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Agnar’s voice burns like acid as he relays what happened with Sterling during training. His vivid blue eyes, often crinkled at the corners with easy humor, appear flat and hard as he recounts Zeru’s visit. Each word carves new lines of fury into my heart.

The god’s threats linger in the air of my sitting room like acrid smoke that taints everything and seeps into the fabric of the cushions and weave of the rugs. I dig my fingernails into my palms, the sharp pain a welcome distraction from the storm building inside me.

“And he destroyed the middle of that training field.” Agnar shifts his weight, his posture stiff. “Then, poof! He disappeared. Like the laws of space meant nothing.”

“Because they don’t. Not to them.” I think back to all the times gods popped in and out of my life at will. “Neither do basic manners.”

Agnar’s coppery hair falls across his forehead when he nods. “He claims the gods are displeased with how things are progressing.” He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “He said if you continue, there would be consequences. Not just for you and Sterling, but for all of Tirene.”

The fire magic inside me swells in response to my anger, boiling my blood until I’m certain steam must be rising from my skin. “Prick gods. Playing with our lives like we’re game pieces on a board isn’t enough for them. They’ve gotta be creepy and pushy about it too.”

Agnar waits without flinching while I rant. He’s experienced this version of me before, the one with barely contained fury and magic thrumming at my fingertips.

“I need to find Rafe and Helene.” I gnaw on my lower lip. “See what they’ve discovered about those scientist-priests.”

Agnar nods, relief loosening his shoulders. “Last I heard, they were meeting with Leesa and Bastian. Not sure where.”

“I’ll find them.” I head toward the door before pausing. “Thank you, Agnar. For telling me everything. For not…softening the news.”

A ghost of his usual grin flickers across his face. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Lark. You’d see right through me anyway. Besides, watching you lose your shit is oddly satisfying.”

I snort. “So glad I could entertain you.”

On that note, I leave him and stride through the corridors with purpose. Servants and couriers flatten themselves against walls as I pass, no doubt noting the angry flames flickering along my skin. My magic has started reacting to my thoughts and emotions.

Cursed gods. Damn all of them with their riddles and threats and manipulations. Haven’t humans suffered enough at their hands? Haven’t we sacrificed enough already? Haven’t I given enough? My birth parents, my childhood, my adoptive mother and biological grandfather. Olive, Nick, Blair, as well as other friends, and very nearly Sterling…

The memory of Sterling, his mind controlled by Narc’s magic, triggers another irate wave of blistering heat. I spent my entire life as a pawn, shuffled between kingdoms, lied to about my true heritage, nearly murdered more than once. And now that I finally have some measure of control, enough power to steer my own fate, the gods want to threaten me into submission?

Not fucking likely.

I check the usual meeting rooms first—the council chamber, the war room, the archives—but find no sign of Rafe or Helene, let alone my sister or Bastian. With each empty space, frustration mounts. Where in the blazes are they?

It’s pure chance that I glimpse light spilling from beneath the door of a rarely used chamber in the eastern wing. Slowing my steps, I listen as I approach. Raised voices filter through the heavy oak. Rafe’s distinctive bark, followed by Helene’s caustic tones. My sister’s higher pitch slices through them both.

I shove the door open without knocking, using more force than necessary and sending it crashing against the wall.

Four heads swivel toward me, the expressions ranging from surprise to guilt. The group is gathered around a table littered with maps, ancient-looking scrolls, and architectural drawings. Rafe leans over the table with his hands braced on the wood. Helene faces him with her arms crossed and her mouth twisted in disdain. Leesa and Bastian stand by Helene, my sister’s hand clutching Bastian’s forearm as if restraining him.

Silence falls over the room like a blanket. I arch an eyebrow. “Well, isn’t this cozy?”

Rafe straightens, brushing nonexistent lint from his sleeve. “Your Majesty, ahh, Lark. I apologize. We were just⁠—”

“Arguing? I gathered that.” I enter the room and let the door swing shut behind me. “I could hear you from down the corridor.”

Helene sniffs, her dark eyes cold. “More like discussing our differing professional opinions.” When my eyebrows lift even higher, she tacks on, “in loud voices,” with a grumpy huff.

“I see.” I stride over and scan the documents spread across the table. Most appear to be maps of the city’s temple district. “Where are you at in your investigation of the missing scientist-priests?”

The four of them exchange glances, a silent communication passing between them that snaps my teeth together. I’m so tired of secrets. Tired of half-truths and careful omissions.

“We’ve made progress.” Rafe kneads the back of his neck. “We think we found where their own investigations might have taken place.”

My eyes narrow. “And you’re just now telling me?”

Bastian shifts toward me, his hazel eyes earnest. “We only confirmed it this morning, Lark. We were debating the best approach to the location before bringing the information to you.”

I cross my arms. “What’s the location?”