He stared up at her, eyes glittering, and for a split second, Serina was back in the library of the palazzo, and the Superior was glaring at her, peeling back her mask of serenity with a single piercing gaze. Serina had known then that her sentence was coming, just as she knew it now. She reminded herself, forcefully, that this was her domain. His future was the one in question, not hers.

“Fine,” Malachi said, his expression hard as steel. “Then help me be the solution. Help me take back Viridia. Help me fight back.”

Serina’s jaw went slack.

SIX

NOMI

IT WAS THE last thing Nomi expected Malachi to say. For a moment, she couldn’t speak.

He tried to shift—to stand up or maybe just sit taller—and winced, putting a hand to his stomach. His face, to which a small amount of color had returned, still looked haggard, with dark circles beneath his eyes and a sunken quality to his cheeks.

Serina knelt on the floor beside Nomi and leaned over Malachi to check his bandages.

“Is he feverish?” Nomi put a tentative hand to his forehead. A little clammy, but not unnaturally warm.

He turned away from her hand.

“I’m not ill,” he growled. “I’m angry. I’ve lost my father and my birthright. I want my country back. With your forces—”

“Forces?” Serina let out an ugly laugh. “We are not an army. And even if we were, we would not be your army.”

Nomi rubbed her hands against her thighs. Malachi was here because of her. And she knew how dangerous Asa was. And Renzo… If Malachi regained the throne, Renzo would be safe. He wouldn’t have to run. But only if…

“Serina,” she began. “Maybe—”

“No.” Serina stood up. She glared down at them both. “I will not watch these women die in the service of a country that will happily destroy them. That has already destroyed them.”

“So, don’t.” Nomi stood up too, her chest tight with a wish—a hope—Asa hadn’t quite burned to ash. “Don’t fight for the old world. Fight for a new one.”

She looked down at Malachi, at the sharp planes of his face, the pallor of his skin, the purse of his full lips. His gaze latched onto hers and maybe there was a warning in his eyes, but she didn’t care.

“The rightful Heir must make concessions,” she said, and she didn’t recognize her own voice. It sounded like Serina’s: certain and self-assured. “If he wants our help, he must change the laws upon our victory.”

Malachi didn’t blink. “What laws?”

Nomi’s heart pummeled her ribs, stealing her breath. “A woman who reads does not deserve a death sentence.”

“Nor any punishment, I agree,” he returned. “I will revoke all laws barring women from an education.”