Page 32 of Fallacies

“I’m still trying to gather all the information we have,” Easton starts, “but according to the Diviners, the ward around Streatham was created using the blood of at least five powerful Rogues⁠—”

There’s a soft rap against the wooden door, and my gaze snaps up.

I nod to Phoenix, who stretches his long arm out to open it, and relief floods me, ceasing the senseless tapping of my leg.

Lucina stands in the doorway, the ends of her loose curls damp from a shower. She’s wearing linen pants and a matching shirt, a warm color to her skin that hadn’t been there when she made it out of Albatross. There’s a wave of energy rippling off her, magic replenished, and she looks alive with it. Entirely healed.

We’re all watching her as she hovers over the threshold, surveying us. Six fully grown men crammed around a messy table, making an already small room feel even smaller.

“What is this?” she asks finally, her lips twitching as she takes us in. “Bible study?”

Hunter snorts, and I’m tempted to smile myself.

“No,” I tell her. “This is a meeting.”

Lucina nods thoughtfully, her attention snagging on an amused Pax.

“Which you are more than welcome to join,” I offer, my gaze drifting to Devon. “And anyone who has a problem with that can leave.”

Everyone’s looking at Devon now, but I notice Lucina stiffen in the doorway, her lips pressed tightly together.

For a moment, Devon just sits there, his jaw grinding, his hands curling into tight fists over the table. The room is thick with tension, the energy swelling until even I’m uncomfortable.

Then, in one quick motion, Devon rises from his seat.

My grip on my armrests tightens, fingers digging into the leather. Right as I’m about to explode, Devon takes one long step across the room, grabs a chair out of the corner, and drags it up to the table. Right beside his.

It’s an olive branch. An apology in the only way Devon knows how to do it—with actions and not words. And this, an empty chair beside his…This is a good start.

Lucina hesitates for only a second before making her way to the chair, holding his gaze as she does. Devon waits until she’s seated before pushing the chair in for her, and then he wordlessly sinks back into his own.

I don’t realize how intently I’m staring at her until Lucina scowls. “I’m fine,” she assures me. “Gemma’s not worried, so you shouldn’t be either.”

Short of leaning over the table and checking her vitals myself, I’m left with no choice but to trust her.

I straighten in my seat, trying to remember what we had been in the middle of before she walked in.

“The blood ward,” Hunter helpfully supplies.

“Right.” I nod to Easton, who promptly picks up right where he left off.

“The ward around Streatham was created with the blood of at least five powerful Rogues. With Alaric and his Disciples being of the highest rank, it’s rational to deduce that they’re responsible.”

The thought of all five of them in a room, pouring their blood over a ward to keep us out, makes me want to fall back into old habits and hunt every last Rogue on the planet. Every one of their Disciples is powerful, but Alaric has unprecedented magic, and I have no doubt that he passed it along to every Tenebrus that came after him. Kage Tenebrus certainly had it when he stormed Streatham and ripped families apart like it was nothing. Like it was fun.

Easton continues, “Their blood put it up so their blood can take it down.” He looks to me, confirming with a grim nod, “And we were right that day in the mines…only Rogue blood can pass.”

I set my pen down when I realize how tightly I’m gripping it. “Assuming you’re right, and all five Disciples have blood in the ward, would we need all five of them to take it down?”

Phoenix perks up at that, for morbid reasons, of course, his mismatched eyes lighting up at the mention of blood. “Easton,” Nix pipes up, eyes wide in anticipation, “do you think we could pass the ward if we bathe in their blood?”

Easton and I glare back at him.

“No, Nix,” he replies, “you have too much Sol blood. You won’t trick a blood ward by painting your skin with someone else’s.” Phoenix sucks on his teeth, and out of the corner of my eye, Hunter shivers. Easton turns his attention back to me. “It’s my best guess that to take down the ward, we’d need at least one of the Rogue Disciples. Dead.”

I shake my head. “We can’t afford guesses.”

“We can’t afford not to try,” Pax chimes in, his attention cutting to me. I can sense the plan taking root before he even says it. “We can go to Onyile⁠—”