“And when was this?” His voice grew persistent, and when I told him, he let out several curse words. “This is what I’ve told Rhea about.” He seemed to be talking to himself. I was surprised that he was calling our queen by her first name.

“Does that mean Bryan was sent to kill me and failed? Is that what got him killed?” I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder, squeezing me as if trying to transfer energy. When I looked up, my eyes met Sera Lincoln’s.

“No.” Drake finally gave me a valid answer. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you, but, at the risk of you breaking into the library again and tearing another page out of a historical relic, I suppose it’s better to inform you.”

So he knew about my rendezvous with Adrian, but did he know what we were looking for? About our plan? I decided to keep my mouth tightly shut, and instead, I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what he was going to say.

“We were informed by the Moir”—Drake cleared his throat—“someone, that the spirits were coming here to disrupt the Gathering. One of them must have found you in your sleep.”

“What happened to Bryan and Carlo in that dream wasn’t real?”

“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. We mortals don’t have the power to know for sure. All the deaths of non-Stavros that were caused by the Faction are considered collateral damage. We classify them as car accidents so as not to draw attention to the fact that the Faction still exists.”

“Seriously? You don’t think people are going to be suspicious if you just list the same cause of death over and over again?”

“Our goal here is to ensure that the Faction doesn’t kill anybody else. Then we won’t have to worry about people cluing into what’s really going on.” He opened the door, indicating our conversation was drawing to a close.

Fire and determination took me over. Burning rage hissed through my body like a deadly poison, demanding release. It was like a volcano ready to erupt; fury swept off me like ferocious waves. I did not care that I was a Stavros. I couldn’t care less about the royal blood. All I could think about was the fact that two people died because of me.

They had died because of me.

I had to break all ties with the Hellenicus and the Court before anyone else got hurt.

Right before they let me leave, my father—or Hawke, I had to stop calling him Dad now—held my hand and, for a rare moment, his face showed parental concern. “I know it’s tough, kiddo, but you’re stronger than you think, and you will get through this.”