“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea what’s going on,” Bree growls, face-to-face with Cal. To his credit, Cal barely bats an eye at him.

“Nothing’s going on,” he says coolly, meeting Bree’s glare with equal fire in his eyes. “Mare chose to work for the palace. She signed a contract for a year of service, and that’s it.”

With a grunt, Bree backs away. “I liked the Warren boy better,” he grumbles.

“Stop being a child, Bree,” I snap. My mom flinches at my harsh voice, like she’s forgotten what I sound like after only three weeks. Strangely, her eyes swim with tears. She’s forgetting you. That’s why she wants you to stay. So she doesn’t forget.

“Mom, don’t cry,” I say, stepping forward to hug her. She feels so thin in my arms, thinner than I remember. Or maybe I just never noticed how frail she’s become.

“It’s not just you, dear, it’s—” She looks away from me, to Dad. There’s a pain in her eyes, a pain I don’t understand. The others can’t bear to look at her. Even Dad stares at his useless feet. A grim weight settles on the house.

And then I realize what’s going on, what they’re trying to protect me from.

My voice shakes when I speak, asking a question I don’t want to know the answer to. “Where’s Shade?”

Mom crumples in on herself, barely making it to a chair at the kitchen table before she devolves into sobs. Bree and Tramy can’t bear to watch, both turning away. Gisa doesn’t move, staring at the floor like she wants to drown in it. No one speaks, leaving only the sound of my mother’s tears and my father’s labored breathing to fill the hole my brother once occupied. My brother, my closest brother.

I fall backward, almost missing a step in my anguish, but Cal steadies me. I wish he wouldn’t. I want to fall down, to feel something hard and real so the pain in my head won’t hurt so badly. My hand strays to my ear, grazing over the three stones I hold so dearly. The third, Shade’s stone, feels cold against my skin.

“We didn’t want to tell you in a letter,” Gisa whispers, picking at her splint. “He died before the discharge came.”

The urge to electrify something, to pour my rage and sorrow into a single bolt of biting power, has never felt so strong. Control it, I tell myself. I can’t believe I was worried about Cal burning the house down; lightning can destroy as easily as flame.

Gisa fights tears, forcing herself to say the words. “He tried to run away. He was executed.”

My legs give way so quickly even Cal doesn’t have a chance to catch me. I can’t hear, I can’t see, I can only feel. Sorrow, shock, pain, the whole world spinning around me. The lightbulbs buzz with electricity, screaming at me so loudly I think my head might split. The fridge crackles in the corner, its old, bleeding battery pulsing like a dying heart. They taunt me, tease me, trying to make me crack. But I won’t. I won’t.

“Mare,” Cal breathes in my ear, his arms warm around me, but he might as well be talking to me from across an ocean. “Mare!”

I heave a painful gasp, trying to catch my breath. My cheeks feel wet, though I don’t remember crying. Executed. My blood boils under my skin. It’s a lie. He didn’t run. He was in the Guard. And they found out. They killed him for it. They murdered him.

I have never known anger like this. Not when the boys left, not when Kilorn came to me. Not even when they broke Gisa’s hand.

An earsplitting whine screeches through the house, as the fridge, the lightbulbs, and the wiring in the walls kick into high gear. Electricity hums, making me feel alive and angry and dangerous. Now I’m creating the energy, pushing my own strength through the house just like Julian taught me.

Cal yells, shaking me, trying to get through somehow. But he can’t. The power is in me and I don’t want to let go. It feels better than pain.

Glass rains down on us as the lightbulbs explode, popping like corn in a skillet. Pop pop pop. It almost drowns out Mom’s scream.

Someone pulls me to my feet with rough strength. Their hands go to my face, holding me still as they speak. Not to comfort me, not to empathize, but to snap me out of it. I would know that voice anywhere.

“Mare, pull yourself together!”

I look up to see clear green eyes and a face full of worry.

“Kilorn.”

“Knew you’d stumble back eventually,” he mumbles. “Kept an eye out.”

His hands are rough against my skin, but calming. He brings me back to reality, to a world where my brother is dead. The last surviving lightbulb swings above us, barely illuminating the room and my stunned family.