“We know what is best for our people and it’s not another war,” Amja said. “You must trust this wisdom.”

Saxony wished that she could, but she had already seen what monsters lurked in the shadows and now those monsters were stepping into the light, and if someone didn’t do something—if she didn’t do something—then they would swallow the world.

“You’re making a mistake,” Saxony said. “And we’ll all suffer for it.”

She turned from them, the family she had been born into, who she’d once trusted more than anything, and left the room wondering how in the name of the Many Gods she was supposed to win a war with hardly any damned soldiers.

Saxony all but ripped open the door of the tree house to the outside world, bottling the scream in her throat. Outside, Karam stood with her arms crossed at her chest and a knife hitched to her belt, just in case.

Around them, the forest cooed. A poor attempt to calm Saxony.

Karam’s smile tilted. “Does that look mean your family went along with everything you said with a happy smile?” she asked. “Because you do seem happy.”

“It’s like you’re a mind reader,” Saxony said. “Really, you’ve got a lot of talent. Sure you’re not an Intuitcrafter?”

Karam smirked and held out her hand for Saxony’s. The moment their fingers locked, all of the anger that she had felt dissipated.

Well, not all of it, because Karam wasn’t a miracle worker and Saxony was truly pissed off, but enough that she felt like she could breathe a little easier.

“I feel like there’s no point in even trying anymore,” Saxony said as they made their way down the branched staircase. “I’m only ever hitting dead ends.”

And, really, there were so many other things she’d much rather be doing than trying to break through to her amja. War aside, Saxony wanted little more than to spend an uninterrupted evening with Karam. In her arms. In her bed. She wanted more than just the few stolen moments and kisses they had been afforded over the past few days.

But there was no rest in the fight against the wicked, especially with Dante Ashwood attacking districts in Creije.

“You will get through to them,” Karam said. “It is in your blood to lead.”

She squeezed Saxony’s hand a little harder.

“I appreciate the faith,” Saxony said. “But it’s like talking to a busker about the law. Totally pointless. Won’t change their minds no matter what.”

“Tell that to Tavia,” Karam said, as their feet touched the soil.

She gestured across the way, to where Saxony’s old friend was sitting by the campfire, sorting magic into piles, alongside a group of buskers.

“She changed from wanting to run from Creije and its criminals, to fighting to save it and organize her comrades into an army.”