Dust particles hang suspended in the beam of her flashlight. A thin cobweb dangles, frozen, in the corner of the ceiling above her head. Kai’s completely still, as if she’s made of wax. I rise from Névé’s chair and circle around her, my movements reflected off the dark surface of her eyes.

“You lied to me,” I whisper. “You betrayed me. And for what? Because you made a deal with Lyon? Lyon was dead! There was nothing he could give you! Nothing he could promise you that I wouldn’t have offered you, and you chose him anyway.” Deep in my head, I feel Fleur’s mind go still. Her pacing has stopped, her consciousness listening, as if she senses something is wrong. I lower my voice. Whisper in Kai’s ear, “I came back. I honored my promise. I offered you her magic. We could have fixed all of this together. But instead, you ran to Jack.” I come around her, putting my face close to hers. “You thought you could trust him. But the joke is on you.”

Easing upright, I push time forward. Kai sucks in a sharp breath. She drops her flashlight. I grab her by the wrist as she reaches for her bow.

Her eyes dart to the scythe. She knows better than to ask what I’m doing here.

“You never should have killed them,” she says, as if that justifies her betrayal.

“Someone had to stop them. You’ve seen the storms. The disasters. The fires and floods. They’re only getting worse.”

“Because of what you’ve done!” In her eyes, I see the flash of a memory—a sick girl, huddled under a thin blanket on a sidewalk, sleet bouncing off her shoulders as she coughs.

I shake my head. “You know as well as I do that Lyon put all this in motion a long time ago.” She turns away from me, a guilty flush sweeping across her cheeks. “If it weren’t for Sommers’s rebellion, everything would be like it was. Lyon is ultimately responsible for this.”

“Lyon was only trying to free us!”

“Really?” I ask. “Who was it who put you in that holding cell with me? I was the one who let you go!” She glances sharply at her wrist, and I drop it with a shove. I wander to her sister’s bookshelf, trailing a finger over Névé’s trophies and figurines. “I see you and Jack made an alliance. Does he know who you are?”

Her pause is too long. “Of course he knows.”

“Not who you were when you shot him in Cuernavaca. Does he know who you were supposed to be? You and your sister?” I circle behind her as she holds a breath. “Does he know about your secret alliance with Lyon all those years ago?” I lean in and whisper, “I do.”