Too soon after Mutes departs, I receive my first official summons to the queen's war council room. I lose myself in her decadent handwriting, a style honed on years of serving at court and perfecting her skills as the fearless queen of Rivian. Not a single word is out of place, not a swoop that doesn't end sharply.

My stomach churns. Mutes couldn't have received nearly enough time to persuade her not to take my life, and the royal children have waited until she's beyond the locked doors of her war council room to drip mindless philosophies into her head. I hope something worked. My only hope is the idea that if I am to die, she wouldn't send me to the war council room. I'd go straight to the gallows.

Instead of waiting for someone to drag me to where the letter orders me to go, I walk on my own power. The halls feel different. Quieter. Holding their breath for the queen's outburst and my fate. It wouldn't be the worst thing, to face my punishment behind closed doors so the rest of the palace could allow their imagination to run wild. Rumors spread and lies told—my ending would always carry a mysterious edge.

Down a winding staircase, past Millicent's private chambers, through a dark hallway that barely rises high enough for me to stand up straight, and into a black stone antechamber with a dripping leak puddling in the corner, I find myself standing in front of two large, wooden doors that haven't seen the light of day since they were installed. Wisely so, nobility keeps their mouths shut about the location of this ominous room, as well as what goes on while the doors are locked.

I feel around for the handle, and a hand closes around mine. I leap back, scrambling away from that cold touch, and my eyes adjust to the dark. A simple guard gives me a sympathetic look to blink away the embarrassment and pulls the door open for me. A soft glow bathes the small antechamber in golden light. As I step into the room, I see why.

Covering every flat surface, a wax candle sputters with flame. Melting and dripping, the streams of wax pool down the sides of walls and tables, pooling underneath the candles themselves to rise and burn again. Their hardened off-white beacon is the only source of color in this dank, dark circular room.

At the center of it all, a large, round table accommodates the emptiness. Too many chairs to count flutter around it, and I imagine the queen's closest supporters sitting with their spines perfectly straight, their leader at the helm. Robes draping off the sides of the seats, fists folded together on the table's smooth wood surface.

A map of Rivian is bolted to the middle of the table. I eye the raised ridges of each territory's name, the bumpy bridges connecting the land to Exole, the Void's peaked mountains, and Exole's palace. Geographical studies have created this map—the men and women brave enough to scout these territories and learn the foundations of their landscapes. All so the queen could press small pins into the parchment to plan out her next fight.

I'm not alone in the room. I stop before entering far enough for the door to shut behind me. All four royal children, their mother, and her two lovers, sit around the table. My focus immediately goes to Cloak—his dipped chin and tight frown towards the table. This is the first time in too long we have shared the same room and he hasn't dashed off as soon as my scent hit his nose.

The chair next to his is empty. I am not that bold. Millicent watches me from the head of the table as I circle around and pull out the chair next to Mutes. She hardly regards his presence, let alone my decision. Seating arrangements are not what we are here to discuss. Previous wars were conceived in this room and planned out on this same table. A duke sat here and screamed at his king for leading them all to their deaths, a court joker danced along the map and brought joy to angered frowns.

Across from me, Friava blinks at the table. A ghost-like smile touches her lips, and I'm tempted to ask what she's so amused by. Then I remember her brain isn't entirely there.

Gustus smiles weakly at me. Setsuko won't stop staring at the table. Aela picks at the corner of the map and tries to focus on anything other than the thick tension in the room. It is not often they gather as a deconstructed family, under the sheen of golden candlelight flickering up the curved walls and pillars circling the table like an invisible shield.

Not a window in sight. The only exit comes through the door I just walked through, unless the Raven Queen knows of secret passageways taking her deeper into the palace's depths. Through the dungeons and out a private exit only royals can use. Leaving people like me, Mutes, and Friava to defend against peril.

The Raven Queen clears her throat harshly. "My children have hounded me to keep your life, Marie," she says. "I have to admit, I nearly gave in to the temptation to show the others what happens when someone goes against me—even someone I stand to gain something from." She brings her hands together on the table; Cloak studies the interlacing of her fingers like a beaten child. "I still wish to make an example of you, Marie, but in life. Not meaningless death."

I hold my breath and my stare. Elation bubbles in my chest in the form of rapid, shallow inhalations. I bite down on my tongue to keep down the grin that results from her words. I won't die.

