Spider obediently settles down, unruffled by the brief interruption to his sleep, but concern gleams in Lightning’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

Misery frowns. “Do you think I don’t know my own mind?”

“No, I just—you’re right. I was just concerned.”

Misery closes her hands over Lightning’s. In the waking world, away from the weaknesses of her mind, she has control of how things go. “It’s nothing to be concerned about. Rest. Tomorrow’s a big day.” Radiating concern of her own, smothering the princess’s worries with softness.

Ruin hovers, verdant with amusement. The angel offers no judgment; hir duty done, zie merely watches the chosen of the Forge upon their path. “You make the most interesting choices, Misery Nomaki,” zie says. Teeth shining like bones at the bottom of a lake bed.

CHAPTER 26

In the morning the silver blade of a holy ship arrives under the arches of the station. As promised, I Will, class-A diplomatic transport, personal vessel of the Archbishop of Remus, comes in like an asteroid, streaking light across the sky. In her quarters, muscles sore from exertion and neck stiff from interrupted sleep, Misery is greeted first thing by the red bleat of a system message. The Archbishop wishes to see her.

The summons are not evenly distributed; of Ono-Red 2, only Lightning, Diamond, and Misery make their way to the command ring. They’re headed to the fanciest meeting room this time. Silence reigns in the long elevator ride to the top. The shadows under their eyes speak for themselves, and the distance between each of their bodies feels deliberate. Exhaustion gleams in Diamond’s expression, flecked with uncertainty. So much has happened. So much is yet to come.

In a long room with a long table slotted with holy opal, Misery meets the Archbishop of Remus again. Tall and slender and draped in deep red that interrogates their milky skin, Pyrex Imogen looks exactly the same as they did when Misery last saw them. Framed by starlight and holding court over the vast room, the gravitational center for all the attention in the room. But it’s not the same. In the Capital, they had been the adult and Misery the child; those roles no longer apply. The Archbishop regards Misery like someone expecting a long-awaited present. The yearning takes years off their face. Next to them is the Duke of Apis, shining with rapture, and on the other side are General Tsung and Major Reyes. The troupe of sedition, now complete.

“It’s good to see you,” says the Archbishop, quiet as quicksand. “Much has changed since we last met.”

“It has,” Misery says.

“Argan filled me in on the details. What you have done is extraordinary. It seems the prophecy has come to pass.”

“It will come to pass,” she says, a mild correction. She has barely begun her journey; the hardest work is ahead.