Purple-white sparks dance around my hands, growing weaker by the moment, but plain as day. My lightning. I won’t be able to lie my way out of this one.

Kilorn pulls me to a chair, his face a storm cloud of confusion. The others only stare, and with a pang of sadness, I realize they’re afraid. But Kilorn isn’t afraid at all—he’s angry.

“What did they do to you?” he rumbles, his hands inches from mine. The sparks fade away entirely, leaving just skin and shaking fingers.

“They didn’t do anything.” I wish this was their fault. I wish I could blame this on someone else. I look over Kilorn’s head, meeting Cal’s eyes. Something releases in him and he nods, communicating without words. I don’t have to lie about this.

“This is what I am.”

Kilorn’s frown deepens. “Are you one of them?” I’ve never heard so much anger, so much disgust, forced into a single sentence. It makes me feel like dying. “Are you?”

Mom recovers first and, without a glimmer of fear, takes my hand. “Mare is my daughter, Kilorn,” she says, fixing him with a frightening stare I didn’t know she could muster. “We all know that.”

My family murmurs in agreement, rallying to my side, but Kilorn remains unconvinced. He stares at me like I’m a stranger, like we haven’t known each other all our lives.

“Give me a knife and I’ll settle this right now,” I say, glaring back at him. “I’ll show you what color I bleed.”

This calms him a bit and he pulls back. “I just—I don’t understand.”

That makes two of us.

“I think I’m with Kilorn on this one. We know who you are, Mare, but—” Bree stumbles, searching for the right thing to say. He’s never been one for words. “How?”

I barely know what to say, but I do my best to explain. Again, I’m painfully aware of Cal standing over me, always listening, so I leave out the Guard and Julian’s findings, to lay out the last three weeks as plainly as possible. Pretending to be Silver, being betrothed to a prince, learning to control myself—it sounds preposterous, but they listen intently.

“We don’t know how or why, just that this is,” I finish, holding out my other hand. I don’t miss Tramy flinch away. “We might never know what this means.”

Mom’s hand tightens on mine in a display of support. The small comfort does wonders for me. I’m still angry, still devastatingly sad, but the need to destroy something fades. I’m gaining back some semblance of control, enough to keep myself in check.

“I think it’s a miracle,” she murmurs, forcing a smile for my sake. “We’ve always wanted better for you and now, we’re getting it. Bree and Tramy are safe, Gisa won’t have to worry, we can live happy, and you”—her watery eyes meet mine—“you, my dear, will be someone special. What more can a mother ask?”

I wish her words were true but I nod anyway, smiling for my mother and my family. I’m getting better at lying and they seem to believe me. But not Kilorn. He still seethes, trying to hold back another outburst.

“What’s he like, the prince?” Mom prods. “Maven?”

Dangerous ground. I can feel Cal listening, waiting to hear what I have to say about his younger brother. What can I say? That he’s kind? That I’m beginning to like him? That I still don’t know if I can trust him? Or worse, that I can never trust anyone again? “He’s not what I expected.”

Gisa notes my discomfort and turns toward Cal. “So who’s this, your bodyguard?” she says, changing the subject with the slightest wink.

“I am,” Cal says, answering for me. He knows I don’t want to lie to my family, not more than I have to. “And I’m sorry, but we have to be going soon.”

His words are like a twisting knife, but I must obey them. “Yes.”

Mom stands with me, holding on to my hand so tightly I’m afraid it might break. “We won’t say anything, of course.”

“Not a word,” Dad agrees. My siblings nod as well, swearing to be silent.

But Kilorn’s face falls into a dark scowl. For some reason, he’s become so angry and I can’t for the life of me say why. But I’m angry too. Shade’s death still weighs on me like a terrible stone. “Kilorn?”

“Yeah, I won’t talk,” he spits. Before I can stop him, he gets up from his chair and sweeps out in a whirlwind that spins the air. The door slams behind him, shaking the walls. I’m used to Kilorn’s emotions, his rare moments of despair, but this rage is something new from him. I don’t know how to deal with it.

My sister’s touch brings me back, reminding me that this is goodbye. “This is a gift,” she whispers in my ear. “Don’t waste it.”

“You’ll come back, won’t you?” Bree says, and Gisa pulls away. For the first time since he left for war, I see fear in his eyes. “You’re a princess now, you get to make the rules.”

I wish.

Cal and I exchange glances, communicating without words. I can tell by the tight set of his mouth and the darkness in his eyes what my answer should be.

“I’ll try,” I whisper, my voice breaking. One more lie can’t hurt.

When we reach the edge of the Stilts, Gisa’s good-bye still haunts me. There was no blame in her eyes, even though I’ve taken everything from her. Her last words echo on the wind, drowning out everything else. Don’t waste it.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Cal blurts out. “I didn’t know he—”

“—was already dead?” Executed for desertion. Another lie. The rage rises again, and I don’t even want to control it. But what can I do about it? What can I do to avenge my brother, or even try to save the others?

Don’t waste it.

“I need to make one more stop.” Before Cal can protest, I put on my best smile. “It won’t take long at all, I promise.”

To my surprise, he nods slowly in the dark.

“A job at the Hall, that’s very prestigious.” Will chortles as I take a seat inside his wagon. The old blue candle still burns, casting shifting light around us. As I suspected, Farley is long gone.

When I’m sure the door and windows are shut, I drop my voice. “I’m not working there, Will. They—”

To my surprise, Will waves a hand at me. “Oh, I know all that. Tea?”

“Uh, no.” My words shake with shock. “How did you—?”

“The royal monkeys chose a queen this past week, of course they had to broadcast it in the Silver cities,” a voice says from behind a curtain. The figure steps out, revealing not Farley but what looks like a beanpole in human form. His head scrapes the ceiling, making him duck awkwardly. His crimson hair is long, matching the red sash draped across his body from shoulder to hip. It’s clasped with the same sun badge Farley wore in her broadcast. And I don’t miss the gun belt around his waist, full of shiny bullets and a pair of pistols. He’s Scarlet Guard too.

“You’ve been all over the Silver screens, Lady Titanos.” He says my title like a curse. “You and that Samos girl. Tell me, is she as unpleasant as she looks?”