"If you wish to have it, I have created an official position for you. A Luminary position for Rivian," she goes on. "Choose to accept this, and you keep your life. Deny—and I see no purpose other than a public execution."

"I accept," I blurt before hearing what she has in mind. Aela's head shoots up at that, her brows pushing together. Without her telling me through ways of a disappointed frown, I know my own stupidity. We crave life in our own way. We avoid death around every corner and accept deals that prevent it. "Whatever it is, I accept this position."

"Great." She forces a smile that I know is faked. "You will work alongside the Panjandrum Corps and keep track of Luminaries in Rivian. Using the tether within you to find and identify them, you will bring them to me so I can handle their lives."

"I don't wish to kill anyone."

"I refuse her working with the Panjandrum Corps," Cloak mutters coldly next to his mother. Her head snaps over to him, but that's the only attention she shows besides a deep sigh through her nose. Careful hours have gone into this room, and if not for Mutes's obvious fidgeting at my side, I would think them to be all moments that she used to her advantage.

Mutes and Friava were locked in here with her. They know of her highest moments and fear the lowest. At least the room appears untouched; Luminaries can veil destruction with a snap of their fingers.

I try to ignore the hurt in my chest. Cloak still won't look at me; he burns holes into the side of his mother's head to grasp her attention. She is more focused on her order and my protests. I realize I won't accept to all of her terms; I won't kill Luminaries if she demands they be hunted down by Cloak's men and brought back to the palace. I'll be the example that brings back the examples.

"The Panjandrum Corps is heading in a new direction," she reveals, making a steeple of her fingers in front of her nose. "They won't hunt Luminaries as they did before, instead they'll be identified through your abilities. Once identified, they must pledge their services to their queen."

"And if they don't?" I question.

Her red mouth turns down. "They will lose their lives."

Cloak taps a finger on the table. That is where he comes in. The original goal of his forces was to identify Luminaries by analyzing trends and oddities in one's routine. If they were discovered to be the magical entities his mother feared, he killed them without question. Or a member of his forces did. Magic had no place in Rivian, but with this new wave, Luminaries will serve a purpose.

A thoughtless part of me hopes a twisting change such as this will give more Luminaires a chance. A life of service is better than death by iron blade.

I know Cloak. More importantly, I know his doubts, secrets, and lack of desire for killing. He'll come into play more often than Millicent believes; these Luminaries won't interlock their arms with ours and jump at the chance to join her forces to protect Rivian from another of her sister's coercions. Wyetta is the reason they're in danger, to begin with. If not for her, they won't have to worry about serving as an unstoppable force.

My eyebrows crumple in disapproval. "It will be extremely difficult to find Luminaries that are willing to give themselves up for a cause they don't agree with," I infer. "They won't act keenly with such a change."

Millicent leans back in her woven chair of spindled wood. The backrest creaks against her weight. A candle resting on a stone mantle behind her drips a new stream of wax down the wall; I stare at that instead of her tight-lipped frown. "My sister's unexpected arrival sparked a flame of necessary change. Her forces are stronger than I originally thought, even if her soldiers are made from ash." She examines her sharpened fingernails and continues, "While creating a plan that takes down my sister in the Void, we must look for ways of advancement with a Luminary army."

"That army will originate from the innocents she converted," Gustus intercepts. It's strange to see him sitting alone at these meetings, without Theo at his side. They always link when discussing important matters. And I have strong reason to believe the people gathered in the room are the ones opposed to my death, so why can't Theo be here?

Cloak hasn't risen his head since his mother said my new position involves closely working together in the Panjandrum Corps.

"That is correct." His mother gives a terse shake of her head. "Wyetta created these Luminaries to frighten me, to overrun my land with magic I can't control. Instead of ridding Rivian of saplings of use, I will bring them to me. Blossom that young advantage into growth to use against her."

"We can go about this without Marie." I'm not surprised to hear a bite of icy venom surrounding my name when it leaves Cloak's lips. "There are more important things to do than tracking down all the Luminaries; Wyetta may return quicker than you believe, and if that wall is not constructed, she'll stroll right in without a second of warning." Cloak looks to his mother, only his mother. "We only have so long before that happens."

"You will have to deal with this, my son. You got along in the past; you can do it again."

Cloak looks at me then, for the first time since I arrived. I don't recognize the hate in his eyes and the determination dancing on the tip of his tongue. "I make no promises. My forces won't take kindly to a Luminary in their midst," he threatens.

