I'm not surprised to end up in the dungeons underneath the palace. I once walked these halls in shackles, then freed myself with a simple execution of trickery. That won't happen this time, but the palace is too hellbent on focusing on the chaos inside the city to notice the familiar-looking woman being led towards her doom. Only, she's not the person they have smiled at, spoken to, fed and provided a life for.

The few that recognize me underneath white hair and red eyes stop in their tracks. Their mouths stop short of falling open. Just as soon as I have arrived, I'm in a dungeon cell to wait out my fate.

It seems to take hours. Hours that I don't hear from Cloak, Gustus, Theo—anyone that might help me. Setsuko kept her head down as Aela dragged her back up the dungeon stairs, saying they needed to find their mother. Her words were clipped. She's not pleased with how this night has gone, and I fear the day won't be any better.

As I wait for my death, random guards bring in soulless soldiers that were cornered, then captured when they couldn't get through to their queen's order. Shortly after they arrive, they disintegrate into ash once Wyetta Terravale realizes they won't appear from the city innards any time soon. Their dark cells remain empty, only illuminated when the dungeon walkways are exposed against an open door.

Finally, a young guard with shaking hands retrieves me from my cell but we don't go far. He deposits me in an interrogation room with four strong walls and a bolted door that he locks from the outside, leaving me alone within. I stare down at the wooden chair covered in claw marks, the wobbly table, and the single seat on the other side.

A blood stain in the corner of the room, seeping into the cracks between thick stone, catches my attention. I swallow the dryness in my throat, surprised when vomit replaces it.

My body is exhausted from using such a large amount of magic in a short period of time. Luminaries are mostly limitless in what they can do. Every other magical being in this land, whether wizard, witch, or healer, must keep a strong eye out for their limitations. Their magic will drag their bodies down, same as mine is doing.

I have no desire to partake in their waiting game, but the weight of the shackles around my wrists tugs me towards the chair and I wince against the bark in my bones as I ease myself down. The wood groans, threatening to break underneath my drooping weight, but I have more important matters to worry about. My life, my family, whether I'll ever be forgiven.

Either way, I won't regret protecting what others refused to.

I remain in the chair for another stretch of time that expands beyond the normal limits. Nothing outside the door alerts me to an approaching guard, royal member, or living beast entirely. I'm alone. I hang my head, closing my burning eyes to drift off into an unforgiving sleep, when the door opens.

My head shoots up in expectance of seeing someone I can trust, someone that can save me, but I frown at Aela's matching expression. She comes into the room, just barely, and presses her back to the closed door. The guard on the other side bolts the door so I can't make a mad escape against one of the strongest women in the kingdom. As if I would ever try.

She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at me. I don't know what to say, where to look. My ability to breathe normally without fear of being sliced apart suddenly vanishes and I'm left to figure out how to return my body to its normal functions. I won't have much longer to figure it out—hours at most.

Extensive time has passed already, at least I believe, but Aela hasn't received the chance to change out of her armor or clean off her face more than to swipe her fingers across it, spreading the black blood through her rough curls and across her eye, cutting into the bridge of her nose. Covered with enough blood of her own making, I can't tell where her jaw ends and where her neck begins.

She stares at me for longer than I'm comfortable with. I go back to ogling at the table instead of her, focusing on the rough grooves in the wood, the obvious cuts of someone jamming their blade into the surface to instill fright in whoever sat in my chair before this, the clump of dark hair stuck to the corner. Many have died in this room. I wonder when the most recent death occurred, if I could have listened to their screaming after descending a few stairs.

Aela sighs through her nose. "How could you hide that so well?" she questions.

I arch a brow at her frown, staring at her sidelong. She conveys nothing other than a firm, unbreakable expression. Aela has never been one for joking.

"I was desperate to save my life," I say to the table. "I would've done anything all those months ago to protect myself."

