The air in the greenhouse was so cold and dry that Caprea's nose had started bleeding again.

"I thought w-we'd have more t-time to fix the g-greenhouse," she said, chattering as she dabbed at the trickle of blood with a thick woolen glove. It smeared on her upper lip and she licked the salty liquid away, then grimaced. Her lips were already beginning to chap.

Her Pa grunted, spreading a sheet over the yams. "Warm rain one moment, hard frost the next? The Eternal Radiance is angry about something. Go inside and pray, Daughter."

She looked down at the stack of blankets and sheets cradled in her arms. They'd stripped every bed in the farmhouse except the one in which her Ma rested. "But Pa, the frost--"

He shook his head. "I can cover the last of the c-crops. You get inside and warm up, girl. You're half-frozen already." He huddled down into his thick knit scarf, hiding ears that must be as cold and sore as Caprea's own, but continued covering up the yams. "What we need now is divine forgiveness for whatever offense we've given. Now go."

She nodded, putting the stack of linens down beside him with a pat before turning to leave.

The greenhouse door was blocked with rubble, so she crept with care past the shards of glass and the eerie chunk of the Trellis that lay, black and cold, in its little scorched crater.

She shivered as she looked at the thing that had fallen from the sky earlier that afternoon and struck the greenhouse, shattering the roof and collapsing the western wall. The heavenly object wasn't very big, only a little bit larger than her fist, though it had looked like a domus-sized white-gold raindrop as it had descended.

It was cool now, a black shiny lump that reminded her of polished coal. Earlier, it had smoldered an angry blue-green where it had landed, and her Ma had burned her hand straight through an oven mitt trying to get it away from the corn.

Thankfully, the rain had started pouring soon after the chunk of Trellis fell. The wild torrent had spattered through the broken glass and doused the flames. They'd lost the corn and most of the acorn squash to the fire, but the rest was fine. Pa had even joked, as the rain slowed to an unseasonably-warm drizzle, that the remaining crops might enjoy their "heavenly shower".

Things had seemed fine until Dimming, and even a little after, though random flares and rumbles in the great lattice across the sky had made the whole family nervous.

The elderly husband and wife from the neighboring farm had brought fragrant stew and pungent salve for her Ma's burns and the adults had speculated by the fireside about what had caused the disturbances.

Then the temperature had plummeted after midnight and the warm rain had stopped, giving way to a withering aridness and frost that reached icy fingers across the fallow fields and into the greenhouse.

It was as though the Eternal Radiance slept, oblivious, while the world froze. Her Pa thought the god was angry, but maybe the Divine Light was just tired of taking care of humanity. If the Eternal Radiance had turned its back on the world, would Brightening even come tomorrow morn?

Shuddering as much in fear as cold, she clutched her bulla amulet and hurried across the fields to the farmhouse, the frozen grass crackling beneath her shoes.

<>

"You look exhausted."

Bellus felt terrible for Lumen as the worldholder glanced away from the frosted observation window, promenia humming around him as he monitored the Trellis. The poor man had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.

"It's been a long day, Promerenti," the Trellis expert said, his voice rough from lack of sleep and too much promenia use.

"Yes. Yes, it has." Bellus was sure he looked every bit as wrecked as this man. Many mindholders would have tidied themselves up with a light illusion. He preferred genuine neatness and so did not bother. "Is the Princeps..." He trailed off, glancing toward the closed door of the skychariot's private sleeping chamber where Valens and Arbita had retreated with their royal charge.

"Yes." Lumen shook his head, weariness making the motion sluggish. "I don't feel comfortable with it, but I had to weigh the dangers of him remaining awake while so exhausted against those of him sleeping. He needs to rest, even briefly. He and the Trellis will find their balance over the next thirty-six hours or so, but in the meantime--"

"Frost."

Lumen rubbed his face. "Frost. Flares. Rain. Ice. He can't control much while asleep." He sagged, then looked up at Bellus. "I would like to have Peritia issue a warning to the Praetors for when we wake him in an hour or so. It will be early morn, but still, it will be best if they instruct their citizens to be indoors in case of flares or other phenomena."

Eternal Radiance, Bellus hoped the Princeps would wake peacefully. But it was too much to expect this early. If the boy managed not to cause a spectacular early Brightening, it would be a miracle.

"That makes sense," he said, striving to keep his voice smooth. "Comitas tells me there's another communique she'd like to send the Praetors, so I suppose the two can go out together."

"Oh?"

"Now that the Princeps has been apprised of the situation with the blightlands, she's building him a team of Lightholders to address the issue. And plans to use it as cover to restructure the Princeps's senior staff."

Lumen frowned. "Restructure? Are we--"

Bellus sighed. "You and Ardea will be returning to Urbs Hostiae with Principis Heres Daedalus to help address the issue of the Blightlands locally." The Trellis expert took that in with a surprised blink. "As will Cercitis and Astricus. Valens has blatantly refused to allow them anywhere near the Princeps."

"I certainly don't trust them either."

