Why did she even want that so badly? If she returned home and kept the Skra safe, winalin would do their work for them. So why did her eyes now burn with the prospect of a cure? Hadn’t Ongrum trained her better than this? If she knew of the weakness Ranka felt right now—of the way she cowered before these humans and hid her nails—she’d be disgusted.

And yet. A cure gave her options. It gave her a choice.

She tried not to think about the fact that there shouldn’t have been a choice to make to begin with.

Another man stepped forward. On his chest gleamed a single gold pin.

“For too long we’ve lived in fear,” the man called. The crowd quieted. “Bell’s Corridor is still wet with blood. Our own neighbors are dead. We starve as fields burn from a seven-month drought. And what has the prince done? Nothing.”

A murmur rose among the humans. A pale blond woman broke away, and from a satchel at her hip she began to draw out fistfuls of gold pins. To Ranka’s horror, she began offering them to the people gathered around her. No one turned her down.

“The Skybreaker prince feasts while we starve,” the man said. “He throws parades but won’t call the rains. The Council raises taxes and nobles cut our pay. They ignore our pleas and murder our priests for protecting the streets they neglect. They don’t care about us! They never have!”

The woman worked her way through the crowd, weaving through throngs of adults and children alike. They donned the pins one by one, until a dozen, two dozen, three dozen chests gleamed gold. A part of Ranka supposed it was brilliant—something as small as a gold pin could be donned and cast aside in a heartbeat. It allowed the Hands to materialize one second and disappear the next.

Ranka turned to Foldrey. “I’m in.”

Percy’s eyes widened and he caught her arm. “Hold on. You can’t mean for us to go there alone.”

“Who said anything about us? I’ll bring her back myself.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Percy gave her a light shake. “Think, you big oaf. I want a cure as badly as you do—but we’re about to be in the middle of a witch-burning frenzy. Even if you can subdue the witch, how are you going to contain her? How are you going to bring her back?”

“I’ll figure it out—”

“That’s not good enough,” Percy snapped, his voice breaking. “You tried that before, and you nearly got you and Galen both killed. This isn’t just about you anymore, Ranka! Maybe you don’t care if you throw your life away, but some of us do, okay? You don’t get to be reckless anymore. You need to think, because you need to come back.”