A Guard grabs me by the shoulder as I return to the line. “Where the hell have you been?” he mutters, dragging me back toward the others.

“Aren’t you supposed to know?” His sweat is sour, his eyes darting everywhere but my face. He’s afraid . . . afraid he’ll be held accountable for my disappearance. I fight the urge to look up and meet his eyes, curious if I’d see that fate reflected inside them.

“Consider yourself lucky. You’re up next,” he says, shoving me to the front of the line.

Kai’s gone, already inside.

I stiffen as a sharp, sudden cry pierces the door. I keep my head down as she wails. I was supposed to get back in time. I was supposed to go first. I hadn’t seen this moment, hadn’t looked for it in the lamp in my hurry to get back here. Every fresh scream slices through me. This is a test, I remind myself. And she’s already passed. It’s not too late to fix this.

After two more excruciating minutes, her cries fall silent and the doors are drawn open.

I already know what’s waiting inside. Already saw the positions of the Guards in my reflection in the lamp. Five of them, spread around the room—one team of Lyon’s personal Guards, plus the one escorting me in—leaving three in the hall, along with the four remaining members of Michael’s Guard . . . the ones who still have their magic.

The wall clock ticks behind us as we cut through the center aisle between the wooden pews. A crow caws from Gaia’s side of the dais. The menagerie of cages behind her desk reeks like crow shit and magic. The nine dismantled Guards who’ve been stripped of their power form a line of sour sweat in the front pew. Kai sits at the end of the row, closest to the center aisle, curled in on herself and shaking as Lyon’s Guard leads me past her to the front of the room. The air shifts, and her eyes narrow up at mine, glistening with betrayal as she lifts her head to watch me. I don’t linger on them. I can’t afford the distraction. I glance down the rest of the pew as I pass. None of the former Guards are wearing shackles.

The Guard pulls me to a halt when we reach the dais. Lyon stands on the short platform above me. I keep my gaze on the polished foot of the staff; my eyes shine back at me, a quick, dark reflection of what’s coming. The ends of the black velvet sash covering the eye dangle between us.

“Douglas,” Lyon says as the Guard removes my shackles. “There’s still time to make the right choice.” A crow shrieks, flapping against the bars of its cage. Gaia turns, distracted by its sudden fit.