“He wants to go. But he wants to destroy the ark first. He’s gotten it into his head that he has to see this done. He feels like he’s been useless for so long. This gives him the chance to do something. And he won’t descend until you’re ready.”

Erevan says nothing as he squints into the sun, his gaze sweeping over the churning blue ocean. More silver flashes over the sky, and if I listen carefully, I swear I can hear a scream.

“We might need your magic to help destroy it.”

I say the words tentatively.

“I’m not using my magic until the low fae are permitted to do so as well,” he says, and I sigh because I knew he would say that.

“Erevan—”

He cuts me off. “You know, the day he told me the Mirror had chosen me, I saw my entire life go up in flames. It was the death of every freedom I’d ever had. It meant I could no longer fight for what I believed in.”

“But why does it have to be that way?” I ask. “If you were king, you could make all the changes you’ve been fighting to win for so long. Why are you hesitating?”

“I won’t, though,” Erevan says. “If I’m king, then I’ll always have to find a middle ground. I’ll have to make decisions that appease the council enough to keep them from attempting to undermine me while I do what I can to ensure the populace stays happy.”

He takes a long breath.

“Being the ruler of Aphelion means compromising on my principles just enough that it will seem like I’m doing something when, in truth, I’m doing nothing at all. The council won’t support all of my ideas. So I’ll make some lukewarm promises they’ll pat themselves on the back for, and nothing important will actually change.”

“So what’s the answer?” I ask. “Tyr can’t keep doing this much longer, Erevan. I thought he might come back to us someday, but I don’t think he even wants that anymore. I think he’s ready to go, and I don’t know how much longer he can keep hanging on. If you don’t ascend and take your place, then what happens? Aphelion is left without a ruler, and . . .”

I trail off. I don’t know what will happen. Anarchy. Chaos.

My gaze wanders in the other direction to the dark haze of smoke hanging in the sky. We’re already wallowing in the pits of chaos. The low fae and their supporters continue looting and rioting, and the longer this continues, the further we slide into a place from which we can never return.

“Erevan,” I say. “They’re tearing the city apart. How much longer until we can no longer recover?”

He shakes his head, his gaze following the same direction as mine.