I nod because I think I already sense what he’s about to say.

“It is time to free them, once and for all.”

“Other than a warder’s own death, the only escape from the warder bond is his king’s death, but that kills the warder too,” Gabriel says, his voice dead like he’s recited the words a thousand times.

Tyr dips his head, acknowledging his words.

“That is true,” he says. “Or I can choose to free you with this.”

He holds up the ark.

“I’m sorry,” he says, tears filling his blue eyes. “I should have done this so long ago.”

So many emotions cross Gabriel’s face—sadness, anger, confusion. And a profound sense of loss. Atlas could have chosen to free them at any point.

“Thank you,” he says, dropping his head either out of respect or in an attempt to hide the tears that I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want anyone to see.

“Do not thank me,” Tyr says. “If I had never allowed this tradition to continue, then nothing Atlas did would have been possible. I am as much to blame for all of it.”

“No,” Gabriel says. “Don’t do that. Just because someone has power doesn’t mean they have to use it.”

Those words strike something deep in my chest. I think about the destructive power of my magic and realize how true they are.

“Do you know how to do it?” Nadir asks.

Tyr shakes his head. “I know some of it, but I will speak with the Mirror while we wait for the others to return. It’s time I make some decisions anyway.”

Everyone in the room is silent, their eyes on Gabriel, who seems to be two seconds away from falling apart.

“I’m going to . . .” He shakes his head. “I’m just going.”

Then he abruptly spins on his heel and stalks out of the room.

I don’t know why I do it. Gabriel and I have always had a complicated relationship, and maybe I’m the last person he wants to see right now, but I bolt for the door.

“Excuse me,” I say before I follow Gabriel, running to catch up. His steps are sure and quick, and he ignores me as I fall in next to him. I have to jog-walk to keep pace with his long legs.

I open my mouth, but he cuts me off.

“Don’t,” he says. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“About what?” I ask as he gives me a side-eyed glare. “Oh, you mean the whole prisoner to your king thing?” I raise a hand and mime buttoning my lips shut.

“Totally not what I was going to ask you about,” I say, and he gives me another skeptical look. “I mean, I don’t really care, you know?”