As they dismounted, Emris said, “I’ll have to report to the First Huntsman—and you should see the healer. You’ll find one on duty in the office by the training rooms. Meet me in the map room afterward? I could use a nightcap.” He smiled, and Lena felt warm inside all over again.

In the map room—empty, as always—Lena sank into her favorite chair in front of the fire and sipped on a goblet of wine. The blue-clad healer had sealed the small wound on her head and prescribed a draught of restorative medicine in a cup of wine and a good night’s sleep.

Now, in spite of everything, Lena felt safe, peaceful, and warm. And yet … she played over the Radical’s words. She wasn’t a Radical, he’d said, but she wasn’t a mage either. Despite Emris’s reassurances, she couldn’t help thinking the Radical had been about to tell her something important before he was silenced forever.

And then there was Lord Chatham, promising answers about her butterfly. Would he be able to guess what the Radical had been about to say? Perhaps there was something in her that the temples would never quite understand. Chaos? Despite the routine she’d fallen into, and her comfortable friendship with Emris, she still felt uneasy every time she stepped into Faul’s temple—as if the god were watching her suspiciously, rather than watching over her as he was supposed to do. What are the gods, anyway? she wondered. How can they be so different from Chaos? They’re beings of magic too, aren’t they?

And still the Ancestors waited in her nightmares, always on the edge of her consciousness. Angry. Vengeful at her betrayal.

At that thought, she set down her goblet and tipped in the small vial of medicine. When she sipped again, the wine tasted sour, so she threw her head back and swallowed it in two big gulps. Then she rested her head against the wing of the chair and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, Emris was gently shaking her awake.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said softly.

“Oh … I didn’t realize…” She stood up, feeling foolish and bleary as he led her toward the guest room door. Her neck ached where it had rested to one side against the wing of the chair.

“I have some news for you, Lena,” he said, stopping on the threshold. “The Council has decided about your test. It’s the day after tomorrow.”

“The day after tomorrow?” She was abruptly wide-awake. “But … that’s really soon. I’ve only been training for a few days!”