She looks over the change in my features with a curious, keen eye. "I can hardly believe it. I had my suspicions, but—"

The door bursts open at her back, pushing Aela forward, and she nearly stumbles into the table if not catching herself first. Millicent doesn't regard her daughter on the other side while strutting into the room, adjusting the cuffs of her maroon gambeson. Unlike the rest of the fighters, she has received the proper time to take a bath, comb her hair, and dress accordingly.

I scowl. There's a reason her children, guards, and ordinary citizens are still being tended to. Some, like Aela, are still waiting for their chance.

She's clean, well-dressed, and maintains a professional appearance as a queen. But stress is written on her face like someone painted it on there.

At first, she doesn't realize the volume of this interrogation. She doesn't even look at me once her attention goes to adjusting the unruly buttons on her sleeve. I wait impatiently, stopping myself short of screaming in her face to focus on something other than her wardrobe in the dankest part of the palace. I doubt she ever visits here except to kill or interrogate.

Aela looks between me and her mother. We anticipate the worst, possibly an immediate death, but when Millicent looks at me, a hand flies to her chest and a gasp loosens from her throat. As if I'm a spider and not a Luminary that has lived in her palace for months. The white hair, the red eyes, the mud and sweat sticking to my clothes after protecting what I could—she takes everything in, same as her daughter did when she came into the room moments ago.

Just the three of us. I half expected for Gustus to come into the room and plead for my life. Clearly, I haven't meant enough other than to save his ass from losing a royal title. The prince should have stepped up to protect his land instead of throwing someone else into the fire to quell the flames. If Millicent hands over the crown by order of age, I hate to think Gustus won't be worth the throne. The future leader of Rivian should be there for his people even if he hides a deadly secret.

As that thought runs through my mind, the door opens once more. I wasn't paying close enough attention to the lack of locks clicking on the other side and I straighten in my seat at the sight of Gustus sliding into the room, hardly leaving himself enough room to fit through the open crack in the door. His wide eyes go to me first, then his mother. She hasn't moved since walking in. The side of the table practically melts against her solid presence.

A small, forgiving part of me doesn't hate Gustus completely. The first feeling I receive is relief, then curiosity. Did they get Cloak out? Is he back at the palace? I shouldn't expect the door to open again, the last thing he wishes to do is see me.

I open my mouth to ask about Cloak, but the queen beats me to it. "How could you be so foolish?" she snaps.

My nostrils flare in annoyance. There's no time to draw this out and procrastinate the truth. "I needed to protect my life," I practically growl. "If I would've told anyone I was a Luminary, my life would not have extended beyond your throne room. I meant no harm, I never meant to hurt any of you." Exposing my palms, I add, "I thought of my life, and my brother's. That is all."

The opposite chair remains vacated. Millicent presses her palms to the wooden surface of the table, leaning over it, and deepens a beautiful frown. "You lived in my palace for months. You could have endangered my family greatly with your abilities."

The same abilities as hers. I find it hard to believe I have something in common with the queen of Rivian, but Wyetta didn't force the Luminary strengths on just me. Millicent received the same unwanted attention without consent. "I did what I had to do to ensure my brother received the potions he needed to keep his pain away. If I died, my marriage would have ended. If my marriage ended, my brother doesn't receive those potions anymore."

She scoffs and pushes herself off the table's surface, standing back to cross her arms over her chest. Standing over her shoulder, Aela continues to study me. I would love to understand the battle going on in her mind, choosing whether to kill me now or later to escape her mother's wrath. They'll make an example of me to the people. I helped, I saved them. Being a Luminary towers above all offenses.

Millicent will say that it doesn't matter what we do—if we carry Wyetta's gene, treason of the highest order must be rewarded with death.

"I did what you requested," I say softly. "I was an anchor for your son. I revealed myself to keep the city safe."

"You should die for this." Millicent slams her fist into the table. The wooden board cracks underneath the added strength applied by unwanted magic. She looks down at it with a flicker of shock in her eyes. Blinking it away, a steeled frown takes over. "Being a Luminary is treason. What you have done doesn't warrant life; protecting my city grants you nothing but a chance to say farewell to those you saved. I do not show mercy to what my sister has created." I detect every sliver of indignation and bitterness in her tone.

