“If Prince Ruenen promises to fight for the rights of magical folk, then I will help him usher in this change,” said Raife. “For us. For future generations.” He stared straight at Thora on that last sentence.

“I do promise.” Ruenen placed his hand over his heart. “I swear to you, here and always, that Nevandia will be welcoming to all. We will teach and we will grow together.”

Raife stepped out of his brother’s reach and approached Ruenen. He held out his calloused hand, and Ruenen smiled, shaking it vigorously.

“Fuck,” shouted Leif, kicking at the dust on the floor, issuing a cloud of copper.

Raife had put his twin in a tricky situation. Would this decision split the brothers apart? Leif and Raife stared at each other, silent words traveling through the space between them.

Leif then ran a clawed hand through his curly hair. “You can’t go without me, Raife.” He crossed his arms, glaring viciously at Marai and Ruenen. “If my brother and I get killed, I’m blaming you.”

Ruenen hadn’t expected this, and judging from the sharp intake of breath from Marai, she hadn’t, either. She’d told Ruenen last night that Leif’s hatred of humans was staunch, but it appeared the bond with his brother trumped all.

Three more . . .

Aresti shrugged and cracked her neck back and forth. “Well, I guess I’m in, too.”

Keshel tensed, sending his cousin a disappointed, narrow-eyed look.

“What’s the point in staying if Kadi, Raife, and Leif are going?” she asked him.

“Because you’re safe here,” Keshel said.

“And bored,” stated Aresti. “I’m not going to stay here with you and Thora. That sounds horrible. Besides, I’m curious about the rest of this continent. I want to see the places where we’re from. Our people once lived in the Middle Kingdoms and Grelta. Well, I want to reclaim our homeland.”

Thora chewed on her lower lip, her fingers rubbing up and down her brown arms. She and Keshel exchanged glances. Ruenen guessed this was hardest for Thora. Marai said that she’d always been the mother hen, the caretaker. Thora had kept all the fae safe, fed, and clothed for years. Everything she’d done was to protect them. Now, they were all grown and willfully headed into danger. There was nothing more Thora could do for them.

She nodded slowly, staring intently at the floor. Despite her fear, Thora wouldn’t be separated from her family. Ruenen didn’t miss the shy, darting glance at Raife, either. Perhaps Thora also craved that glorious dream of home and family.

All eyes drifted to Keshel. A deep crease formed between his eyebrows. Ruenen wondered if Keshel might crack a tooth at the tension in his jaw.

“I’ve witnessed this scene play out many times,” Keshel said. “My heart breaks to finally see it come to pass. To lose you all.”

“Keshel—” Marai started.

He held up a bony hand. “I cannot stop any of you from leaving. You’re adults and responsible for your own choices, but I won’t be joining you. I hold no loyalty to humans or Astye. If you all leave, then I, too, will go somewhere else.”

Marai scowled. “Where will you go? You’re not going to be able to avoid humans, no matter where you are.”

“I intend to go abroad. Away from these tainted lands.”

The room stilled as the fae gaped at Keshel. Is he abandoning his people?

“And what exactly do you intend to do abroad, all by yourself?” Marai asked, crossing her arms. “This is a more absurd idea than fighting against Tacorn.”

“I intend to learn more about magic.”

Marai didn’t like that answer. Her face darkened.

“Why do you need to do that now? Why not come with us first, help us win against Rayghast, then go exploring?” asked Marai. “Gods, you could go to Kaishiki and visit the Nine Kingdoms Library and learn a thousand things there. It supposedly houses Laimoen’s Book of Knowledge.”

“There’s far too much we don’t know about magic. Its history has all but disappeared, and if dark magic is spreading, I need to know what can be done to stop it,” Keshel said.

“You would be stopping it,” said Aresti, “if we kill Rayghast. Then the dark magic goes away, right?”

“Nothing is that easy,” Keshel replied. “Dark magic leaves lingering effects: those shadow creatures, the Nevandian lands . . . and possibly another wielder may emerge. We need to learn how to get rid of it entirely. Only then will we be safe.”

Kadiatu came to Keshel’s side. She took his hands and held them close to her chest. “We’ve never done anything without you, Keshel. We need you. We’re a family. We need our leader.” Her amber doe eyes glistened, pleading.

Keshel thawed under her emotional gaze; the slightest relaxation in his shoulders, in the pinch of his brows.

“It would be an honor to have you on my council, Keshel,” Ruenen said slowly. He dangled the carrot, hoping Keshel, a natural leader, would be enticed by the prospect.

Keshel’s lips pressed into a fine line. “Your people will not accept a faerie on the council.”

“I don’t care what my people will or will not accept,” said Ruenen. “It’s my choice who I place on my Witan. If we’re to build a better Nevandia, I want you all by my side, advising me. Who better to lead my initiative than one of the fae?”

Keshel considered, then shifted his intense focus to Marai. It would be a lonely life, traveling abroad. Ruenen knew what it was like to be alone in the world. Keshel, it seemed, had the fortified steel heart to do it, but Ruenen suspected that even he wanted to be something more.

Eventually, Keshel closed his eyes, submission written all over the sag in his stance. “I’m a fool to do it, but I’ll help you, Marai. Until the war is won. As soon as Tacorn is defeated, I’ll leave these shores to begin my research.”

The tension eased. Kadiatu wrapped her arms around his torso. Keshel placed a gentle hand on her back, but his eyes flickered to Marai. There was so much Ruenen saw in Keshel’s gaze: acceptance, reluctance, fear. This alliance went against everything he believed in.

“When do we leave, Marai? Since you’re in charge now,” he asked with a bitter bite.

In a strange swap in status, Keshel designated Marai as the new leader, a role Ruenen knew she’d never thought herself capable of playing. But this had all been her idea . . . if she didn’t lead her people now, it would fail.

“As soon as possible,” Marai replied.

Bags packed and a day later, the fae gazed around the empty cavern. Their lives had been minimized, folded away neatly into sacks and crates, leaving nothing behind. No evidence that this abandoned structure had once housed the last remnants of the faerie race, save for Kadiatu’s garden outside. Ruenen tasted their hesitation in the air, sour on his tongue. It was hard to leave the safety and security they’d built for years. Guilt gnawed at him.

“Can you . . . can you really take us all through the portal?” Thora asked Marai, not trying to hide the tears streaming down her face. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she surveyed the empty space.

Kadiatu linked arms with her and leaned her head against Thora’s shoulder.

“I’ve never tried it with so many people, but I think so,” Marai said as Raife placed a hand on the cavern wall, saying goodbye.

Ruenen turned away; he wanted to give the faeries these final private moments.

Marai, however, was not so attached to the cave.

She lifted her arms and magic burst forth from her fingers in shimmering multi-colored, electric light. The portal appeared, a solid thing, no longer weak and wobbly as it had been the first time in the Tacorn dungeon. Ruenen smiled, so impressed by how far she’d come. She’d learned to pull deep from the well inside without draining herself, without tapping into that strange, poisonous dark magic.

“This will take us to the glen outside of Kellesar. Let Ruen go first.”

He grinned at the nickname and the offhanded way she’d said it. With a deep breath, Ruenen stepped into the portal. He felt the familiar sensation of Marai’s power all around him, wrapping him up in the arms of her magic. He swayed, lightheaded, under its potency, addicted to the high of her touch.

Leif appeared next to Ruenen, hands on his weapons. Together, they walked through to the other side. Ruenen’s body adjusted to the change in temperature. A soft, cool breeze greeted him as his feet touched the earth, significantly more pleasant than the arid desert air.