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Hugo shakes his head, dark curls swatting his cheeks. “Comes easy for you, doesn’t it? You’ve always been above the rest of us. Not really friends with any of us. Always better.”

“Hugo,” I say gently, “please, put your spear down.”

He looks like I’ve struck him. “It’s Poppy, Vesper.”

“We’ll help her. We’ll come back for her and help her when the Ridding is over.” I turn to Lonan. “Right?”

And there’s that steel in his gaze—the sharp edge of Dark that makes me hate him. The violence. The love affair with death. “She is about to become a siphon. The best option is to kill her now before the transformation is complete.”

I want to slap him. This is the terrible truth of Lonan—he’s willing to do anything. It’s what makes him a perfect soldier, my godfather’s prize, and a walking nightmare. What’s worse, he makes sense, and I hate it.

“What’s wrong with you?” I spit. “You would sacrifice any of us to win, wouldn’t you? Would it even bother you?” My throat is raw, and my voice is weak. A silent conversation passes between us, like it is only us in the room and there are not crossed blades between our necks. One flinch and this cohort dissolves.

“That’s not true,” he says. “I would sacrifice anyone to save you.”

Chapter Twenty

I’ve never heard anything so absurd, and I’ve been faced with a number of absurd truths in the last few hours alone. I have sparred with Lonan since we were both barely able to lift our weapons, since I was taller than him and he was the surly, mop-headed orphan my godfather brought to Gossemort like an abandoned puppy. I can admit—possibly, begrudgingly, through gritted teeth—that we hold something like mutual acceptance of each other. Maybe an ounce of respect and a lack of desire to see the other person slaughtered by a siphon.

But the words he just spoke are nowhere near the realm of what lies between us.

Cleverly, I reply, “What?”

He inclines his head. “You, Vesper. I’m here for you.” A slow, almost sad smile spreads on his lips. “I swore to your godfather I’d protect you. No matter the cost. I staked my life on your safety.”

I want to step away, but there are still blades drawn all around. Lonan reaches for me, clasping my arm in his large hand. He seems intent on pinning me in, making me face this.

“You want to know why. I wish I knew.”

I might be sick. I’ve been proud of my performance in school, of how hard I’ve trained. I’ve imagined dozens of times my father’s expression if he could see me now. I daydream proud smiles and a gleam in his eyes when he sees me wipe the floor with Lonan on the training mat. Becoming someone he could be proud of, being capable of destroying the thing that took him, is the one thing that keeps me going, that keeps the pain of grief settled somewhere my broken heart can’t reach it.

But what if none of it is real? What if I’ve only come so far because my godfather manipulated my schooling to protect me, to keep me from facing the worst challenges? I don’t know how I didn’t see it before—he’s insulated me. Of course he has. It’s so like him. Isn’t that what he was doing when he forbade me to attend the Solstice feast?

For the first time, I resent my godfather’s love.

“Stop,” Lonan says. I lift my eyes to meet his. He sighs and offers the others a glare before brushing their weapons aside with the back of his hand. They’ve all lost their fight and finally lower their anchors. Lonan inclines his head toward mine and takes my chin in his hand. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You’ve earned your place here.”

I’m forced to look him in the eyes. Something twinges in my chest as my cheeks heat, and I’m strangely embarrassed that the others are watching this. “Why would he force you to do that?” I ask.

“First of all, he didn’t force me to do anything. And I don’t believe for a moment it’s because you’re frail or incapable or whatever nonsense your brain is whispering to you. Perhaps, Vesper, he’s protecting you simply because he loves you.”

I want to believe that, and even if it seems logical to my mind, my heart can’t grasp it. “Maybe he thinks I’ll be useful somehow—to the war effort.” Why else would he risk someone as capable as Lonan for my safety?

Lonan’s brows furrow. “You think you have to serve some grand purpose to be valuable, don’t you? Treasured for your magic, not your heart.”

It’s not until this moment that I realize how fragile it was—that animosity that kept us at each other’s throats. All he has to do is broach it, step over that invisible line, and suddenly I’m walking on a bed of knives. I don’t know what this is—dangerous, perilous, inevitable. I only know I can’t look him in the eye.

So I turn back to check on Poppy, left lying behind us on the cold stone of the cell. And I stop. My breathing lodges in my chest. Because the spot on the floor, where Poppy was just unconscious, is empty.

Chapter Twenty-One

For a heartbeat, none of us speak. And then all of us have our anchors in hand, bright with the Light.

“The door?” I ask.

“Without us noticing?” Lonan asks.

We’re still. We’re silent. We watch the shadows, backs together.