Meora held the boy in her arms wrapped in a bundle of soft blankets. Rion stood at her side, looking down, peering into the scrunched face of the child—his child. Despite everything, Rion had hoped some latent rush of affection would manifest for his son, but it had yet to happen.

His gaze slid to his father, Garnet, seated on his throne. Barely a trace of breath remained in the king. Wisps of white hair fluttered meekly on a nonexistent breeze, his skin stretched over his frame so thinly it looked like it would rip at the slightest pressure. Still, he clung to life, refusing to move on.

Rion’s fist clenched as he ground his teeth and rolled his neck. It was uncommonly warm in here with all these people crammed into the space. The flames from the Torch gave off an impressive amount of heat.

One by one, the citizens of The Aurora approached to greet the child. Meora beamed proudly, tipping the bundle to show him off, offering exclamations and giggling at everything the baby did, no matter how mundane.

Rion pinched the bridge of his nose and resisted the urge to snap at her to maintain her sense of decorum. Normally, the woman was a nervous wreck, and as much as that grated on his nerves, it was preferable to this bubbleheaded fool.

Once each noble had viewed the child, they moved to the king and queen, falling to their knees in respect. Rion peered again at his son, and inexplicably, the child seemed to notice him. Did he imagine the accusation in the baby’s gaze? The knowing? The understanding that he’d already disappointed his father in more ways than he could possibly imagine?

Rion clasped his hands, spinning the wide ring he wore around his finger. He’d recently created it, chiseling out a piece of virulence to always carry with him.

He’d been testing the material for months, using his magic against it and keeping notes of his own. The process was difficult and complex, rarely producing the results he sought. He’d wondered why the rulers hadn’t used the arks in other ways, but he was starting to understand it wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed. Herric had given them instructions on using the arks to control the strength of their own magic, but that was all he’d shared.

He also suspected this was what Zerra had come for all those years ago during the Burning. While she’d pretended it had been about loyalty, he wondered if she’d created the priestesses to root them out. If the arks were killing her, it stood to reason that she’d want to keep them close.