Neither did Bellus. They had, after all, tried to kill the Princeps less than a week ago, when he was still Principis Heres. And not merely tried, but technically succeeded.

Smoothing his voice, he said, "I will be remaining on the Princeps's staff, but in an... advisory capacity."

Comitas was adamant that a trusted mindholder remain on hand. She had not said why, but there was no need. Bellus had no doubt there would be perceptions to shape, memories to alter, and public-relations spectacles to stage in the coming days, weeks, and months, to say nothing of the need to have someone on hand to help Peritia control the Princeps--and through him the Trellis--in the event of another dire crisis.

"Comitas, I'm sure, will stay in Vola Apertus." Lumen's voice was dry.

"Of course." Bellus resisted the urge to snort. They both knew the senior protocol handler would certainly not let go of the reins of power, and in truth, his aedificans, Pyrrhaeus or not, possessed the kind of expertise the situation demanded. If anyone could mold a former Pullatus into the Princeps Worldholder, Keeper of Heaven and Earth, Comitas could.

<>

"The aforenamed Lightholders are hereby summoned into the Princeps Worldholder's service," Cerasus's wife finished reading out loud while the rest of the family listened in astonished silence. "In compensation for your provincia's contribution to this vital cause, the leases of the following Empowered shall be transferred to your curia without delay."

"He can't do this," Cerasus roared, hands slapping the armrest. Exhaustion from the late hour fled, replaced by fury. "Valens and his father and siblings are worldholders, but Arbita? Hedera? Sidus? Aix? He goes too far."

"Aix is impure," Edera pointed out, rubbing tired eyes. "Lifeholder and worldholder."

"I don't care!"

Ros refilled his wine goblet, sharing a glance with Damma. "Darling," he said, voice soothing. "The Princeps Worldholder most certainly can command any Lightholder during a global natural disaster. Responding to this crisis is his duty, you know that. The emergency is--"

"The emergency is worldwide!" He jerked to his feet and paced his tablinum office. "I need my Lightholders here," he said, jabbing a finger at the ground, "addressing the local damage. Yet this little idiot in Vola Apertus acts as though he needs them more."

"Perhaps he does need them more," Ros pointed out. "Love, we are barely beginning to learn the full extent of the catastrophe."

"We have an idea of its extent here. I have a massive mess to clean up in this provincia. People are depending on us to give them their normal lives back as soon as possible! Yet some brat of a Princeps is taking my strongest worldholder, two of my academies' aedificans, and all their bloody alumnas, not to mention--"

"And he's giving you twice as many Lightholders as he took," his lover said with infinite patience. "Including his own foster parents, who are a powerful lifeholder and starholder."

"But why?" He shook his head, settling a little. It would be nice to have Cercitis and Astricus return to the curia. And that many Empowered--and all their alumnas--was nothing to sniff at. But still, it was the principle of the thing. "Valens and the rest of the Ornnithias worldholders I understand. Even Aix. Fine, take my bloody worldholders. But the others?" He shook his head, feeling anger give way to frustrated confusion. "What is he doing? And he's left Valens's useless alumna with us, even though the damn kid needs constant super--" He broke off, realizing what he had just said. And what it likely meant. "Oh." His eyes widened. "Oh, Eternal Radiance."

The dethroned Princeps Worldholder was coming to Urbs Hostiae to assume his twin's place. Eyes devour...

"What?" Damma asked.

"N-nothing."

His wife arched a doubtful brow. "Nothing? Oh please."

"I can't talk about it, my dear. Not yet." His eyes narrowed speculatively. "But let's just say this may be more generous to our curia than I thought."

It could be very useful to have a boy with intimate experience with the Trellis with them, to say nothing of a Principis Heres with the finest training on the planet.

Assuming, of course, the boy's presence didn't get the provincia in terrible trouble.

Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes. He was so tired. It was an hour past midnight, long past the time he usually found his bed, but the work of orchestrating a provincia-wide emergency response was never-ending even without Domi or Daedalus or whoever was issuing orders stealing his best Lightholders.

"Brat should concentrate on learning to control the damn Trellis," he grumbled under his breath with a glare at the window, where frost crusted the glass.

"What?" Ros asked.

"Nothing," Cerasus said. He turned to his daughter, who sat slumped on the divan. She was less tired than sulking after he had blocked her access to the Compendium. "Edera, get me the list of these Penna Igneae transfers. We might as well figure out where best to assign them."

"And Arbita's and Aix's alumnas?" Damma asked. "We need to send them to Vola Apertus to be with their aedificantes."

Cerasus sighed. "Eyes devour, this will be a mess." He massaged his brow where his heartbeat insisted on thudding in his skull. "Make travel arrangements for the kids three days from now. We'll need some people to escort them as well." He turned to Ros. "Will you write their families?"

"Eternal Radiance," his lover breathed, the man's eyes pained. "How do I explain to all those parents that their children are moving four thousand miles away? It's temporary, I hope, but still."

"I don't know, love, but you're better with words than I am. Just do your best not to have them come storming the Collegium." He shook his head. "The last thing we need on top of this disaster is a rebellion led by a mob of angry parents."