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“Apollius absolutely knows,” Lilia said, answering before Alie could finish, stating the obvious she hadn’t let herself think about. “And we should both be very concerned why He hasn’t done something about it.”

And of course she’d known that, but hearing it said so plainly made her shoulders tense.

“Which means,” Lilia said, “that we should move quickly. If you want to kill Apollius, you’ll have to first make the Fount whole again. It can’t hold everything, not while It’s broken.”

“Then we’re fucked,” Alie said simply. Her language had gotten so much worse since she made friends with Lore. “Seeing as the Fount is on the Golden Mount, and the Golden Mount is hidden in ash so thick that you could choke on it.”

“There are ways to get there. Especially now that Lore is on the Burnt Isles.” Lilia’s eyes clouded at the mention of her daughter. “I may not know her well, but I know she can find her way to the Mount. Especially if you tell her to.”

By dreamwalking. Alie sighed, shaking her head. “I can only see the others with power in dreams if they’re using it, right?”

“They’ll use it,” Lilia said. “They may try not to, but eventually, they’ll give in.”

Wasn’t Alie proof of that herself?

“Now.” Lilia straightened. “There are three pieces of the Fount missing. One was never accounted for, but Apollius had the other two hidden by His followers, in the hope that the Fount could never be made whole again. We know one is in Auverraine somewhere, because the Priest Exalted was tasked with keeping it safe.” She arched a brow.

“Though I don’t think Gabriel ever got that particular instruction. ”

“I doubt Apollius would have told him, no.” Alie was fairly certain Apollius had started His influence right after the ritual, but the decision to make Gabe the Priest Exalted was all Bastian, wanting to keep the other man close. “So we have one. Where are the others?”

“That’s the only one we have an exact location for.

After the Godsfall, when all the pilgrims were fleeing the Isles, there was quite a bit of confusion, and the second one is probably in some rich family’s art collection.

No one knows where the third ended up.” Lilia had deflated somewhat, as if realizing that this revelation didn’t help them all that much.

“But if we can find the one here, we can tell the others what to look for, at least.”

“So we don’t even know what it looks like?”

“I assume,” Lilia said, slightly icy, “that it looks like a broken piece of a fountain.”

In that moment, she was undeniably Lore’s mother.

Alie sighed. “Fine. It’s better than nothing. What do you need me to do?”

“It’s likely that I’ll need to get inside the Citadel to search,” Lilia said. “That seems the most obvious place for it to be. If we can’t find it there, we may need to try the catacombs again, though I’ve looked through as many tunnels as I can get to.”

The idea of scurrying around down there made Alie shiver. “I can arrange that. How will I know when?”

The other woman thought for a moment. “A rose,” she said finally, quietly. “I’ll leave a rose in the door.”

Alie nodded. “I’ll be looking.”

“Good.” Then, with no further instruction, Lore’s mother ducked out of the alley and into the falling light.

Alie sneaked back into the Citadel the same way she left, through the storm drain that led to the manicured forest at the edge of the grounds.

She’d hidden a change of clothes in the hollow of a tree, a ruse that would look like someone was trysting if anyone came across it.

Alie changed back into a court dress quickly, shivering in the chill.

Summer had been punishing, and it seemed winter would be, too, once it finally got here.

She paused a moment, twisting air in her fingers. It had become second nature to check for whispers when she returned from Dellaire. Usually, she heard nothing interesting, and she let the murmurs of courtiers who thought their conversations were private wash over her without much thought.

But one voice gave her pause.

“You think far too highly of your damn Empire, Jax,” Apollius sneered. “You of all people should know that I have more important things to attend to.”

“I’m aware.” Jax’s voice was stiff and resigned, as if this was the tail end of an argument he’d long accepted losing. “But while You are caught up in heavenly pursuits, there is still ruling to do. Our forces in Kadmar are subsisting on starvation rations—”

“So let them.” Apollius sounded bored. “We have the troops to spare.”

“Holy One, I cannot in good conscience—”

Apollius laughed, harsh and brassy. Alie winced. “Since when have you done anything in good conscience? Taking over the continent? Pulling out Gabriel Remaut’s eye?” A pause, and the next words sounded sly. “Killing your father?”

It was an open secret, but it still made Alie start.

