“Seems more probable than anything,” I respond.

He sighs, leaning his head back and resting it on the back of the chair to which he’s strapped.

There’s a guard stationed outside the balcony, which has had bars added to it since I’d last been home, but he hasn’t responded to either my or Fin’s inquiries.

It appears even my guards don’t answer to me anymore.

For the first time since Asha and I split our paths, I’m grateful for our separation. At least if Azrael had to discover the truth that he is the rightful heir to the throne of Naenden, Asha is far away from civilization at the moment, safe in the ambiguity of the plains of Charshon.

I don’t exactly trust that the King of Dwellen wouldn’t have handed her over to prevent agitating the new ruler of Naenden, had Azrael asked for her.

Trumpets sound, and the ceremony begins, Fin fidgeting in the seat next to me.

Somewhat to my relief, the vizier steps out of the double doors first, a hush going out over the crowd.

My heart leaps to see my old friend, the only true father figure I’ve ever had, is still alive, but something also twists in my gut at the sight of him.

How is he convincing Azrael to keep him alive?

Rule one of a coup is to wipe out all those loyal to the crown. Azrael might be inexperienced in court politics, but he’s as crafty as they come, and paranoid, too. Surely he would have had the vizier swear allegiance to him, under a binding fae oath.

Something bitter wells up in me at that. Not that I wish the vizier would have died for my sake. But the change in loyalty leaves my chest tender.

The crowd quiets at the beckoning of the vizier, and when he speaks, his voice bellows across the crowd.

“I’m sure you are all wondering about the change in leadership that has recently occurred in Naenden. That is precisely why His Majesty thought it best that I present to you the records of his succession, as well as those of the previous owner of the throne.”

The vizier pulls out a scroll, one I recognize even from this distance. The scroll that records my and Fin’s birth, as well as our parentage. The secret the vizier kept for the sake of my mother all these years.

I’m surprised at the flush that creeps up my back and neck as he reads of my mother’s relationship with Solomon. He doesn’t go into detail, whether of his own volition or at the command of Azrael, I do not know.

But he reads it all the same.

The sound of my father’s heart slapping the ground, still beating, thuds in my mind.

I shouldn’t care, and I don’t. Not really, that he’s dead.

He betrayed us, after all.

So why does the sound of his heart taking its last beat reverberate in my mind? Why does it make me think of my mother, the questions that have always surrounded her death?

When he gets to the part about my mother’s affair, the crowd mutters angrily, and I can’t help but notice Fin shaking in the chair next to me.

“Never mind why she did it. Never mind that…” Fin stops himself, glancing at and away from me quickly.

But I don’t have time to ponder about what Fin means, because the vizier continues.

“It is with great…” the vizier pauses, “obeisance, I introduce to you, one of your own, Azrael, son of Rajeen, rightful heir to the throne, the rightful King of Naenden.”

There’s a moment of silence, but then the doors swing wide again, and out marches Azrael, clothed in the garb not of a king, but of the city dwellers. Of the humans who dwell in Meranthi.

Fin curses.

My stomach plummets at the same time the crowd erupts into cheers.

Azrael basks in the applause for a moment, though it’s all in his stance and not at all in his face. Then, with a simple gesture, he quiets the crowd and speaks.

“Friends. Family. There’s a part of me that wishes I’d been trained in how to give a speech. Something that might make me sound regal. Less like the commoner I am. But then I think…no. Because isn’t that what’s separated us from our leaders all this time? I stand here, the…” He acts as if struggling with the weight of what he’s about to say. “The heir to the throne of Naenden. But then I look out on all of you. And I see Vinley. You sold me my first knife. Do you remember that?” He lets a brilliant smile loose on the female to whom he’s speaking. “And Bezzie. How many times did you yell at me to stop leaning on your counters?”

I can’t see Bezzie’s reaction from the alcove, but the sound of her name strikes a chord in me. Does Asha’s elderly friend support the coup?

“Arun”—the sound of Asha’s father’s name makes my chest want to crack in two—“how many snakes did the two of us round up together in your home?”

My eyes search for Asha’s father in the crowd, but if he’s there, I can’t pick him out.

Azrael looks out into the distance, as if into the hovels themselves. “I’m just one of you. The offspring of a mother who worked too hard to face the end that she did. I wasn’t raised for this. Wasn’t groomed and brought up at the feet of tutors. I know…I know the feeling of a belly that never quite gets full. I know how it feels when the shadows are your only respite from the heat of the midday sun. I know you,” he says, pointing to a child in the crowd. He reaches out his hand and lifts her up onto the stage with him, her grimy hand interlocked with his.

My fists dig into the chair to which I’m tied, my chest going hollow, as the crowd radiates love, adoration. Hope.

Hope.

Something I was never able to give them. Something I stole from them. Something Asha returned.

“Kiran.” When Fin says my name, his voice is soft, possibly for the first time in years, but I can’t bear to look at him. Can’t bear to see the pity in his eyes. The pity I don’t deserve.

Because what I deserve has finally happened, and I have the best seat in the house.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that he’s got us up here watching, when he could be executing us to make a point?” Fin asks. Part of me wonders if my brother’s trying to interrupt the guilt that threatens to strangle me, to focus my attention on the immediate problem, that Azrael has us prisoner.

“No, at least not the part about making us watch. I know exactly why he’s doing that,” I say, even as my chest threatens to crack.

I dive for my Flame, but it doesn’t stir.

The memory of Solomon’s leeching stone, smooth in my hand, chills my memory.

“I don’t know how to do this on my own,” says Az, and I watch him lure the people in with honey, watch as the crowd leans into him, hanging on his every word. “But we have each other. And…” He bursts into the most genuine-looking smile I’ve ever witnessed. “And I have some help.”

He gestures, and the guards open the marble doors once again.

There’s a pause as the guards retrieve whoever is standing on the other side.

When they coax the woman out onto the balcony, my entire body goes numb.

Fin strains against his bindings.

Something roars distantly in my ears.

Because out steps Asha.