“How did you know?”

“Your nose always scrunches when she’s in your head, especially when she’s about to lose her mind.”

I am not losing my mind!

“She is definitely losing her mind,” Fox confirmed.

“Well, tell her not to worry. Shadi’s keeping a lookout, and Mykkie’s keeping nearby asha distracted.”

You brought Mykkie into this?!

“She volunteered, actually,” Fox said, defending them. “This isn’t as harebrained a scheme as you might think, even if Zoya thought it up.”

“Oh, ha. Ha-ha. You’re going to regret that.” Zoya held a book aloft, triumphant. “I take apologies as payment in paloodeh. With extra cantaloupe.”

The Blight rune?

“Well, not exactly,” she admitted when Fox asked, “but we found the next best thing.” She turned the volume over to my brother, and in his mind, I gasped.

“It’s the same unnamed book we found in Istera,” Zoya said. “Not as decrepit as the one there, so I’m guessing this is a later copy. But it’s an unaltered version, with the foreword written by Vernasha of the Roses intact. Hestia can no longer claim ignorance about shadowglass—not only does she have the original legend here, but it also contains Vernasha’s letter in all its bigoted glory.”

• • •

It was evening by the time Lady Mykaela and Mistress Parmina arrived at the dungeons. Neither looked happy. They received Zoya’s revelation with grim satisfaction but, as Althy put it, “it’s enough proof for us to realize their meddling, though not enough for the public to believe the same.” She rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “It’s not enough to accuse the elders of conspiring to steal Mykkie’s heartsglass. The best we can do is obstruction, perhaps, but they can always claim they were withholding information in good faith. Whether or not they were responsible for the blighted is another thing entirely. We can’t accuse them without more objective evidence.”

“They accused Tea without evidence,” Zoya grumbled. “Why can’t we do the same?”

“Because people tend to believe those who are in charge, no matter how ridiculous or corrupt they may be,” Mykaela told her gently. “Who would you believe—an asha council with centuries-old roots in the kingdom and a reputation for justice and order or a bone witch you’ve been taught to fear all your life?”

“I—I would think I’d know the difference.” Zoya looked troubled.

“Most people would like to believe that about themselves, yes.” Mykaela sank wearily into a chair. “But we have been conditioned to obey authority in subtle manners, Zoya. You would be surprised at how very few actually speak up in the face of injustice.”

After a pause, she continued, “We’ve discovered who Sancha al-Sarim is. She was a runeberry picker from Murkwick village.”

“I’ve only been to Murkwick once,” I protested. “Several years ago. You’d taken us there from Knightscross after I’d raised Fox.”