The cold, quiet parlor room of the royal family's vacation home is quickly being overcome by honey tea brewing in the kitchen and a crackling log burning in the fireplace. While I took a bath and cleaned the stench of the journey off my body, finally granting myself a look at the brand down my spine, Aela stripped the furniture of white sheets and dug out the small amount of food stored in white-painted cabinets.

As scratchy as the velvet fabric is of the chaise I sit on, the shirt cutting into my throat is worse. I tug at the funnel collar once more, but the fabric grabs hold of my skin and digs tiny needles into my already sensitive flesh. This will have to do. Aela found it stuffed towards the back of an armoire—the only shirt that could fit my frame. A moment after I caught the shirt, she threw a pair of undergarments and trousers into my outstretched arms as well. Everything itches. Do they not have fine fabrics here, or do they fear someone will invade the vacation home and take what they have left behind?

Besides the groundskeepers, no one is here. At the sight of our arrival, they screamed and scurried into their cabins to the east and west of the grounds. Theo urged them out by reassuring we meant no harm. They hadn't heard the news yet, and as soon as they discovered the truth, they immediately got to preparing tea and helping Aela wipe off the visible layers of dust.

Unlike the palace in Exole, the vacation home doesn't have the Raven Queen stapled over every surface. In fact, it looks as though not a single Terravale has left their mark on this place. The deep reds and golds of blankets and pillows and rugs belong to King Arithmud and the servants that tended to him. With this location being so far away from the palace, Millicent didn't waste a moment of her days refurbishing and tearing apart what previous leaders left behind.

I sit uncomfortably on the edge of the chaise, a steaming cup of honey tea gripped tight in my fingers. The small, porcelain plate dotted with swans waits on the glass low table in front of me. Aela has yet to pull the cloth off it, but the stain of a book having previously held the residence of the center of the table creates a nice break in an overly dominant color.

Unfortunately, I'm not the only one in the room. The vacation home is vast and empty, filled with twisting hallways and winding staircases up to small towers and attics, yet Makeda chose the parlor room once she saw I was already settling down and brushing off dust from one of the frayed pillows. Rats will accompany us tonight if we make it that far without being found out.

In front of a large wall of windows, golden light glows around the back of Makeda's head, shining a focus on every hair out of place. Like me, she has taken a bath and opted for the only spare clothes she can find. A nightgown that doesn't flatter her thin figure in the slightest. She pulls on the bishop sleeves cinching tight around her wrists and stares at the floor. An ink stain breaks through the off-white fabric near her breast.

We haven't said a single word to each other. When she sat down, she looked like she might want to initiate a conversation with a forced, weak smile, but opted for silence instead. The cushioned bench she sits on almost gave way underneath her when she eased herself down, and if it wasn't for that, she might be more inclined to spare a word or two. The worst of our silence is the constant glances she keeps stealing in my direction.

Her eyes falling on me makes my body tense on instinct, like she's freezing me to the bone. I'm curious about what she sees, what she thinks of me. What I might stand to gain by stepping between her and Cloak. That is, if she cares about him as she's supposed to. Ordered on by the Raven Queen and her parents back home. I don't have the courage to ask what she's so intrigued by, or if she likes what she's seeing from the strange Luminary with a lightning brand streaking down her spine and ending sharply near her ass.

The bolt is not pretty. I twisted my body in front of the golden mirror above the washbasin to grant a somewhat decent look at what the Void Queen did to me. I lifted my white hair to find the origin of the brand but lost hope above the base of my hairline. The worst of it is the tips that reach outwards, nearly wrapping around to my front and stopping abruptly in a sharpened point—shaped like a brand that will one day become a scar. I'm not lucky enough to have it fade; no Luminary magic can heal it, either. As the first Luminary in all of Rivian, the Void Queen's dark power isn't so easily persuaded to hand over control. This is what I must live with for the rest of my life. Marked by the Fulgur Turrim and used as a sacrifice in the Terravale game.

