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I smile.

“They burned,” he says, shaking his head. “They were all burned.”

“They burned bodies,” I answer. “They did not burn power.”

My magic spreads.

The iron gates rattle behind me, opening and slamming into the stone walls once, then again, each impact harder than the last.

The warden whimpers.

“The Arcanum is very much alive,” I say, lifting my hand. The hinges rip from the stone posts with a scream of iron and mortar, bolts snapping loose, chains breaking apart, registration tags scattering across the yard as both massive gates wrench backward and crash onto the ground hard enough to shake dust from the roof beams.

The gates shudder once more, then tear free. People cry out and stumble away, but I do not lower my hand.

The sign above the central arch begins to shake next, swaying dangerously, its chains rattling and groaning under the pressure of my magic.

DOCKHOUSE AUCTION.

The letters glow from within, each ugly iron shape heating brighter until the old paint blisters, cracks, and peels away in smoking flakes.

The warden drops to his knees. “My queen,” he whispers, terrified now.

“You should have remembered,” I say, watching the sign twist above him, “that cages only work until what’s inside is set free.”

The chains snap.

The sign tears from the arch and folds inward on itself, iron bending, twisting, crushing beneath the force, until the words that named this place become a warped knot of metal hanging in the air above the yard.

I close my fist.

The sign crumples smaller.

The warden bows his head so fast his forehead nearly strikes the ground.

I let the crushed iron drop at his feet, and he cowers, flinching away from me as I approach.

“But you’re right, I was from the cages,” I say, my voice low and venomous. “And now I am queen,” I continue. “So perhaps the world has gone mad, or perhaps it has finally remembered who it wronged.”

Kylian’s presence moves closer behind me, but he still does not interfere.

I hold the warden’s gaze until he stops trying to look away. “You should start looking for honest work,” I tell him. “The flesh markets are no longer open for business.”

For a moment, the only sound is the wind moving through the empty cells.

Then I turn from him, and the fury drains from my voice.

“I’m done shopping. We should go home. I’m getting hungry,” I say.

Kylian is there before I finish the sentence, his hand extended, gaze fixed on my face as a smirk tugs at his lips.

I take his hand, and as his fingers close around mine, the bond settles. We walk through the place where the gates used to stand, leaving the warden on his knees behind us and the flesh markets busted wide open.

I squeeze Kylian’s hand, and he shrugs off his cloak, draping it across my shoulders and tugging me closer. “If they hadn’t realized, they do now,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the side of my head.

“You’re not angry,” I state.

“No, I like this bossy side of you, as long as it isn’t directed at me,” he chuckles.