Silence. Jax’s next words were quiet. “I did that for You.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself. You were a weak, stupid boy, willing to do whatever it took to feel less weak and less stupid. You didn’t do it for Me, you did it for yourself.

” The slight sound of a wineglass clinking against rings, a swallow.

“I don’t care about your fucking Empire, Jax Andronicus, and I certainly don’t care about your troops in Kadmar.

I care about getting back the power owed to Me.

And you are going to marry Bastian’s bastard half sister, and have lots of weak, stupid babies, and shut up about an empire that won’t be yours for long, anyway. ”

Alie let go the strands of air. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, unwelcome sympathy.

Bundling her other clothes into her bag, Alie affixed the grate to the drain entrance again and hurried toward the Citadel.

Two bloodcoats stood at either side of the doors, looking bored. Alie was halfway up the stairs before they acknowledged her, and when they did, they stood up straighter. “His Holy Majesty has asked for a word with you, Lady Bellegarde.”

She froze on the steps, one foot awkwardly raised. “Pardon?”

“The King.” The bloodcoat looked at her as if she were wearing a live peacock on her head. “He asked you to meet him in his chambers.”

Shit shit shit .

Alie nodded graciously, managing to make it the rest of the way up the stairs and into a secluded alcove beside the foyer before her fear made her double at the waist. Deep breaths, in and out, her mind already tripping over excuses, deals she could make, how she could salvage this.

A cool breeze slid across the back of her mind, gentle and reassuring. Kind. She felt a survivor’s guilt, sometimes, that the power she’d inherited was kind.

At Bastian’s apartment, Alie took another deep breath, did her best to calm her heart. Then she pushed open the doors and strode inside.

She expected Apollius Avenging, just like that awful statue in Courdigne, standing in a spill of light and sneering at her.

But instead of standing straight and strong, sharp and cruel as she’d heard Him moments before, Apollius was hunched over, nearly on His knees. His back heaved like He might vomit; sweat dropped from His forehead to the floor.

And when He looked up, it was Bastian staring out of his own eyes.

“Alie.” Her name was a rasp. “I don’t have much time.”

She froze only a moment before rushing to him, trying to grip his shoulders and pull him up, but Bastian waved her off.

“Something is happening. He’s weakening.

I can…” He trailed off, grimacing, as if fighting back a cramp.

It subsided, and he started again. “I can see, sometimes. And I think I can hear His thoughts, look into them. It’s like the power is being pulled elsewhere.

” His head wrenched to the side, teeth bared in a snarl as he tried to hold on.

“I don’t fucking want it. I did, at first. Wanted the power, the security. But not anymore. I just want it gone .”

Alie had always been a quick study. “Can you see His thoughts?”

“Sometimes.” He winced. “Sort of.”

“Then there’s something you need to look for.

A location, one He thinks is important. A place He’s hidden something.

” She kept it vague. The ways Apollius’s and Bastian’s minds came together now were alien to her, but she knew that in the months before the god fully took over, Bastian wasn’t able to hide much from Him.

If she kept things to broad strokes, maybe the god wouldn’t know exactly what Bastian was searching for.

Bastian seemed to understand what she was doing. He nodded, once, painful. “I’ll do my best. Now go—”

He fell fully to the floor, finally, his forehead pressed against the marble, his breath hissing between his teeth. One hand flailed toward the door, urging her away. She understood, backing up but not quite able to make herself leave.

Bastian thrashed. His body convulsed over the tiles, contorting into shapes that hurt to look at. He made a choked, gasping sound, a drowning moan.

Then He looked up, golden-eyed and all god.

“Sister,” Apollius said, standing gracefully and straightening His shirt. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was looking for Jax,” Alie said, the lie coming easily. “I was told he was attending You.” She almost asked if He was well, but that would be a step too far. Apollius knew she didn’t care.

“He’s not here.” Apollius smiled. “Though I am pleased to see you coming around to your betrothal.” He cocked His head. “They’re not so bad, the plans I have for you. You’ll come around to them, too, I think. You won’t have much choice.”

So calm as He threatened her. Sure He had won, and the only thing left was hemming up the ragged edges.

Alie didn’t respond. She just pulled her skirt into a quick curtsy and slipped out the door, those golden eyes burning into her back.