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I saw the moment he noticed me. And despite the horrific loss of life tonight, quiet victory shone in his eyes.

“Lady Alissa,” he drawled. He glanced over my shoulder, shaking his head to hold off the guards. Apparently, I wasn’t worth dragging away. Yet. “I don’t recall inviting you—”

“Mara Capewell didn’t start that fire.”

My claim sent ripples through the crowd like a stone tossed into water.

But Arun remained still. “While your shared blood might stir in you a certain amount of sympathy—”

“Not sympathy,” I said. “Understanding. Mara has tortured countless Wielders, has relished their blood on her hands. But she cannot relish ashes.” I raised my chin, projecting my voice to reach the edges of the crowd. “Condemn her as a Hunter. But if you let the person who truly set that fire go free, then you, the Minister of Intelligence, will be allowing an insurgent to roam these lands.”

The councilmembers stirred, and those who had noticed my Gallery brooch looked toward me in agreement. After all, Rheya had only given out a few Gallery invitations over the course of her reign. The fact that I possessed this brooch offered me a new status. A status that even Arun didn’t share.

Your immunity protects you everywhere but here, he’d said earlier.

I was about to test that statement.

“If what you’re saying is true,” he said now, “then that insurgent will find themselves faced with an unpleasant enemy.”

I huffed a harsh laugh. “Your Excellency, you are exactly the kind of fool any person would want for an enemy.”

The councilmembers gasped at my insolence, and the carefully arranged lines of Arun’s expression flattened. Still, I sensed fresh doubt in the room and knew the words had worked as I’d hoped; the council would at least reconsider Arun’s ability to rule if Rheya didn’t return.

He nodded to the guards. “Escort Lady Alissa from the palace.” He looked me over, voice sharpening. “It seems the Arcuses have not put her on a tight enough leash.”

The first guard had just put a hand to my shoulder when I let my specter break free.

The power rushed out in one great wave, throwing the guards back and centering me in an empty circle of floor space.

Through the tense, stunned silence, I held Arun’s gaze. His eyes widened just a fraction, but enough that I allowed myself to smirk.

And I unleashed the next wave toward him.

His power was already there—a solid, rippling obstruction. My specter smacked hard against it, the bruising sensation traveling into my bones. But I saw him wince, too. Felt the wall of his power soften to absorb the impact—a technique Stian had taught me.

And so it was Stian’s instruction I used now.

I thinned the tendrils of my power, lashed them across Arun’s again and again, moving so fast that he could do no more than rebuild the wall I threatened to shred. His nostrils flared, his gaze darting over my face, my body—as though cataloging every movement.

I was about to release another vicious slash when a new power snapped around my arms.

Then I was being forced to the ground, pinned under a web of spectral ropes like an animal in a trap. It reminded me of the net Osana had initiated under the water tank—a communal form of Wielding she must have learned from her time as an imperial guard.

“Dose her,” Arun said.

“No!” I slammed my specter against the web they’d made around me, but with less force than before. Glimpsing the black-striped dispenser, I thrashed automatically; my breaths heaved out as a guard angled the pin toward my nape.

And then drove it into my skin.

I let out a guttural cry as the power slinked back inside me. Then the net withdrew and strong hands hauled me upright, another tendril sweeping over me in search of weapons. The power brushed my wounded thigh, and I hissed.

I was panting, eyes watering, as Arun’s face appeared before me.

“If Lady Alissa is so fond of the Hunter as to absolve her,” he said, “perhaps we might facilitate a family reunion.”

Before I could inhale another breath, the guards dragged me back through the halls, my boots scuffing as I scrambled to keep pace. With their armor blocking the path ahead, I didn’t know we’d entered the prisons until a damp cold engulfed me.

Hinges squealed. Then someone kicked the back of my knee, and I hit the floor with a gasp, the bars slamming behind me.