Ian traveled in a carriage used by the Blood Crown. Nausea rose in my throat.

Two guards in black armor with matching mantles swept over their shoulders stood beside the carriage’s horses. Another two stood by the closed door, their grips on their swords firm. These knights had a new piece of attire. Their helmets were adorned with combs made of horsehair and shone red in the moonlight. Red-painted masks with slits for eyes fitted tightly to the upper parts of the knights’ faces and hid their identities. It reminded me of the masks worn during the Rite.

“The masks,” Vonetta murmured from behind us. “Are an interesting choice.”

“The Ascended are dramatic in all things,” Casteel said, and he was right.

My heart thumped crazy-fast as Casteel threaded his fingers through mine, and we walked forward, joined by Kieran and Delano and flanked by Vonetta and Nova.

I sensed nothing from the Royal Knights as pebbles crunched under our boots. We stopped several feet from the carriage. Having taken a vow of silence, the knights didn’t speak. At least, these didn’t. The ones who’d come to New Haven had had a lot to say.

“You called,” Casteel spoke first, an air of nonchalance oozing from his tone. “We answered.”

A beat of silence passed, and then a soft rap came from inside the carriage. My breath seized as one of the knights reached forward, opening the door.

Time seemed to slow as one cloak-covered arm extended from the carriage, and a pale hand clasped the door. My heart seemed to stop as a long, lean body unfolded from the interior, stepping out onto the road. The black cloak settled around legs wrapped in dark breeches. A white shirt peeked out from the folds of the cloak. I ceased to breathe as the body turned to where I stood, and I lifted my gaze. Hair a reddish brown in the firelight. A handsome, oval-shaped face and smooth jaw. Full lips not tilted up in a boyish smile like I remembered but settled in a flat line.

Ian.

Oh, gods, it was my brother. But as my gaze continued tracking up to settle on his face, I saw the eyes that’d often shifted from brown to green depending on the light were now a fathomless, pitch-black.

The eyes of an Ascended.

He said nothing as he stared at me, his expression utterly unreadable, and the strained silence stretched between us like a widening gulf.

I felt a crack widening in my chest. My fingers went limp, but Casteel’s hold on my hand didn’t falter. His grip tightened, reminding me that I wasn’t alone, that he believed I could handle this because I could. I forced air into my lungs.

I can do this.

Lifting my chin, I heard myself speak. “Ian.”

There was a twitch of movement around his mouth that could have almost been a flinch as he blinked. “Poppy,” he said. And there went another tear in my heart. His voice was soft and light as air. It was his voice. The corners of his lips tipped up in an almost familiar smile. “I have been so worried.”