I look down at my teacup and grimace at the glob of honey sinking towards the bottom. I wanted nothing to drink other than water. A young groundskeeper shoved the teacup into my hands and scurried back into the kitchens, catching the end of her apron on a chipped piece of doorframe in a mad dash to escape company. Being unprepared rips clothes and sanity of those that weren't expecting to see their queen. We dropped a bigger bomb than Setsuko's.

I set the teacup on the table and brush my hands on my trousers.

Previous calluses from life in Gudgeon Docks catch on the rough fabric and scratch mercilessly. Makeda raises her eyes to me once more, noticing the sound, and I gather the courage to look at her. As soon as I do, shuffling footsteps move across the rug in the open entryway leading to the kitchens and spirals of hallways beyond. Underneath the red and gold rug decorated in roses and vines—faded from so many years of being trounced on by ignoring housekeepers—floorboards moan against Cloak's weight.

He looks between the two of us, his green stare darting awkwardly from one face to the next. Both women he owes an apology to, and only one he must give a ring to. We haven't forced him to choose a side, there isn't one to pick as we're not competitors, but I feel the weight of a decision in the room. Does he sit next to me, or Makeda? Near the windows, or on the vacant side of the chaise?

I sense reluctance. A false grin touches his lips and is the gateway to his decision. The cushion of the chaise gives way underneath his weight, and I squirm relentlessly to remain where I am and not sink into the divot he creates just by resting himself atop something that was probably crafted long before he was born.

I shouldn't be relieved that he chose to sit next to me instead of her. Not like she gave him the option, the bench she sits on is no larger than a footrest. I won't be surprised if King Arithmud's smelly feet stick to the velvet to this day.

Cloak leans forward and pulls boots over his wool socks. "How are you doing?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder at me. His voice is much too loud in the silence. I wish a servant would scurry into the room and adjust the log on the fire. "If the tea isn't to your liking, I can have them make something else."

So he didn't ignore the full cup on the table, then. He still hasn't bothered to ask about Makeda and whether she's cared for. Perhaps he really doesn't want to marry her, let alone have anything to do with a possible friendship.

I scratch at my temple to busy my shaking hands. The Void Queen could burst through the door across the room at any moment. The majority of it is made from glass. "I'm fine, I actually—"

"I don't know what to do!" Millicent's voice shrieks from the kitchens and carries into the parlor, following her swift, bare footsteps sweeping silently over the rug. She struts into the room, the skirt of a black dress trailing just past her knees, the sleeves wrapping tightly around her wrists. Cloak frowns at her obvious dramatics. She whirls to us, an untamed fire in her deep-set, purple eyes. "I should've acted on this long ago. I shouldn't have waited for my sister to go through with a plan I thought was too big for her small head!"

"Your forces aren't strong enough yet," I remind her. "You don't have the time, nor the strength to go against your sister. I saw what she has at the Void Palace—hundreds of students are training to join her one day. If you acted on this, you would've sent every able-bodied man to their grave."

"All Wyetta wanted was to negotiate a deal with you." Cloak hammers another nail in her guilt-riddled coffin.

She plants her hands on her hips and stares him down. Further input isn't welcome, but he offers it anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Makeda stare at her lap instead of the angered, fuming queen close to pacing a hole in the floor. "If you would have listened from the start—"

"That isn't necessarily true." He raises his eyebrows at me, as does his mother. I hate speaking in front of them, their intimidation makes me want to curl into a ball. "What I mean is that she could've had any number of things in mind. In that last moment, she acted out of turn and went against me and her forces. It's possible she would've turned against you, too."

If her manicured hair wasn't a mess before, it is when she runs her fingers through it and tugs on the knots plaguing the bottom layer. Strips of black hang from her nails. I grimace at the insanity unfolding before our eyes.

"I never should've given her a chance all those years ago," Millicent goes on. She stops in front of the fireplace and rests her elbow on the mantle, propping the heel of her palm on the side of her head.

What is she talking about? I flip through the information in my brain, all the books I spent reading when Cloak was still adjusting to my presence in the palace. Wyetta came back in search of her sister's love, and Millicent being the sister that evolved on second chances, didn't kill her when she heard of the beginnings of Luminaries and the Void.

