Elan threw himself forward, narrowly missing a brick that had come dislodged from above, and landed on Tal. He scrambled, reaching for Tal’s knife hand, while Tal fought back against Elan to carry out the order he’d been given. Jae poured more and more magic into the floor and ceiling as Elan wrestled with Tal. Elthis backed away, but the floor buckled, bricks crashed down, and he staggered and fell. He landed badly on a pile of rubble, his head slamming into one of the bricks. A spray of blood coated the floor, bright red that turned dark where it hit the ground.

Jae reached her magic toward the bricks above Elthis, ready to end him, but Shirrad shrieked, “Stop this! Tal, listen to me! I order you to be still!” Tal’s body convulsed under Elan’s, and Shirrad yelled, “I am the highest authority at Aredann now, and you will stop!”

Tal’s body jerked again, trying to throw Elan off, and Elan grunted as he struggled to keep his hold on Tal. Then, remarkably, Tal fell still. His chest was heaving, but he leaned back against the shaking floor, and Jae let the room’s trembling dwindle and die. She didn’t know if what Shirrad had said was really true—it was if Elthis was dead, but he was only unconscious. Maybe that was enough, or maybe Tal had just believed her enough that the Curse had, too, but either way, Jae was grateful.

Elan scrambled off Tal and landed on his knees among the downed bricks, hands pressed to a dark spot on his chest. Jae ran over to them and knelt next to Tal. She took his hand, and he stared at her, dropped the knife, and let her drag him up into her arms.

Shirrad crouched next to Elthis and pressed a hand to his chest. A moment later she said, “He’s alive. You need to go now. Do you understand that, Tal? I order you to go with your sister into the desert.”

Tal nodded.

“Shirrad—” Elan started, but she cut him off.

“They were gathering supplies. Take what you can and go. Jae, I know you can save Aredann. I know you can.” She stared at Jae, her eyes wide white saucers in the dark room. “I’ve given you your brother, and I will give you anything else in my power if you protect this place. Please. It’s your home, too.”

Jae swallowed. She didn’t owe Shirrad anything at all—Shirrad was one of them. Lady Shirrad had only been able to help Tal because she was one of them—

“Do you know what Elthis will do to you for helping us?” Elan asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Shirrad said. “Aredann is my home, and I won’t abandon it. Not if there’s even a chance to save it.”

“Good,” Jae said, and for the first time, she met Shirrad’s gaze and held it. “Elthis is a liar. The Highest are all liars. They didn’t craft the Well, and they can’t control it. They never, ever could.”

Shirrad looked from Elthis to Jae, and nodded. “But you can. Please. Go now, before—before anything else can stop you.”

Jae hesitated, gaze falling on Elthis’s unconscious form. This was her chance. She could finish what she’d started, kill Elthis now while he was helpless, and strike down anyone who challenged her. She could find the Well and make it her own, take revenge for her ancestors and all the generations since, force the Avowed into the same servitude the Closest had known. She could do anything, anything with her power.

But she looked at Tal, and remembered his unease with how she’d killed Rannith, and how scared Firran had been, and how Gali had still served Jae meals, even knowing she was going to be abandoned. Jae had so much power, and the very first thing she’d done with her freedom was kill.

But she’d grown flowers, too.

She could do anything.

Jae stood, offered Tal a hand up, and looked at Lady Shirrad. “We’ll find the Well, and I’ll save Aredann. When Elthis wakes, warn him that I will return. And if he has harmed any Closest here, I will kill him. I think he will believe me, this time.”

Shirrad nodded, and when Jae looked at Elan and Tal, they both did, too.

“We have to go now,” Elan said. “Hurry.”

Jae started for the hallway, Tal at her heels, but despite his words, Elan didn’t move. He stared down at the figure of his father for a long moment, then up at Jae. Then he squared his shoulders, walked away from the blood, and followed her out into the night.

“I wonder if they came after us,” Tal said.

Elan looked back at the expanse of sand and scrub, even that slight stretch pulling at his wound, sending a pulse of pain through him. It was hard to make anything out through his mesh head covering, and with the moon having sunk to the horizon, but he didn’t see anyone.

They’d run just before midnight, grabbing all the supplies they could carry or load onto a groaning camel. Most of it was water: several jugs, plus large satchels strapped onto Tal’s and Elan’s backs, and individual water skins to drink from while they traveled. This far out in the desert, water was life. They’d also taken food, a low tent, a few changes of clothes, and supplies in case one of them got injured. That was all. They hadn’t even taken his father’s horses—they’d need too much water in the desert, especially considering even Jae didn’t know exactly how long the trek would be.

Dawn hovered at the edge of the sky. Elan sagged in place, catching his breath for a minute, just long enough for the night chill to raise bumps on his neck. He welcomed it, wishing there was a way to bundle it, hold it against his skin. He hadn’t told the others about the wound on his chest yet—they seemed to think Tal had gotten him with the knife, and he’d assured them he was fine. He’d wrapped bandages around his torso while they’d loaded the camel, so they hadn’t seen.

He hadn’t been stabbed. The brand on his chest had turned into a raw, fresh burn, searing his skin the moment his father had declared him disavowed. The initial flash of pain had only lasted a few seconds, but the wound remained. Every movement that had jostled his body had ached, until they’d walked so far that he’d gone entirely numb.

He nodded at Tal. “My father brought guards to keep the order as they abandon Aredann. He’ll probably send at least a few of them to look for us. He’ll have to.”

Jae looked over at him, the whites of her eyes all he could make out under her hood. She cocked her head a little.

“No one can raise a hand to the Highest and live,” Elan explained. “It ruins the order of things. And disavowing me…” He swallowed, throat tightening as he tried to explain. He fought to keep his voice steady, to ignore the betrayal that ached just as much as his chest. “Disavowing me would be humiliating for him, admitting he couldn’t even keep his own son in line. The Highest can’t afford weakness in their ranks, and between your magic, and me challenging him, and even Lady Shirrad…he’ll have to do something.”