“It won’t take Aaru all day to get ready, and Hristo will return in time.” Chenda strode toward the bedroom door. “Let’s go.”

Ilina set her jaw. “When they do get back with him, we’re wrapping a chain around the closet doorknobs. He won’t escape again.”

“Flawless plan.” I was still furious at Altan for escaping, but Chenda was right. What could I do besides get in Hristo and Gerel’s way? They were good at what they did, and I needed to trust them.

Zara, who was leaning on the doorframe, just scowled around the room. “What I want to know is: How did he get out? I didn’t hear anything. Did you?”

I shook my head. “Nothing but your snoring.”

She stuck her tongue out at me.

“Not me,” said Ilina, and Chenda shook her head, too.

“Aaru?” I looked up.

He looked at me.

And I saw it.

There, buried under the trauma of grief, was the truth: he had heard Altan’s escape, and he hadn’t stopped it.

But . . . but Aaru was on our side. He wouldn’t.

He had.

Why? Why would Aaru, of all people, let Altan escape into a city full of innocent people? Aaru knew what Altan was: a monster. Perhaps, sometimes, a useful monster, but a monster nonetheless.

He was the man who’d locked me in my cell all by myself, starving me for four days.

He was the man who’d transferred noorestone fire into Aaru in order to make me talk.

He was the man who’d pursued us across the Fallen Isles—hurting LaLa, stealing Kelsine, destroying the council house, and threatening to kill Aaru on the Chance Encounter.

Altan’s effort to free dragons from the ruins above Flamecrest didn’t make him any less of a monster; it just made him into a monster whose goals occasionally aligned with mine.

Oh.

Aaru’s chest expanded with a long breath, and my question died in my throat, because I suddenly knew why.

The two of them—Aaru and Altan—shared a goal. Or at least they had goals that lined up.

Aaru had a goal that he hadn’t shared with me. But he had shared it with Altan.

Something inside my chest cracked. I turned back to Chenda. “You’re right. We have a lot to do today.”

She looked surprised at my sudden reversal, but she just pressed her hand to my free shoulder. “Don’t worry. Gerel and Hristo will find him. He couldn’t have gotten very far yet, and you know Gerel is the best.”

“At everything.” I forced a smile, but Chenda was underestimating Altan. And we had all underestimated Aaru.

Before she could drag me out of the room, I shot Aaru one last glance over my shoulder, praying I hadn’t made a mistake: I’d just protected his secret instead of telling anyone—including my best friend—that someone might know where Altan had gone.

DISCOMFORT SURROUNDED ME like a fog while I bathed and washed my hair.

Carefully, I combed soft oils through the dark strands, letting moisture soak in. In spite of the nightmare of the last decan, it felt good to take care of myself, to focus on making myself clean and pretty. It also felt like an undeserved luxury during a time when gods were rising and governments were falling, and when our enemies were allies and our friends were . . .