The Raven Queen waves her son off, but I am not so nonchalant. My blood chills inside my veins. That is not the Cloak I recognize, the gentle giant that promised his protection during Claiming's Eve, that made the stupid decision to kill Rylan when he believed that was what I wanted. Everyone has told me that anger subsides and burdens lift once they gain enough air but I don't see Cloak forgiving me for what I have done. For lying to him.

My desperation to have him back shrivels to dust. Every threat is such, even from someone I care deeply for.

"What of Marie's form?" Aela asks. "How must she display herself?"

I roll my eyes.

"Her second form could be a statement piece." I hear Gustus's voice beyond the pounding in my ears. "An example, of sorts."

Enough of that word, I think. The remarks materialize in my head before I can stop them. I don't know how many things I'm an example for; the list seems to keep growing.

"A splendid idea," Millicent gawks. She claps her hands together, and the haze in my head clears. Gustus's intentions are not to agree with anything his family claims. More than anyone else sitting at this table, he understands what I go through daily to keep my power from seeping through the cracks of my hold. With my Luminary form out in the open, I will have no reason to put in the effort of keeping it hidden. Pressure won't weigh on my shoulders. "With her second form, it's obvious she's a Luminary. The familiarization might help other Luminaries sway in the direction of joining Rivian's forces."

As if they'll have a choice. Queens aren't capable of hiding their desperation in search of something, especially an army. These Luminaries won't have a choice to join her forces. Either join or die.

My nerves get the best of me, and my normally still knee bounces underneath the table. Mutes looks towards me, smiling sheepishly. Even without a word shared, I recognize the comfort in that smile. I look back to Millicent while she scribbles out the decree of my joining the Panjandrum Corps.

He's already looking at me. At Mutes, rather. Cloak's nostrils flare. But the faintest hint of sadness resides in his eyes when he silently questions us. Misery or regret. It disappears from his face in a flash, and his stony expression doesn't change. I force myself to look away, back to the wooden table and the corner of the tattered map with small pins pressed into the Void. A single red marker signifies the Void Palace, where Wyetta spends her years. High in the mountains and protected by legions outside her doorstep.

The room is silent for a moment. Then, a squeak of a voice comes from beyond Mutes's shoulder. I think it to be a mouse. Setsuko turns her head towards me. "What would you prefer, Marie?" she asks in a cracked whisper. "What form would make you the happiest?"

I didn't expect to receive this amount of attention. Even Cloak looks up to watch my expression and answer. I fight the urge to squirm and sit up straighter. "My Luminary form feels more like myself. I don't see the normal features I was born with being the woman I have grown to be."

My voice is steady and confident until Cloak barks a laugh. The wavelengths of my sureness ripple.

"I refuse to believe that," he says.

"That's the same with your nickname. You were born as Jett but deemed yourself Cloak because of what you did to get yourself here," I snap. A devilish part of me refuses to regret those words.

His head snaps around, towards me, and he bares his fangs. They glisten against the candlelight. The bridge of his nose scrunches up like that of a growling wolf. Mutes's hand tightens on the edge of the table, the other going to my knee to warn me of saying anything else. Cloak is tuned in to every movement he makes, and the queen's lover receives a similar silent threat.

"I will not stand for your differences," Millicent bellows. Black thorns shoot from her fingertips and lodge into the floor. The spindled vines are as strong as metal and imbed just as deep. She wraps her hands around them, chest heaving. "You must get along. Otherwise, I will banish you from royalty, Cloak. And I will take Marie's life."

Cloak thumps against the back of his chair and picks at his fingernails underneath the table. He keeps his mouth shut for both our sakes. I debate wondering if he's choosing to protect me instead of handing over the one person who knows of his troubles. Some part of him, even the foolish part, must still care for me. Perhaps my hopes are too high for the future of our friendship.

Once I sign my name at the bottom of the queen's contract, the meeting is over. We're dismissed, and Cloak is the first person to shove out of his chair and depart from the room faster than I can call his name. I need to talk to him, whether now or later. I'll have enough time while strolling around with the Panjandrum Corps against my will.

Mutes, sensing my sorrow, walks me back to my chambers. He's there when I stand in front of the mirror and transform myself into the person I am meant to be. I take in my green eyes one last time, and he does too. With a quick rise and fall of my chest, she's gone. Replaced by the nightmare Rivian fears.