Storme looked troubled. “If that’s true, and Scyre Kinok is behind this . . . What’s he planning? Is he just trying to create an army of monsters?”

“But what you described doesn’t sound like an army,” said Junn. “You said the creatures are mindless. That they cannot be controlled. I don’t believe this is Scyre Kinok’s master plan—above all else, he craves control. What does he stand to gain from this?”

“Maybe it’s about fear, intimidation,” said Storme. “Like a warning to his other followers. A display of power.”

“No,” said Ayla, mind racing. “That doesn’t make sense. I think . . .”

What did she know about Kinok? He had the mind of a scientist, an alchemist. He was a former Watcher of the Heart, as well as a Scyre—someone who studied the Four Pillars of the Automae in the name of advancing Automakind. He wanted to end his Kind’s reliance on the Iron Heart, their weak spot.

He’d created Nightshade himself. Crier had said, He wants us to be invulnerable. He’d sent it not to his enemies but to his followers. Like Rosi, who worshipped him. Ayla had seen it herself, when she and Crier had visited Rosi’s estate: the way Rosi’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of Kinok’s name. She adored him.

And yes, above all else: Kinok craved control.

“I think he made a mistake,” Ayla said, hearing the realization in her own voice. “Why would he want to turn his most loyal followers into mindless killing machines? I think he didn’t know what Nightshade would do to them. I think he was just testing it out on them, maybe. Experimenting. But he didn’t know it would poison them like this.”

Silence for a long moment.

Then Junn said, “I knew you’d be useful.”

Storme looked troubled. “Your majesty, I think we should send reinforcements to the border immediately,” he said. “The traders are well armed, but only against human rebels. Already two traders have been killed, their caravans destroyed. Varn’s entire heartstone supply is in jeopardy.”

Junn nodded. “After we end here, go directly to the marshal. I want reinforcements ready to depart at dawn.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“In the meantime, do you think it feasible to use the old trade routes? We’ve plenty of records and maps.”

“I had the same thought, but I don’t think it’ll work,” said Storme. “Those routes were targeted during the War of Kinds—bridges destroyed, passes blocked by rockfall. They haven’t been usable for fifty years.” A cautious note entered his voice. “We don’t need old routes. We need new weapons.”

New weapons?

The queen’s eyes narrowed. “I assume you are not speaking hypothetically, adviser.”

Storme straightened up, as if the mention of his title made him want to appear worthy of it. “As I said, the monsters have appeared in some parts of Tarreen as well. But it seems the Tarreenians are not quite so helpless as the heartstone traders. I spoke with a trader who passed through Tarreen and saw this weapon in use. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but he described it as ‘blue fire.’ Like a powder bomb but much more powerful—he said it took out twenty monsters at once. An explosion of blue fire, he said.”