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“Don’t give him a hard time over it,” I said quickly. “He doesn’t know how to act around me. He can’t be a good teacher if he can’t yell at me, I guess, and he can’t really yell at me if he thinks he’s going to be beheaded.”
Zen hooted with laughter. “That son of a gun should have been put on the racks fifty years ago for that mouth of his. He’s not going to get locked up for the way he teaches, that’s for damn sure.”
“Zen…”
“Oh, all right. I’ll talk to him.”
“I don’t know if that’s going to help,” I sighed, sitting back.
His smile faded, and he set his fork down finally. “What’s troubling you?”
I shook my head and forced a smile. “No, nothing. I’m just saying—”
“No, something’s been bothering you since… well, since Agnan. Are you regretting what we did?”
I scoffed loudly. “Hell no.”
My eyes darted toward the threshold of the dining room, and I cleared my throat, leaning forward. “No. Not at all. I’ve never been more relieved.”
“But…?”
“But nothing, Zen. I’m fine. Truly.”
He exhaled loudly. “Mirielle, I can’t help you if you don’t communicate with me. But I think I know what it is because you already told me—the night that he died.”
The corners of my lips twitched, and I pursed them to keep from showing my expression.
Soft lighting from the chandelier twinkled overhead, catching the glints of black in his hair and giving his scruff a mysterious vibe.
“You’re still thinking about the Order of Souls,” he went on.
My shoulders sagged. “I don’t think they’re gone,” I agreed slowly, my appetite fully dissolving now.
“You’re right,” he replied, and my gut fully flipped.
“What do you mean? How do you know?” I breathed, almost on my feet.
“Because I’ve had the Royal Guards hunting them all down since that night. They haven’t been hard to find without Agnan leading them.”
I gasped, my hand falling to my mouth. “What?!”
“There are about twenty-three in total. Does that sound right?”
I did a mental count in my head, accounting for the ones lost in the latest attack.
“Yes, more or less,” I breathed, my body shaking.
I hadn’t been in the room with everyone in a long time to take inventory, but that sounded right to me.
“We have them. All.”
I blinked—and blinked some more.
“What do you mean, ‘have them’?” I choked, my mind flashing with visions of the faeries I had worked with, lived with, called my sisters. I worried for them, their futures—
“They’re safe,” Zen informed me, studying my expression carefully. “Cared for.”
“Zen, what does that mean? Where are they? What did you do with them?”
