“Are you okay? After the attack? Were you or Thorne injured?” Her features are etched, and I soften at her genuine interest in my well-being.

“I’m fine, and so is Thorne. Lunaria took a very shallow cut, but Thorne healed it instantly. Other than frustration that the rebels got away, I’m well.” I look around the room to see if we’re alone. When I spot none but the Velmarans, I ask Silene about her strategy in a hushed voice. “You put the pieces together, right? About the rebels being tipped off?”

She gives me a triumphant smile. “Of course. It’s obvious there’s someone else on the Council feeding them information.”

“Then why did you bring up the letter?” I ask. Again, that sly and winning smile breaks across her features.

“Because I wanted to make whoever it is think we aren’t on to them. Clearly, they spotted our strategic leaks and didn’t spill those but still told the rebels we were coming. Let’s see what happens now that we pretend we believe the letter caused the relocation.” I nod, and I want to ask her who she suspects, want to ask her about Carex. My suspicion of him is only growing, but I’m not ready to make that accusation aloud. We’ll need to proceed carefully around him. I sigh involuntarily, rubbing my temples from the headache forming. Silene hugs me.

“Will you come have dinner with us tomorrow? We have something special planned,” she asks. Thorne’s eyes widen at her, but she keeps her focus trained on me.

“Of course.” She practically leaps with excitement before prancing away, hauling Fionn behind her as she leaves the room.

Hours later, Thorne and I are together in my sitting room, the late afternoon light spilling over us as he attempts to cheer me up by teaching me various small magic tricks—the kind that children learn to pass the time and show off for one another. My failure to take out the rebels made my chest tight, and as usual, Thorne immediately noticed and whisked us into my rooms to “hang out,” as he had so casually said.

He creates animal shapes with light, having them dance across the ceiling while I laugh in delight. He scoffs when I immediately master the ability to make light shoot out of my eyes in rounded beams. We end the session in stitches as we shoot huge balls of light at each other that do no damage. It’s friendly and normal, though I can’t shake my feeling of disappointment.