To my surprise, Lariel had put up no struggle. She walked quietly with her head down. Probably just biding her time, waiting for an opportunity to make a break for it. But still, she looked pitiful in the grey light, shivering from the cold, her shoulders stooped. I thought about Zenza, about the bolt that should have struck Millie’s head. My sympathies dwindled.

The woods ended close to the edge of Aytrium. The south-western road looped along the curve of the island’s perimeter, with nothing but an old farm fence separating the land and the drop. Beyond was only cloud, too dense for my eyes to penetrate.

“There,” said Cyde, pointing at a black spot further up the road. It grew larger as we watched; through the veil of rain, it resolved into a large, two-horse cab.

“How do we know that’s the right one?” asked Finn.

“Not many people take this road,” said Cyde. Her eyes narrowed, and she nodded to herself. “And the flag’s up.”

A scrap of sodden blue fabric was tied to the driver’s perch. Cyde stepped out onto the road. The vehicle slowed and came to a halt. The driver jumped down.

“Osan!” I exclaimed.

He offered me a smile, although it seemed forced. I quickly walked forward and hugged him. He was soaking wet and shivering.

“You know, you’re getting downright clingy nowadays,” he said. “Stop before you embarrass me.”

“Are you okay? Is Rhyanon okay?”

“She’s fine. Furious, but fine. The Commander told her what Verje did to you.” He glanced at my arm, now neatly bandaged, then spoke to Cyde over the top of my head. “I came as quickly as I could. Asan says Celane’s going to use the confusion around the Pillar incident to try to make her move. You should get back to the Moon House before they come looking for you.”

Cyde made a dismissive gesture. “I’m hunting down the vandal. If anything, my absence might convince them of my devotion.”

Osan looked doubtful, but the Reverend was already moving toward the cab.

“Well, your martyrdom, I suppose,” he muttered.

It was a close fit with all of us crammed inside the cab, so Millie sat up on the driver’s seat with Osan and held Cyde’s umbrella over both their heads. We rolled down the muddy road, south along the edge of the island. I was fidgety and anxious, and I could feel the pressure of my visions building like a storm in the air. The rain continued.

“Where are we going?” I asked Cyde.

“Somewhere more secure,” she said, watching the clouds through the window. “Less obvious.”

“And then?”

She did not answer me. Finn caught my eye and gave the faintest of shrugs. It might have been my imagination, but I thought his irises looked more green than blue. Beside him, Lariel sat with her head bowed, hands clamped together. She seemed ill and cold.

Murderer, I reminded myself. She was the one who sent Finn to the pyre. She deserves to suffer.