Di steeled himself, willing his eyes to be Valerio blue one last time, and stepped out into the garden.

Erik stared at him, mouth unhinged, one moment in surprise—and then he realized what was happening: he had been tricked.

Of course he had. He had not actually expected Ana would show herself here, had he? She had more important matters to attend.

“I am afraid Empress Ananke will not be coming,” Di began, earning the attention of the entire garden, and with him came murmurs, rumors rushing behind him like a tide. As he moved past the Ironbloods in their pretty frock coats and dresses swirled with galaxies, he caught their attention like a ripple in a placid pond. The crowd parted into a wide clearing, where Mellifare stood—as if she was waiting. Perhaps she was. And perhaps this was a trap. But like Robb said, they were quick on their feet, and they courted the impossible as surely as the worlds waltzed around the sun.

Mellifare stared at him as if she had seen a ghost. He did not hear the song, but he knew it was there. “You.”

“Me, sadly,” Di replied.

He came to a stop in front of her, and oh how he remembered all those long nights sitting beside her in his bedchamber because neither of them needed sleep. He remembered how she braided his hair so tenderly and told him what she would do to this kingdom once she had found her heart. The promises of death and revenge and darkness. He could not even remember why she was so bent on destruction, and a part of him knew she did not remember, either.

The Great Dark existed just to ruin. It had forgotten any other purpose.

Di hoped to make sure it would never ruin anything again.

He noticed Robb stepping back into the crowd, away from his brother, and disappearing around a bush and into the garden. On the other side of the crowd, Viera stepped back too—and followed, even though she was supposed to stay with Wynn. He curled his hands into fists.

“I am sorry I am a little late—I am glad you started the party without me,” he said, taking a flute of champagne from one of the waiters’ trays.

The chorus of murmurs grew louder, and Di turned to the Ironbloods, who got more confused and frightened by the moment.

“I fear I have not been very truthful to you all these last six months. You see, I do not rust for the crown, but it is not because I am worthy.” He took off the Iron Crown with his free hand, and like before, he eased the darkness out of his eyes, like color draining from a tapestry, to pale moonlight. “It is because Metals do not rust.”

As he’d expected, the closest Ironbloods recoiled, the gasps of monster and murderer falling from their lips.

He pointed the crown at Mellifare. “And she is the Great Dark.”