“This is insanity,” Simran said. “We are shadows and we have become very rich and powerful that way.”

“This is about more than riches and power,” Ashwood said. “This is about salvation. A new world of magic, roaming free throughout the four realms.”

“We’re not innocents,” Aurelia said. “We’ve done horrible things in the name of magic and self-interest, but what you’re talking about is treason. Usurping a Doyen? An official world leader? Seizing control of governments and armies? Even if you could manage to topple Fenna Schulze, the citizens would never accept you.”

Dante Ashwood did not falter.

He had never faltered.

“That is why I have the Loj,” he said.

Aurelia sneered and Zekia had to swallow and squint at the floor to keep from doing something bad.

“Your mind-control elixir is flawed and so is your plan,” Aurelia said, pushing herself from the cabin door in frustration. “We will not be a part of this. If you want to destroy your realm for a blood dream, then you can do it without dragging our realms and reputations into it.”

Zekia took her eyes off the floor and let them burn into Aurelia.

She did not like her.

Not one bit.

All Aurelia cared about was herself and her ambition. She didn’t understand what would happen if they didn’t do this.

Zekia stepped forward, biting her bottom lip with a frown.

“You’re really mean,” she said. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. “I don’t like mean people.”

She took another step forward and Aurelia’s face drained, her mouth parting slightly as she took in an uncertain breath. Maybe all of her stolen magic could sense the power that Zekia had and maybe it was running scared, leaving its heartless leader to fight alone.

“Now, now,” Ashwood said.

Zekia felt his hand on her shoulder, warm and cold at the same time, his shadows squirming loudly by her ears.

Zekia tried not to wince at them. She held her breath so as not to smell the burnt magic they were soaked in. She didn’t want Ashwood to know that she was thinking bad things about him.

“My little warrior,” Ashwood said. He squeezed her shoulder tightly. “Destined for so much greatness. How proud you make me.”

Zekia smiled at that, though she couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t earned.

That destiny he spoke about was never hers. It was given to her, like a consolation, or a gift meant to soothe her broken heart as Zekia tried her best to live without a mother or a big brother to guide her. Other people got tearful sympathies and tender words. They inherited traits or fancy jewels from their dead parents.

Zekia had inherited an entire people.