Ephyra tried not to think about it as they made their way through the unfamiliar residence of the Archon Basileus of Pallas Athos. The huge, sprawling villa, which sat on the cliffs overlooking the sea, was so grand it almost felt like a castle. To Ephyra, it felt more like a prison. She was allowed only in the room where she slept, the adjoining courtyard that faced out to the sea, and of course, Beru’s room, where they ate dinner together every night. Wherever the Witnesses were taking her, she’d never been before.

They arrived at a grand set of double doors that opened to reveal a lavish room decorated in gold and white. A marble desk faced out from a row of shelves filled with books and decorative plaques and vases. It looked like an office of some sort—perhaps where the Archon Basileus had once conducted his official business, before the Hierophant had put him in chains.

At the back of the room, against a pane of windows filtering in bright light, stood the Hierophant himself. With his crisp white robes and the golden sunlight haloed around him, Ephyra could almost understand why the priests of Pallas Athos worshipped him.

As the Witnesses shoved Ephyra into the room, she realized the Hierophant wasn’t the only person inside. Illya Aliyev leaned against the desk behind him, arms crossed over his chest, managing to look at once elegant and nonchalant.

Ephyra wanted to kill him.

His gaze flicked over her, snagging on the thin chains encircling her wrists. Ephyra could read nothing in his expression. She looked away abruptly, before their eyes could meet.

She had seen glimpses of him over the past two months, from across courtyards and down hallways—enough to know he’d wormed his way back into the Hierophant’s fold through his usual combination of charm, a lack of moral code, and willingness to do whatever repugnant thing was required of him. But this was the first time they’d stood in the same room together since that day in Behezda.

The Hierophant’s other favorite lackey, the one with the Godfire scars, was nowhere to be found, which meant that Beru wasn’t here.

“Please,” the Hierophant said to Ephyra softly. “Have a seat.”

As if Ephyra had acquiesced to this meeting. As if she was a guest here and not a prisoner.

“I’m good here,” she replied, not moving.

“I’m sure you’re curious why I summoned you.”

She was curious. She’d barely even laid eyes on the Hierophant since they’d arrived in Pallas Athos. He seemed content to keep her locked up, bringing her out only when he could use her to control Beru.

This felt like something else. She just didn’t know what, and not knowing made her more nervous than if he’d simply brought her here for another beating.