“No other choice?” Ellery had always been so careful with the Council. She was through with being careful. “He died fighting for you! You and your wands, and your magic, andthisis how you want the country to remember him? This is his reward?”
“Ellery,” Glynn cut in, “we know how much you cared about him, but—”
“No! He’s a hero. You know he is. He deserves to be treated like one.”
“Our opinion of him doesn’t matter,” Sharpe said grimly. “If we tell Alderland the truth, well, he still lost, didn’t he? And you go from the country’s hero to its villain. It’s not pretty. It’s not nice. But the Order still has a duty to this nation, to rebuild from the brink of disaster.” He sighed, exhaling smoke. “And it’s not as though the boy’s around to cry over what they’re saying about him now.”
“So you used him when he was alive, and now you’ll use him for whatever story you need to spin after he’s dead?” Distress seethed in her. “That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? Every single Chosen One who’s died for Summer. How convenient that they never made it past their cataclysms.”
Glynn recoiled.
“You knew?” Sharpe asked.
“Oh, yeah, we figured that part out weeks ago! That everyone else who had our shitty job died! That you lied to us!”
“I wanted to tell you from the start,” Glynn said vehemently. “But youdidmake it out, Ellery. You survived your cataclysm. You—”
The door banged open, and a familiar figure stalked in. Immediately, Ellery felt a shocking, brutal chill.
“Hey, Ellery,” Kester said coolly. They looked just as at home in the Council’s conference room as they had in a Nordmere dive bar. In their hand was a wand wreathed in crackling blue veins, like lightning.
Kythion.
“K-Kester?” Ellery stammered. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, where else would I be? It’s a Council meeting. I’m kind of obligated to attend.” Ellery watched, astounded, as they pulled out a seat and lounged in it. She half-expected them to kick their feet up on the table.
“You’reon the Council?” she asked.
“We’ve had to make some changes,” Sharpe grumbled.
Julian hurried into the room a moment later, Demelza a step behind him. The magician starlet sank into the seat beside Julian, her eyes glassy, her blond hair limp. She stared at her lap as though she would rather be anywhere else. A staticky cold flared from the hilt at her hip. Although she did not draw her wand, Ellery recognized it, too: Eledrium.
Of course these three had been recruited for the Council. They might’ve been young, but they wielded the most powerful Winter wands aside from her own. The Dire Three.
“We were about to explain,” Glynn said. “We’ve re-formed the Council with the entire country’s best interest in mind. Sharpe and I will train each of our new members to take up their predecessor’s positions. Norwood will replace Mayes as our historian. Turner, as befits her background, will take on Seong’s responsibilities as head of Public Relations. And although the NDC is now defunct, Wright will oversee the other nature magicians as they transition into a more peaceful role. And perhaps prepare for the slim possibility that whatever resided within our Summer wands are not dead, but… changed.”
The room fell silent for a moment. Ellery considered the word none of them seemed willing to speak aloud.
Summerghasts.
Maybe Syarthis had gotten its way, after all.
“That makes sense,” Ellery said. “But what about me?”
“When you’re ready, we hope you’ll join us on the Council,” Glynn said. “Whatever it is you wish to do, we’ll find a position. Perhaps you could be in charge of student outreach like you once wanted. But we understand that you need some time to heal.”
“In the meantime, we’ve got a new role for you,” Sharpe said brusquely. “Alderland needs a happy, pretty face to reassure them that everything will be fine. A few interviews here, a few photo shoots there. Whatever the country needs to sleep soundly at night and know that our new magicians still have destiny watching over them. All we need you to do is show up and smile.”
Ellery’s stomach roiled, and she stood abruptly, grasping for Iskarius.
“I won’t play your bullshit parts anymore,” she spat. “I did my duty. I’m done.”
She turned on her heel and left.
As soon as the door shut behind her, she cloaked herself, then ducked into the stall of a nearby bathroom. One hand clutched the most powerful wand in the world while the other dabbed at her face with toilet paper.
Her blurry gaze focused on a piece of crude graffiti, scrawled in painfully familiar handwriting. Its enchantment had begun to fade:
