Istand with my brothers, forming a circle in the throne room with Tyr at the center. We’re all shirtless, our bodies honed from decades of training, the golden tattoos on our necks exposed to reveal the glittering sinuous lines curving over our collarbones.

The Mirror sits uncovered, reflecting sunlight streaming through the open ceiling. We cleaned up the dome’s shattered glass but have yet to repair it. Add it to my endless list of shit to deal with. It isn’t raining for the first time in what feels like forever, and I tip my face up, closing my eyes, basking in the rays of the sun.

Hylene and Erevan wait in the corner, but no one else was invited to witness this moment. It’s too private. Too raw to expose to anyone but the people we trust the most.

The scuff of a boot draws my attention to Tyr, who clutches the ark in his hands. He’s looking at me, scanning my body from head to toe. I can’t decide what I read in his expression. It straddles so many lines—regret, sadness, conviction. What’s going through his head?

“The Mirror will assist,” Tyr says. “I have studied how to release you—”

His words cut off as he sucks in a breath that rattles in his chest, clutching the ark in his thin hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a hoarse whisper. “I’m sorry for all the pain I caused and for ever tying you to my will in the first place. I was young and entitled, drunk on what I believed was my right to power, confident I had every right as your king. I regret that it was only through my brother’s actions that I finally saw the light and the error of my ways. Had he not imprisoned me and used you against me, then we might have lived like this until the end of my days.”

He studies each of us in turn, his gaze unwavering. He isn’t asking for our forgiveness. He’s looking each of us in the eye and admitting his mistakes.

I watch my brothers as Tyr seems to have a silent conversation with each of us, their expressions a mixture of acceptance and resolve. Tyr’s gaze lingers on the scars that cover our arms and chests—the markings left by Atlas when he punished us for our defiance. I try not to look too hard. For so many years, I’ve tried not to look too hard. I also try not to notice that mine are the worst—that I paid this price so dearly in more ways than one.