She practically spits out her association with Wyetta. They grew up together, fought and played, then had to find a life for themselves after their father banished them from home. He wouldn't accept two Luminaries; they were too dangerous. Suddenly, he lost two daughters that he wanted to protect and care for in his old age. Husbands were out of the question, as was a solid future, so he made the tough decision to force Millicent and Wyetta out into the world to fend for themselves.

Tales of Millicent's sorrow have long since ravaged around crackling fires and in dark rooms. Wyetta had already moved on and left her sister to pick up the sharp shards of regret.

If I am to die tonight, there is no fault in fighting for myself.

I steel myself and gather courage I didn't know I had. "You fled the city and left your people to face the threats of the Terravale line; your blood," I shout, surprised at the surge of anger that comes with the words. "Along with your children, I stayed out there, created a wall of ice to draw back Wyetta's forces, and they fled—leaving most of the city intact."

All three of them stare at me, their eyes wide. If not for the shackles, I would press my palms firmly onto the table and create a ruckus of my own.

A deep rumble fills my voice. Now I have their attention. I swallow nervously and plunge ahead. "Because of this, my life should be spared. My being a Luminary has caused no harm to you or your family; I have lived in the palace for months, hiding the magic you fear, and I didn't hurt a single soul." Excluding Cloak's hatred for me now.

"Every Luminary, whether civil or outraged, is a threat to my throne and my kingdom," she barks. "You could have snapped at any given moment and killed everything in your path. Every Luminary breaks."

"That is of your sister's knowledge," I retort quickly. "She told me the same thing when she thrust these powers on me. Luminaries don't break, they don't kill, they only carry a burden with them from the moment they're transformed. It is your sister that causes these circumstances, not the Luminaries themselves."

Aela shifts uncomfortably on her feet, loose stone crunching underneath her boots. Now that she has digested enough of my identity, she chooses to stare at the floor instead. This interrogation—or whatever this is—belongs completely to her mother. These two children are just here to listen, to provide support when necessary, and hopefully, to keep the queen of Rivian from killing me in this chair.

"Every soul is responsible for their own actions," Millicent points out.

I calm my racing heart with a deep breath and fold my hands together. My chains clatter against the side of the chair. "That is true. But you can trust me when I say that I never break. My intention was never to take anything that didn't belong to me, only to stop you from taking a life that didn't belong to you."

I watch Millicent through lowered brows. What I have just said might be the only reason she takes my life. No one speaks to a queen in this manner, no one other than the her equal. Not her children, not her subjects, not her servants. Though, a king couldn't speak to her this way. He'd die on the spot.

Millicent stares at me. A thick tension floods the air, and from her face twisting into rage, I can tell the fire in her chest roars with vicious promise.

She doesn't speak, so I take that as my chance to plea for my life one last time. My voice softens to the point of being unrecognizable, to being the woman I was when I first arrived here. "I kept to myself and did what was asked of me," I say. "If I had to, I would have no problem protecting this palace from the beginning. That is my duty to the kingdom, to the people, and to you."

"She saved many lives tonight," Gustus speaks up from the back wall. I still have trouble looking at his dirt-streaked face. Blood has dried to his skin and absorbed that dirt, leading me to believe he never stepped foot on the battlefield at all but chose to run through a windstorm instead. "Marie protected the city better than all four of the royal children."

"Marie's attempts do not go unnoticed." Attempts. My success, rather. Millicent drops her eyes to the table. "But she is to lose her life for this."

My stomach seizes with fear, legs poised to run at the first chance I get. "You can't—"

Aela clears her throat, cutting me off. I think she means to shut me up completely by completing what her mother asks. She won't meet the eye of anyone in the room. Not even her mother. Someone she has loyally served from the start. She is the youngest of the four; the most loyal and brave. A strong favor to be queen if Millicent chooses a list other than seniority.

"I will not allow that to happen," she whispers. "All the royal children will not stand for it."

