“So, I’ll repeat myself,” she continued, walking forward as she raised her voice. “These people have nothing to do with what was done. They are innocent. Stop this, or I will stop you.”

Innocent.

Behind her, people scattered into the dirty streets, rushing toward the Rise. They carried nothing but themselves and screaming, red-faced children. They were just mortals caught between the Blood Crown and me, and I could see from where I stood, that the gate to the city was closed.

And I knew that the Ascended who still remained within wouldn’t open it. They would’ve already done that if any of them had been like…like Ian. I sucked in a broken breath as I stared at the people crowding the gates of the larger Rise, their fear a pulsing mass.

I was not what Alastir and the Unseen claimed.

I was nothing like the deities they feared.

And I sure as hell wasn’t like my mother.

“I’m sorry,” the Handmaiden said, and my gaze snapped back to her as a jagged tremor rocked me. “I really am. I knew Ian. I liked him. He wasn’t like…a lot of the others.”

Despite the grief and the rage tearing its way through me, I focused on her, opening my senses. That ability still worked as it had before because I knew I was reading her emotions. I could taste them—the tartness of uncertainty and the bitterness of sorrow.

“But you need to leave. The Blood Crown has already left here. No one remains who played a role in what happened.”

“Except for you,” I countered.

There was a slight wince. “Did you have a choice when you were the Maiden?”

I stared at the Handmaiden. She could’ve struck me with one of the shadowstone arrows at any point, and I doubted she would’ve missed. But she hadn’t. She stood between me and the villagers outside the city, the poorest among those who called Solis home. Not between me and the Ascended.

My...Coralena had been different, hadn’t she? She’d been a Handmaiden—one of those Revenant things—but she had taken Ian and I away from Isbeth. She’d loved Leopold. I remembered how they’d looked at each other. I thought of the look on this Handmaiden’s face when she’d been summoned to prove what a Revenant was—the wave of hopeless desperation and then the feeling of surrender. Emotions I had been painfully well-acquainted with. And I thought of how Prince Malik had behaved when Isbeth had called her forth. He’d stepped forward and then seemed to stop himself. I wondered how many times she’d been used for show and tell, and then I decided I didn’t care.

It took every ounce of my self-control, but I pulled the energy back to me. The static charge of power faded from the air around me. The wind eased, and the trees stopped groaning behind me. “Where is she taking him?” I demanded, taking a step forward. The Handmaiden’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re thinking about firing the arrow, you’d better aim true,” I warned. “I don’t need eather to fight you. I imagine that regrowing sliced limbs and a head is quite the painful process.”