"When she came back after being forced into hiding?" I blurt. She nods solemnly, her eyes squeezed shut. This isn't information I should know, yet everyone knows I'm a Luminary now. I don't need to hide all the research I have done. "She came back and told you she was transforming people into Luminaries."

A line forms between Cloak's brows. He asks that silent question. How do you know this?

I'll answer that another time.

"I was foolish to see through her changes, the life she was forming. I didn't recognize her destructive tendencies enough to know that she needed to die."

"You didn't see this coming at all?" Cloak questions.

His mother turns to him, not to yell or point towards the door firmly with a hissed order to get out. Like a mother to her true child, her face softens, and she shakes her head. For a flash of a second, she's not queen of Rivian. Not the Luminary this kingdom fears, not the woman that just lost her throne to her sister. She's just Millicent Terravale, a young girl trying to obey her father's wishes.

She takes a breath and smooths out the front of her dress. A trail of dust follows her hand, catching on the silk folds. "Wyetta always acted out of reason. She was never perfect, never went through with anything. For someone that had so many aspirations, she couldn't finish them. I suppose I never took her seriously, after all, what woman would try to overrule a kingdom that wasn't previously hers?"

"Both of you, actually." An awkward laugh croaks from my throat. My eyes dart in all directions but avoid Makeda. "She did it first, then you. Now her, again."

"No need to state the obvious, Marie," she grumbles and resumes pacing.

Aela is next to come into the room. She slumps on one of the armchairs and slouches, folding her hands together over a protruding gut. "Wyetta should've died long ago," she agrees without having any prior knowledge of our conversation. "If it were me, and I was queen, I wouldn't have given her the freedom she received in the Void. She didn't deserve it."

An obvious jab at her mother's leadership. This isn't the time for it; when Millicent is teetering on the edge of self-destruction and will take us all down with her. Aela is right; allowing Wyetta to live in the Void without paying any price led to this moment. Us running for our lives and hiding away until we can figure out a plan.

"I don't need your input, daughter," Millicent seethes as Theo trounces into the room, moving as silently as a snake to take a chair near the sofa. Across the room from anyone that might think of comforting him. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffed. "I don't need anyone's input. I know what I did wrong, and I will figure out what I need to do to fix it."

"Fix it?" Aela barks a harsh laugh. "You can't fix losing a throne. Face it, Wyetta bested you and you lost the title of queen. She'll take it and force us all to be her magic puppets. Her Magia." Her mouth curdles down at the word, neck rolling in annoyance.

"Being a Luminary isn't so bad, Aela. Maybe if you thought of us as something other than a threat—"

"You brainwashed us into believing nothing else!" Aela's soft grey hand thrusts in my direction. "Marie hid from you because of your strict order to kill every Luminary willing to agree to your terms of controlled magic. You lied to them, killed them, and they went into hiding. There are more out there, Luminaries you could have used, but they don't trust you."

"Luminaries shouldn't have lost their lives for so many years. We could have gathered forces from the start," Theo grumbles softly from the other side of the room.

Cloak nods in agreement. I bite down on my tongue to avoid saying he had a part in taking these lives, he could have stopped it. We're focusing on wrapping ropes around Millicent, not him. Besides, he's aware of his wrongdoings.

Theo stares down his mother-in-law without regard for the power hiding, waiting to strike. "This is your fault. Now the throne belongs to Wyetta and the kingdom will suffer because of it. You're a failure."

Pitch elves can't lie. But they can choose their words carefully. Theo throws all caution out the window and allows the sitting queen to bathe in her fury. An unstoppable rage he built with a few choice words.

Her mouth curls into a razor-sharp sneer, the corner of her lips pulling. "You need to learn to—" She doesn't finish her sentence. She doesn't need to. Flames shoot from her fists, wrapping around her freshly soaped skin, and she storms across the room to wrap her hands around his throat.

Theo welcomes the contact. He's numb. He thinks he won't feel the pain. I'm the only Luminary in the room, and my body acts before my mind can, leaping from the seat and throwing out a hand to craft a shield between them.

