Fain pushes back his chair, picks up his wineglass, and rises, looking around at all of us. “A toast,” he says with great import as he raises his glass. “To Edwin Gardner. Who I was blessed to know.” His voice catches as we all raise wineglasses and tea mugs.

Fain looks to me and Or’myr, emotion filling his gaze. “Edwin would have been so happy to see you two together...to see all of us together. Your parents too...they would have been overjoyed and so gratified.”

There are tears all around as we drink to Edwin, the floral taste of my tea mingling with my tears as we pay tribute to my courageous uncle. My kind uncle. And, in the end, my completely defiant uncle.

And pay tribute, as well, to my parents, Vale and Tessla Gardner.

Who died fighting for a better world.

“Uncle Edwin...he died so that we could make it here.” I look to Trystan, my face damp with tears, but the press of the Wand against my calf a solid comfort.

I glance out the huge window we’re leaning against, the two of us sitting alone on my bedroom’s indigo window seat, the night-darkened view overlooking an impossible drop to the Vo River. My room is dark as well, all light snuffed out in case any Vu Trin fly by.

I peer down. Vothe is standing guard a story below us beside a military rune skiff on the estate’s broad terrace, the black expanse of the river spread out beyond him. And beyond that, the glowing blue line of the border wall and the mammoth Vo Mountains, the storm band above it flickering with gauzy bursts of lightning.

Trystan’s hand glides over mine and I grasp it tightly, the evening’s revelations swirling through my mind. “Why does Wrenfir have a spider and a raven tattooed across his face and neck?” I ask, meeting my brother’s steady gaze.

Trystan is silent for a moment, and I can see it flickering in his eyes—my brother’s usual reluctance to speak for another about private things. “You could ask him yourself,” he gently suggests.

“He doesn’t seem like the most approachable person—”

“Like Ariel?” There’s a hint of challenge in the words, and I feel instantly chastened as a pang of grief for Ariel twists at my heart.

“Yeah. Like Ariel.”