She makes a noise that suggests she doesn’t believe me.

“These are my conditions. You will travel to Alluvion, ingratiate yourself with Cyan, and find out where his ark is hiding.”

“That’s it?” I ask, hope spiraling in my chest. That I can do.

“No, that’s not it,” she bites out like I’m literally the stupidest person she’s ever met. “Then you’re going to steal it for me.”

I hold in another weary sigh that threatens to topple this entire room. Everyone wants something from me. Rion. Atlas. Cloris. And now . . . this goddess who seems like kind of a bitch. But worse than that, she seems dangerous. A knifepoint dangling over my head.

“And then you’ll bring Nadir back to life?”

“Yes,” she says. “Decide. I grow weary of this conversation. I can just as easily let him die right now. It truly doesn’t matter to me.”

She says the words casually, but they taste like a lie.

The Empyrium described the great lengths she went to retrieve the arks in the past. She wouldn’t have done any of that if they didn’t matter. She tore apart Ouranos trying to root them out, and now she intends to search for them again.

Why does she think I’ll succeed where her priestesses failed? Why is she asking me? Did she see an opportunity when I called for her, knowing she could use Nadir as leverage? Or is all of this a coincidence?

Does any of it matter right now when his life is on the line?

“Where will Nadir be while I’m in Alluvion?”

“Right here with me,” Zerra says. “Were you expecting a parade for him?”

The bitter taste of anger flashes in the back of my throat. “I just need to know he’ll be safe.”

She rolls her eyes. “You really don’t have much choice, dear Lor. Either accept my offer or I’ll send you back to Ouranos, and you can see how you manage on your own. But he’ll be gone. Understand that.”

I could be walking into her trap if she does know of the Empyrium’s plans, and I have no idea if she’ll keep her word, but I’m also aware that I have little currency to offer. If I don’t try, then Nadir will die for sure.

She waves her hand over his body like he’s a fallen log blocking her path. How can a goddess be so callous? I remind myself that she was a spoiled young queen who was forced into this role. She is no benevolent spirit, as we’ve all been led to believe. She never lived up to the potential the Empyrium saw in her. This might be all she knows.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. It’s a fool’s mission, but I’ll do anything to save my mate.

And really, how bad could this be?