“Take comfort in the fact that you would have made no difference,” Eoin said. “Your Queen is dead, your King is gone, and the Empire will be mine.” He bared his teeth. “That’s what you get for being too cowardly to use what you have.”
Gabe’s thoughts ignited, flames springing to life in his palms, burning out any shred of conscience, of doubt.
Eoin was covered in water, too wet to set afire.
But the other Brothers weren’t.
A twitch of his fingers, red-orange threads.
The Brotherhood of the Waters burst into flames.
It took them a moment to realize what was happening. Then, chaos, some of them diving toward the Fount, others screaming and running up the stairs, trying to beat out the fire by ramming themselves against the walls.
With a roar, Gabe thrust his hands at the copper door in the wall. Fire blazed around it, lighting the metal bright orange, making it drip down the stone like scouring tears.
Eoin shrieked. But the sound wasn’t anger; it was laughter, high and delighted. “Look at you!” He swiped out with the knife again. “Howusefulthis will be when it’s mine.”
Embers crackled in the air, the fires burning everywhere finallydrying the waters of the false Fount from Eoin’s skin, his cloak and hair. Gabe twisted his fingers, drawing in flame—
“I get this one,” a voice said from behind him.
A cloaked figure surged forward, familiar, holding a knife. A knife that he used to slice the Prime Minister’s throat.
For such a powerful man, from such a powerful family, Eoin died easy. Gabe had seen enough powerful men die to know that it was never any different from anyone else, but it still surprised him, every time.
Eoin’s killer turned, his hood thrown back.
“Now,” Finn said. “To take care of you.”
But Gabe was faster. He ran toward the copper door, gaping open like a death mouth. The flames didn’t hurt as he shoved his arm through the opening, grabbing the piece of the Fount inside. It felt worse than the fire did, immediately making his arm numb to the shoulder. Pain rushed through him, enough to make him shout and almost drop the piece.
Finn came up behind him, struck the back of his head in the same perfect place Gabe had been taught as a child in the Presque Mort, and the pain flared out as his world went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ALIE
We remain vigilant, for buried does not mean dead.
—Vows of the Buried Watch
It was a miracle, really, that Brigitte didn’t insist on coming.
In their shared childhood, Bri had been the friend up for anything, adventurous and charismatic, able to get them out of any scrape. She’d never been part of Gabe, Alie, and Bastian’s trio, soldered together by unhappy mothers, but Alie had spent nearly as much time with Bri as she had with her boys. When Bri looked into Lore’s erstwhile engagement ring and saw the word carved there, Alie braced herself for the questions, Bri’s insistence on accompanying her into the tomb.
But Bri had put down her magnifying tool and held out the ring as if she didn’t want to touch it anymore. Silence rang between them, its own kind of confession.
“Don’t tell me anything,” Bri finally whispered, her lips barely moving. “It makes me a coward, probably, but I don’t want to know.”
“It’s all right,” Alie murmured. “It’s all right, Bri.”
“It’s not.” Bri took a deep, shaky breath. “But I’m doing itanyway.” She stood from her bench, gave Alie a tremulous smile. “I’ll always be there for you. You know that. But this… it’s too much.”
And Alie didn’t blame her at all.
So now, waiting for Lilia by a derelict house near the Harbor District under a sky blue-dark before dawn, Alie was alone.
The ring weighed heavy in her pocket; Alie spun it around in her fingers like a worry stone. There was no reason to bring it—it wasn’t a map after all, just a clue, a one-word answer—but she didn’t want to leave it in her room. The heft of it was somehow comforting, her nail skating along its facets a counterpoint to the thud of her heart.
