I could not help but notice the gold-inlaid flame carved into the front of the bench behind him. The Great Flame: Anahera’s fire.

“Some of you may remember,” he said, “that I campaigned against the Mira Treaty.”

The way he spoke the name struck a shiver down my back. I fought to stay collected, training my gaze on the wall straight ahead of me while I counted noorestones; I couldn’t look at them, not without drawing attention to myself, so I touched them with my gift—not enough to make them do anything, but enough that their inner fire ran through me, warming me beneath the strange, magical clothes. With every mental touch to a noorestone, the anxiety eased.

“People often ask why I was so adamantly against the treaty. After all, its goals were noble. It was the first effort within living memory of all the islands working together. But I’ll admit: I didn’t think we could do it. I didn’t believe that the people of the Fallen Isles could put aside their differences long enough to make a difference. But I was not high magistrate at that time, so I was overruled.

“For years,” he went on, “it’s been an unpopular stance to admit. The first time I ran for high magistrate, my opposition reminded everyone at every opportunity. It haunted me all through my first term, but by then I could not deny the good the treaty had done. I am proud to see Hartans independent. I am proud of what we’ve accomplished with our sanctuaries. And I am proud that—for years—we were six nations united.

“Yet, for all our effort, good intentions, and hard-fought accomplishments, the Great Abandonment is upon us. This we cannot deny. Not while the god shadow swings across the islands every evening. Not while Hartan-born are still being discriminated against. Not while council-house attacks slaughter hundreds of innocent people. Not while—as you’ve all seen firsthand—even my own streets here in Flamecrest require martial law to keep the peace.”

My breath caught, and fifty noorestones flickered—just for a heartbeat, and I let them go as soon as I realized, but it was enough. Everyone looked around and murmured: How strange, was it the gods? But when it didn’t happen again, they went back to looking at the high magistrate.

Aaru caught my eye, his worry clear.

I glanced down and I tapped against my sword hilt. ::We know he set the explosions for the night the others arrived. Could he be behind the deportation decree as well? And the council house?::

::And Idris?:: Aaru gave me a look that made it clear he thought that was unlikely.

::He didn’t try to save any islands by spreading out the dragons. He tried to take them all. Maybe he didn’t target Idris, but he did nothing to prevent a god from rising.::

Aaru’s expression darkened.

The high magistrate was still talking, but it was hard to hear him over the buzzing in my ears. I reached again for a noorestone, just one this time, and let its hum work through me; the panic eased into something manageable, something I could endure even without my calming pills.