Millicent stops abruptly as the shield shoots from the ground up, constructed of my soft blue energy manifestation. During all my training classes with Zikkora, the shield glowed stronger, brighter, and thicker. If Millicent wanted to, she could reach right through with minimal effort and still stake her claim on Theo's perfect skin. My power remains weak and troubled, scared to reveal itself after what a Terravale did to scar its confidence.

What I see, what everyone sees, is what I have. A spit of magic with nothing left. Not until I get my full strength and self-assurance back.

"Don't," I growl, surprised by the surge of anger in my voice.

She steps back, smirking at me. I see the truth in her eyes, hear the proclamation as clear as words. What happened to me during our month apart gave me the ability to stand for myself and others. An aptitude I didn't have before I left.

The room silences. They're not staring at their mother or me. Not my body, anyway. Everyone has their eyes trained on the shield I have crafted, the buzzing magic glowing in the center of the room and reflecting in their pupils. I realize they have seen nothing other than my ice and healing powers from before I left; the shield is new. Even their mother doesn't use something so simple to make a point, but this is all I have.

Cloak blinks himself into a haze. A silver-blue sheen reflects in the whites of his eyes. His throat bobs up and down. Magic isn't just a solid form, it curdles and twists with life, moving in its own right to protect and defend against a threat. It might not be at its strongest point; the shield puts up a brave face.

On the other hand, Makeda is leaning back to avoid it. Her stare is wide and unfocused, more fearful than the rest. I nearly consider forcing my power back into my pocket if it's not for the sudden remembrance that I don't have to hide it anymore, especially not around Millicent. She lost her throne; she gave into Wyetta killing me. She's as much to blame as her sister is. I clench my free hand into a fist to avoid slamming that shield directly into her nose.

Still smirking, Millicent backs off and exposes her hands. The flames curling around her fists wink out. Without another word or a warning that she'll kill me in my sleep tonight, she takes one of the side halls to the head chambers, the largest room with the most amenities for the leader of whoever is staying in the vacation home. Does that mean I won? Her smirk said otherwise.

Theo is the second person to stand. As he passes me, sliding past the shield without care, he grumbles, "I don't need protection."

I don't register embarrassment until I feel prickling heat under my arms. His rushing wind passes by me and I wink out my power, leaving only the four of us in the room. They're not adjusted to my abilities yet, and I worry they never will be. A nonexistent hum lingers from the shield until Aela groans, stretching and popping her joints.

"I might as well get drunk while I'm here," she says, sauntering to the bookshelf crammed behind a set of chairs to pick up a dusty, corked bottle. Golden liquid sloshes on the inside. "After all, there isn't anything else to do."

Aela pops the cork and tips her head back to guzzle the ancient alcohol, ignoring the stream that trails from the corner of her mouth and slides down her neck.

"I agree," Makeda sighs. She raises herself from the stool and follows Aela into the kitchens, taking the bottle from her hands. When she throws a smirk over her shoulder at me, I redden. She hasn't shown a sliver of confidence, nor the desire to drink. Maybe Aela brings it out of her. Either way, they could use some relief from the stress.

Cloak and I are the only two left in the room. He rubs his hands together, staring at the floor. I'm still standing from making my proclamation to defend Theo. A service he denied.

"I guess that's my cue to go to bed," I sigh, massaging the sore muscles in the back of my neck. I don't register the rough bump of the lightning brand.

"I'll help you find a room to stay in," Cloak offers. Aela's cackle travels from the next room and he leans in closer, lowering his voice. "Really, I just want to get away from what is about to happen in that room. If someone attacks, two drunk women are our first line of defense."

I'm too exhausted to laugh, but the sound comes out anyway. I haven't allowed myself to think much about the Void Queen finding us. My falter in focus could be the death of us all. We didn't choose a difficult hiding place; Hegemonize would've been smarter than this. The royal family's vacation home is desolate in The Escape and the only sign of life besides that village to the east.

We put a target on our backs by coming here. Until we can figure out a plan, my body needs rest. Though I have a strong feeling the two won't coincide.