“I used to think you were amazing,” Mariel said to her sleeping sister. “Then you pushed me off the balcony, and I have hated you ever since.”

  It wasn’t entirely true. Mariel loved her sister enough to understand that Schemel was troubled. She lifted Schemel’s hand and pulled the golden ring off her finger, tucking it carefully into her coat pocket.

  She waved the hovering firefly down. Schemel was placed on a stretcher, bound in straps, and loaded onboard. Mariel followed, having promised herself she would see Schemel put away personally.

  The firefly rose high, covering the island with her palm. Mariel’s interest wasn’t in Camp Regis, but in the black marble a few leagues away—the obsidian island that had once been the Midder-Lands.

  In an hour, they reached the middle of nowhere. Within minutes, they were carrying Schemel across the lonely halls of a special prison. Marker-hexes thrummed with power across every inch of the place. They reached the cell prepared for her. Mariel punched in a set of digits, and the glass door slid open.

  White walls, white floor, billions of interconnected spells. Without a trial or announcement, they tossed Schemel inside. She punched a button, and the glass doors sealed shut, marker spells activating around her. Her bare feet hovered above the ground as her body was suspended. In her wretched uniform, Schemel would spend the next decade in solitary confinement. Probably for the best. When she emerged, it wouldn’t matter whether Shaphet’s Law had loopholes—she would be powerless like everyone else.

  On the flight back to Camp Regis, Mariel twisted the gold ring on her finger. Having this much power over everyone and everything felt almost like a sin. She had broken free from house arrest with a single question posed to the guards watching her: With Schemel dying, and Jacqolin growing stronger by the minute, do you think it’s wise to be on my sister’s side? Everything else had fallen into place after that.

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  “Find Jay and arrest him. Find the earthen ascender and arrest him as well,” had been her command to Tenrad. There was so much to do, and rogue Gaverians would be an unwelcome hindrance. A war with Sexton was brewing. She would have to negotiate peace as soon as possible. In the south, countless resources had been drained to the I.A.A. She planned to prosecute Leonard and anyone involved with the forced ascension program. Soden’s president was missing, possibly evaporated along with everyone else on the Midder-Lands. The Black Banner was gaining popularity, and rumours swirled that they might overthrow the Sodenite government. Erisa Zeal had threatened to shoot Mariel’s niece. Agents were searching for the Gaverian. And on top of it all, she had a city to rebuild—Henrik City was currently uninhabitable.

  A telephone rang throughout the House of Sentry. No one answered. No one dared. All the employees gathered at the back, as if the phone were a bomb. Some covered their eyes; others sank to the floor, rocking back and forth with their heads between their knees.

  Someone had to pick it up.

  “Hello. This is Renna Mariel Sorel from the House of Sentry. To whom am I speaking?”

  “I speak on behalf of Felis, Lord Ruler of Yuna. I have a message for Schemel Sorel.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Schemel is unavailable at the moment,” Mariel said. “She was arrested this morning. Detained. She will never see the light of day again. You may address me—Mariel. Mariel Sorel. I serve as the acting Chancellor of Henrikia.”

  A stretch of silence filled the room as employees leaned in, straining to hear. It seemed the spokesman was reconsidering his message.

  “Were you responsible for Schemel’s detainment?” he asked.

  “Yes. I was,” Mariel replied.

  “It does not change the fact that the Grand Mason is dead. Xenerisis and his esquire demand atonement. The emperor is willing to spare Henrikia from decimation if you are willing to cooperate.”

  “Anything the emperor demands, I will meet,” Mariel said without hesitation.

  “Good, Chancellor Sorel,” the spokesman said. “We will speak more often in the coming months. In the wake of this tragedy, let us hope a new and fruitful friendship between our two nations will blossom.”

  From the corner of her eye, Mariel caught the staff ganging up, grimacing at her.

  “What?” she asked sharply. “Don’t judge me.”