They followed Bellamy down through the halls until they came to a large circular room Agnes hadn’t seen before. The ceiling was glass but the walls were marble, pristine white with narrow, arched windows cut along them at intervals. There was an enormous chair that was more of a throne, upholstered in velvet with gilded wings, and two benches on either side. Matthias and Hektor were already there, seated on the right-hand bench. Bellamy scurried to sit beside her husband. Ambrosine, of course, was on the throne.

“Come,” she said. “Sit.”

The foursome dutifully took their seats on the left-hand bench, exchanging confused glances with each other. They heard footsteps down the hall and Agnes’s pulse thrummed in her ears.

When her father and Kiernan were marched in, they looked awful: dark circles under their eyes, their hair wild, their faces gaunt. Kiernan’s whole body was shaking.

“I trust you had an unpleasant evening,” Ambrosine said to Xavier, who stared at her with a steely expression despite his unruly appearance.

“Mother, please—” Kiernan began, but Ambrosine held up a hand and he fell silent.

“Be quiet, Ezra, the adults are talking.” She turned her focus back to Xavier. “Now. What judgment should be made on the man who stole my granddaughter and two of my prized possessions?”

Agnes kept waiting for her father to look at them, either her or Leo, but he kept his gaze fixed on her grandmother.

“I am a citizen of Kaolin,” he said. “You have no authority to pass judgment on me.”

Ambrosine’s smile cut like a blade. “But you are far from home, Xavier. Your pitiful president and his silly navy have no power here. You should never have come back. Why did you? Was it to rescue your children?”

Agnes’s heart twisted, sharp and painful, as her father, still not looking at them, said, “No.”

“Yet you took Agnes away from me,” Ambrosine said. “Why? If you care so little for her, why not leave her here?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t care,” Xavier shot back. “She wasn’t yours to keep. Alethea would never have wanted that.”

“As if you knew what she wanted better than her own mother.”

Xavier’s nostrils flared. “You didn’t know her at all. You only saw the Alethea you wanted to see.”

“You only saw her money.”

“I loved her!” Xavier snarled, suddenly turning as wild as his hair. His eyes bulged and a vein throbbed in his temple. “I loved her more than my own life and you killed her. You made her come here, you made her have them here. Why couldn’t you just leave her alone?”

“You came too late!” Ambrosine shot back. “I told you. I told you, seven months at the very latest, but you had to wait to the last second, you arrogant bastard.”

“It was your fault we had to come in the first place,” Xavier said.