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I glance at Sterling. We both know the divine have their own set of rules, their own terrifying reasons and codes. “The stone warriors were driving people toward your shrine⁠—”

“How dare you question godly matters, mortal. Know your place.” Valk’s words stab me with unexpected fury before she vanishes into the shadows.

The uneasy silence that follows vibrates with our confusion and disbelief. Sterling and I stare at each other, both reeling from the sheer audacity of the goddess’s dismissal.

“That was about as helpful as a spear to the eye,” Sterling grumbles.

As I pivot toward Rose, I notice Agnar heading toward us, his long limbs moving with purpose. My stomach sinks at his grave expression.

When he finally reaches us, I’m afraid I already know the answer before I even ask. “Well? What did they say?”

He runs a hand through his coppery hair and directs a flimsy smile at his niece. “Both goddesses showed up…eventually. I tried to explain what happened at the temple, but they claimed they already knew.”

“And didn’t care?” Storm clouds gather on Sterling’s handsome face as he surveys the damage.

“They cared…I think. But they were dismissive. Like politicians dodging questions.” Agnar shakes his head, frustration burning bright in his cerulean eyes. “Belda recited their mantra a few times, ‘We seek only glory, not conflict,’ which was fun. Eventually, Fennelsa cut in with, ‘We have no comment on today’s events.’ Like I was some damned chronicle-keeper or something.”

Rose interrupts by raising a bouquet of flowers. Her familiar glows above her shoulder, casting strange shadows on her face.

“Look, Uncle Agnar!” She beams. “I picked them for you.”

My heart warms at the sight.

For a moment, the weight of our fears feels distant, replaced by the simple joy of a child who gives without expectation. Agnar makes a big show of thanking Rose for the flowers and asks her to hold on to them until we get back to the palace.

An ache stirs within me at the stakes we face. “If the celestial attacks are directed at mortals, we’re in big trouble. Even if this has nothing at all to do with mortals, we’re still in big trouble.”

Agnar clucks his tongue. “Your pep talks could still use some work.”

I elbow him in the ribs before crossing my arms over my chest and gazing out across the sky. Near the horizon, the shadows deepen. “Either way, waiting for the next disaster isn’t an option.”

Agnar nods his agreement, but Sterling’s attention fixes on Rose, who’s tilted her head back all the way to peer up at the sky.

Her wide blue eyes reflect the starlight as she sighs. “The stars are swimming.”

A chill creeps into my bones. No one has any idea what she means, but I can’t shake the feeling that she senses things the rest of us miss.

I hesitate before asking the question. “Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”

Rose sighs again. “I don’t know yet.”

Chapter Six

Arguing voices echo down the winding stairwell of the Council Tower as I climb, my boots scuffing against a surface worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. I’m not even there yet, but my temples already throb from the tangle of overlapping complaints.

Another day, another crisis. Lucky me.

Though yesterday’s crisis involved a grisly attack by murderous, animated statues, so at least dealing with cantankerous council members is several notches down on the scale of horrific things.

For the most part.

Sterling and Agnar trail at my heels, deep in discussion about proper sword technique.

“Because the Northern Grip gives you better control during the backswing.” Sterling curves his fingers in demonstration. The early afternoon sun streaming through the arrow slits illuminates his profile, highlighting the sexy but oh-so-stubborn set of his jaw.

Agnar’s scoff bounces off the walls. “Only if you want to proclaim your next move to everyone in the kingdom.” He mimes an exaggerated sword swing. “Southern Grip. Always. Unless you enjoy getting gutted.”

Sterling’s mouth quirks up at one corner. “That explains a lot. Exactly the sort of opinion I’d expect from someone who breaks in his riding boots by wearing them into battle. In the rain. Against the corrupted.”