Am I hearing her correctly? To ensure I'm not going insane, I look back at Gustus to find a similar, stunned expression that I know mirrors my own. The princess has never shown any care for me, in fact, she has wanted to take my head from the start. She was clever to never trust a magic-user and that kept her in her mother's grasp, protected her capability to take the throne if she obeyed to every rule and law.

I have never seen Aela do anything other than bow. If being a Luminary is treason, this is worse.

Millicent straightens and pivots towards her daughter. "All of my children will bow to my order," she growls. "Whether you agree with this or not, magic is treason." That phrase bleeds into my ears, my sleep, and makes my body tighten with the need to object. I have heard it too many times to avoid squirming in my chair at the sound of those three words leaving the queen's plump lips.

"Just this one time, we won't allow this to happen." Aela paints a saddened smile onto her face. "We will fight for Marie's life. Four of us against one...it could become deadly." She's betting on the fact that Cloak doesn't side with his mother. I know I have at least three royal children on my side, minus the one that promised to protect my life until the day one of us died. The reason for the pendant around my neck. "Marie protected the kingdom. I choose not to ignore that."

I can't remove the obvious shock from my face. The smartest decision I could make would be to play it off as something minor; I expected this to happen. That is, obviously, not the case. Gustus was supposed to be the person that threatened their mother with a battle, not Aela. In fact, she was the last one on the list I thought of siding with.

Millicent's face turns as red as a tomato. "You appear to have gotten what you wanted," she grovels. She jerks her chin towards the raven pendant resting against my chest. My hand strays towards it, clutching tight in case she thinks of taking what belongs to me.

We stare at each other as she takes in every bit of information revealed in this interrogation. She is itching to return back to her subjects, to begin planning for the next attack and what must happen to keep the city safe now that Wyetta brought down the wall around the Void. Up close, her violet eyes aren't nearly as threatening as they are from across the throne room. Bordered on metal roses and thorns, her black feathers and arched brow bleed intimidation. Not here, not in plain clothing and a light layer of cosmetics to accent her stunning features.

"I am not fond of mercy," she whispers, only to me. "Rivian should be known for its fury...but I have other matters to tend to than the petty life of a Luminary that has caused no harm to my subjects."

Each breath I take sears my chest. She is beginning to come around to the idea of me surviving this ordeal. I can walk free; I can live a life that protects my family and the royals. They'll know who I am, I won't have to hide anymore.

Millicent shoots a knowing look into my eyes. This time, compared to all others, I am not afraid to meet her order. "If you do anything out of the ordinary, the smallest slip, I will not hesitate to kill you. My children see something in you that I can't fathom, and my leadership is required elsewhere other than killing each of them—one by one—after everything I have done to grant them life and protection." Her eyes dart to Aela's stiffened form by the door, then back to me. She steps back, already walking towards the door. "Remove her shackles."

I have never heard more beautiful words than those. A cracked sob escapes me.

Aela steps forward and takes my wrist, bending low to fit the key into the lock. Grabbing onto my chin, she forces all emotion to leave my paling face. I meet her stare and contemplate hugging her if not for the warning fire in her eyes. "If I notice anything is amiss, I will not hesitate to take your freedom," she warns.

"I'm sorry for lying," I blurt. An apology is the first thing that comes to mind. "I promise to do what it takes to earn your trust—all of your trusts." The shackles fall away and I spring from my chair, nodding at the queen in the doorway.

She presses her back to the wall and extends her hand out towards freedom. I am a standing Luminary with no shackles on my wrists; my life given to me by a queen that doesn't grant mercy to the softest of her people. To show them she is the true queen, compared to King Arithmud and Queen Wyetta, Millicent must convey all sense of death and dread when facing those that lurk to take what she has earned.

I practically stomp past Gustus and shove myself through the doorway. His sister did more to save my life than he did, and after giving me no other option than to reveal my true self to Exole. Wyetta knows my face, she remembers my name and breaking my brother's spine. She won't forget that I halted her efforts to take the city.

All I want to focus on right now is finding Cloak. I must explain this to him; my side of the truth. Then I'll see just how much the prince trusts me.