“I don’t like any of this,” Amya says.

My gaze wanders to the window where the northern lights ripple across the sky.

I think about all the lonely nights I looked upon them, wishing for another life, wishing for freedom. I remember shivering in my bed, cold and hungry. I remember the hopelessness and the certainty that I would never get out of Nostraza alive. I remember my icy rage and my vows of revenge that became the only things that kept me warm.

I remember everything.

“I don’t think we have a choice anymore,” I say.

I hold up the map and look back at Nadir and Amya.

At my mate. At my second sister.

This family I never expected to find.

This family I’ll do everything in my power to keep.

“We have to find him, and we have to get the ark. One of us will die, and I’m going to make damn sure it isn’t me, but I won’t live under his shadow anymore. This ends now. Once and for all.”

CHAPTER 55

GABRIEL

APHELION—THE SUN PALACE

We stand in the courtyard of the Sun Palace under yet another grey sky. Thousands have gathered outside the walls to bear witness to Atlas’s execution. The inevitable could no longer be avoided.

Though officially the order came from Tyr, I uttered the fatal words, and they sit heavy in my chest like my heart has turned to iron. There were a few feeble protests and arguments on Atlas’s behalf, but they were quickly buried. It seems no one is in a forgiving mood. The few still loyal to him have been dealt with, too, though their punishments were more private and more easily delivered.

As the news filtered through the districts, I stood on the palace’s highest towers, watching Aphelion’s reaction. The celebrations of the low fae went well into the night, and while it seems callous to celebrate a man’s death, I also understand their position.

I run a hand through my hair, expelling a heavy sigh. They all want to come closer, but I know this would turn into a blood bath if we allowed it. Almost every soldier in Aphelion is already marching through the crowd, struggling to maintain order.

In the center of the courtyard stands a platform. Off to my left, Atlas waits flanked by Jareth and Rhyle, the arcturite cuffs still binding his wrists and throat. His gaze slides to me, and he stares with fury and loathing. I don’t know if he’s trying to intimidate me, but I stare back, unflinching.

He made this bed. I’m only doing what I must.

Clouds gather in the sky as if they, too, understand what’s about to happen. I feel the first gentle drops against my cheeks and hope this isn’t an ominous sign.