Victory didn't taste like I thought it would.
It tasted like ash. Like blood that wouldn't wash off. Like the weight of a pup's cold cheek still pressed against my fingers.
We brought Mira's brother home. His name was Elias. He didn't speak for two days. Just stared at the walls with wide, empty eyes. Kaia sat with him. I sat with him. Draven checked on him every night, but he didn't push. He knew better.
Rafe was in deeper chains now. Iron and silver, locked in the lowest cell. The elders wanted him dead. Draven wouldn't allow it. Not yet.
"He knows something," Draven said.
"About the wards. About the blood magic. If we kill him, we lose it."
"So we keep him breathing," I said. "For now."
Draven looked at me then, really looked at me, and I saw the fracture in him. The line where
