He cleared his throat. “Even when you gain control of your powers, even when you can prove it … because you’re a Rogue, they’ll never really trust you.” He sounded bitter. “How can you ever really trust someone who lived so long with Chaos? I mean, it’s more than that. Up until fifty-odd years ago, there was no distinction at all between Rogue and Radical. Some people still think it should be that way.” He sipped his water. “I just think you should know … it’s not going to be easy.”

“The First Huntsman mentioned this too,” she said.

Emris smiled slightly. “But he doesn’t understand what it’s like. Not really.”

Lena nodded. Although the information itself was no surprise, it felt different hearing it from Emris. “You’re the Third Huntsman though. Isn’t that a position of trust? I thought it meant you were third in command?”

Emris shook his head. “It’s not quite like that. Like many of the other temples, Faul’s is a meritocracy up to a point—I’m the third most powerful huntsman in the temple. But even if one day I’m the most powerful mage in the temple, I’ll never be allowed to make decisions. I know that now—although I didn’t in the beginning. For years I aspired to a position of leadership. But it’s never going to happen.”

Lena sat silently, the sweat cooling under her clothes. Unlike Emris, she hadn’t imagined herself staying here. She hadn’t really imagined her future at all—not since Vigo’s version of it was laid to rest forever. But now she had to start imagining it, didn’t she? She looked across at Emris. She longed to be accepted for who she was, to find her place in the world—but it didn’t seem like that’s what he had found in the temple at all.

Maybe I won’t find it here either. Lord Chatham’s card flickered in her mind.

She shook the image from her head. She was growing to like Emris, and now that he’d told her something difficult, something true, she was even starting to trust him a little. If he said she should be afraid of Chatham, perhaps he was right. Besides, she couldn’t shake off the memory of how the man had looked at her before he’d known she was a Rogue, the mingled disgust and dismissal in his eyes, so familiar from her life in Duke’s Forest. “Where were you before you came here?” she asked, changing the subject. “The First Huntsman said you were old for a Rogue. He said it was impressive you were still in control of your powers.”