“Of course”—he leans forward like he’s going to tell me a secret—“I have you to thank for that.”

I stare at him with my questions stuck in my throat. I thought I wanted all the answers, but maybe I was better with colorful puzzle pieces. I never should’ve tried to see the whole gruesome picture. But Lucius isn’t going to let me off without knowing, without seeing how everything comes back to me.

He holds out his icicle fingers and then twists his palm up and open, setting free a handful of sapphire butterflies that float up and up until they explode like confetti. Torn wings sprinkle my arms, and my hands shake as I brush them off.

No. That night on the stage with the butterflies…

He watches me, smile still splitting his face. “That was quite the display of power for someone so young. Of course, you lacked control, just as you do now. You expended a lot more power than you needed for such a simple trick. You were like a little beacon—a lighthouse bringing me home.” He takes a step toward me. “You’ve been on my side this whole time. Leading me to that hack that stole your mother and then later forcing her to use her magic to reveal herself? I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter.”

I stumble back, my throat burning.

I’m the link to everything bad that’s happened to me.

Everything bad that’s happened to Parker.

But there’s one thing left I can do. Live. Get back to Parker. Make sure I’m not the reason he loses again.

Something’s shattering in me—no, multiple things. My heart’s one of them, but the other is the cage I’ve been keeping my magic locked in. It’s escaping bit by bit, pooling in me like bubbling lava. I feel like I could take him right now.

I look at my feet so he can’t tell what I’m thinking.

His eyes follow my stare.

The tiles aren’t just gold beneath my feet anymore. The magic has spun a pattern of golden roses against the black, and I’m standing in the center of the largest bloom.

We both look back up at each other. His eyes grow sharp and cold, like the blades still on his fingers.

He knows the magic’s with me. That I’m not something he can control, a weapon he can wield. Just like that, I’m a threat.

I know that whatever stopped him from having me killed all those years ago—it won’t stop him now.

I square my shoulders, and he smiles. He leans toward me again just enough to be threatening, but he won’t do it here.

He’ll want it to be a spectacle.