An hour after sunset, a small boat arrived at Camp Regis, offloading Schemel on the island along with the few soldiers who accompanied her. Having returned to her own country, it was not long before she received a report from the House of Sentry that the attack had ceased. All Sexite troops were retreating. There would be no more bombings for the day.

  She could only begin to imagine the mess of the aftermath. Without any strong leadership in the country, all futures were possible. Though she knew little about the military or how it operated, the same could be said about the government and its functions. She wanted certain things, and people did all they could in their power to make them happen. The consequences were not lost on her.

  She grimaced. Crates upon crates of highly explosive astaphite were stacked in the fields. Natives, working under the watch of officers, walked along a path to the depository, carrying the crates outside. They did not stop working in her presence, determined to demand pay afterwards.

  Her last command to Jay had been to check up on her children once he arrived on the mainland. It had been a long time since she gave that order, and no one had come to report back. She was not worried, though. As long as Jenne and Ashey stayed together, they should be fine.

  Two workers set another crate on a short stack as they greeted her. She passed a brief smile to them and waited until they had gone back for another before opening the box. The gems lay in trays arranged in a vertical stack in each crate. Passing her hand over them, they transformed from their various colours to a hot amber. Schemel picked the smallest nugget out of the bunch and rubbed it between her fingers, watching as it diminished in size.

  A soft thud sounded behind her. The shadow of a woman Schemel knew by heart appeared. “Eden,” she said. “You’re home.”

  “I’m leaving tonight,” Eden said. “And I’m taking Hamis with me.”

  Understandable. She stumbled when she turned to look at Eden. She’d been shocked to see Pariston frozen and floating behind the marker. Typical of Eden to treat the significant as mundane. Schemel’s former friend was no longer in Henrikian green; she wore a grey woollen garment. “He is going to Tardis,” said Eden. “And a rescue ship will come for him and Calimer. That is the deal I made with Pillard. It’s the only reason the bombings have ceased.”

  “And what if I do not agree?” she said. “I have men who would shoot Calimer dead within a second of a phone call.”

  “Do that and Pillard comes out of retirement, Schemy,” Eden said. “He will take Calimer’s place as High Commander, something I am sure is already bound to happen, and he will have cause to establish control over Henrikia and its assets. Do the reasonable thing.”

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  Tipping her head in Pariston’s direction, Schemel said, “Free him.”

  Eden’s power lost its hold. Pariston dropped to the ground and coughed. His glower was dark but not menacing. He knew when he was beaten. “You bitch,” he snapped at Eden.

  “Get up,” Schemel ordered.

  Pariston helped himself onto his feet and bent his neck, inspecting everything: the night lights, the crates of astaphite, the grass, the sea, the detached houses around him. He would look at anything but Schemel.

  “I know what you did,” Schemel said. “And I can’t thank Eden enough for being there.”

  “Don’t pretend you are morally superior to me,” he said. “Ashamel is your daughter as much as she is mine. I would say I’m the better parent, hearing the things you’ve done to her.”

  “Oh really, by trying to kidnap her?”

  “I wanted us to become a family again, but you won’t allow it,” he said. “I’m fine with you not wanting me back in your life, but our daughter needs me.”

  The corners of her mouth flexed. Schemel hid her face as she stifled a laugh. “She is not ours,” she said.

  His eyebrows drew together. Pariston’s nose often flared in shock. It did now.

  He relaxed, sinking into denial. “That’s such a pathetic lie, Schemy,” he said. “You were pregnant. Everyone heard her heartbeat in you.”

  “That was not Ashamel,” Schemel said. “That was… um… that was… I never named him.” She found her hands folded into fists, her lips curling into an unwanted smile. She forced out a chuckle in a shoddy attempt to keep composure. “Your father… Pillard… got rid of it. He didn’t want me to… He didn’t want someone like me to have a future with his favourite son.”

  “Fifteen years and you say nothing.”

  “Pillard told me not to speak to you again.”

  Pariston’s heart hardened. He swallowed a lump and pushed Eden out of his way. His first few steps were wavering, but he soldiered on. He did not turn around to see her rub her eyes. Schemel hated him for how easily he made her cry.

  Pariston got hold of a boat from the shore. Calimer and Xenerisis had beaten her again. She grabbed a chest and hauled it to the ground. The trays crashed as nuggets of astaphite spilled into the wet grass. One rolled to Eden’s feet.

  “You’re up to no good,” Eden said.

  “Why would you care?” Schemel shoved another crate to the ground. “Go back to the Grem.”

  “Schemel,” Eden called. “Do not do what I think you’re about to do. Your actions have consequences. And this would be the worst of them.”

  Let it be the worst of them. Schemel kicked down another crate.

  “Think about my people, Schemel.”

  “What about them?”

  “That is all you have to say?” asked Eden. “The Grem will come for you, and I won’t stop them.”

  “I am already dead.” Schemel whirled about and fingered the mark on the back of her hand. “My life drains away by the hour. I don’t know when I will die, but it might be sooner than you think. I have nothing to lose, so if you want to kill me, you better do it now.”

  “You know I won’t do that.” Eden turned her back on Schemel and walked away.

  Alone, Schemel let the natives pour out the remaining astaphite into the grass. They did so without question. Officers nearby watched in silence.

  Schemel sat in the grass with her legs crossed. Criss-crossing her fingers, she made a sign. On the calm Ossen sea, she saw her old love leaving, getting away as fast as he could. She let out a soft breath and the stones surrounding her burned amber, lighting up the grass. She let out a second breath and felt their power pull into her, running through her veins. Three golden circles—the smaller within the larger—formed over the sign she’d made with her hands, spiraling.