“Galen—”

“Would be eaten alive by the throne, and you know it.” Pain warped Foldrey’s face, but it was brief. He continued, his voice softer, more determined. “Trust me when I say this is not what I wanted. But after I’m done, we’ll have a new world. A just world. We’ll have trade regulations that make sense, an education system that serves everyone, not just the privileged. And finally, we will have peace.” He held her stare. “What are the lives of the few for the future of the many?”

And for the first time Ranka understood.

Here was a boy raised in northern Isodal, who’d watched witches hunt humans and humans hunt witches, all fighting over the same resources, the same scraps of land, tearing themselves to pieces. So he’d made his way south, to serve a king and make a difference, only to be a tool of war. He had loved the king’s children and sheltered them and protected them, even as he understood that their lives ensured a broken treaty would continue the cycle again and again. The Bloodwinn treaty had merely been a bandage on an already-rotting wound.

And then along had come winalin, and Ongrum with it. The perfect weapon, and the perfect fool. She’d never stood a chance against him—not Foldrey, with his uniform and ideals and polished words. Foldrey with his promises, his ability to make you feel like he understood.

But that had been his mistake. Foldrey had forgotten Ongrum was a witch. He’d viewed Ongrum as nothing more than an uneducated woman from the north who he could manipulate as he pleased. Foldrey had expected Ongrum to follow his rules—human rules—not understanding Ongrum would set herself on fire, if only to ensure her enemies ended up ablaze too.

There was no logic with her—only a relentless, brutal battle for every scrap of power she could find.

And even now, he didn’t regret it.

Foldrey was going to burn it all down—the treaty, the Council, the country—to protect the twins and the land they ruled over. Ranka had ruined his plans for the twins never to know of his involvement. Now this was his only option. So he’d ship them away and attempt to pick up the pieces of the country he’d broken.

Save them, though they’d hate him. Take the reins Galen could never bear, to ensure the violence he’d known as a child wasn’t repeated.

Is it worth it?

There’d be no changing Foldrey’s mind, she realized.

I have loved them, more than I ever had a right to.

To him, it was. It always would be.

What could she say to that? Hadn’t she been willing to burn down the world to protect the ones she loved? Wasn’t she still?