he can to get his hands on it. It’s why he has every solari captured and brought to the holy city. It’s why he’s been hunting me so intensely.”

Harman frowns. “I don’t understand. What are you saying? What use is celestial magic to him?”

I lick my lips, preparing myself to make the wildest claim of all. “It makes him stronger. He’s a solari. An unusual one, it’s true. His magic allows him to drain other people’s power, and when he drains a solari, he absorbs some of their power for a while.”

My brother’s eyes widen, and I see the cogs turning in his mind.

“That’s why he doesn’t age,” he murmurs.

“Yes,” I say, shrugging slightly.

“I always wondered how he did it.” Harman rises, as if this information is too much for him to process while sitting still, and walks around his desk.

“You said you believe this now when you didn’t at first,” he says. “What convinced you?”

“One of his followers attacked me in Filusia, a fae who could channel Caledon into his mind. I sensed Caledon then. His presence…it felt the same as other sources of celestial magic I’ve encountered. There’s a dark side to celestial power. Caledon felt like that.”

I don’t explain about Fairon—his illness isn’t my secret to tell—but I hope my explanation will be enough.

Harman considers my words. “If anyone would recognize that kind of magic, it would be a fellow solari.”

I nod. “And the fae scholars have looked into it too. The proctor at Vastamae Lyceum is in an expert in celestial magic, and I trust her.”

Harman’s eyes still don’t focus on me, as he thinks hard, almost muttering to himself. “It would certainly be a strange lie for the fae king to tell.”