“You look awful,” Cass remarked when Dorian emerged in the street outside Sephone’s parents’ house with the Mardell twins and Jewel. There was a hint of smoke in the air, and Cass had drawn both his blades, but the street was as empty as it had been that morning.

Dorian bit down on a retort. The swelling would remain for a while, and right now he didn’t care. He had armed himself with every weapon in his possession. Odiseas would remain to guard his son and protect his wife, but Spartan had chosen to come with them.

Dorian was yet to see the lad draw a weapon. Did he, like Bas, prefer to fight with his fists? Or did he prefer not to fight at all?

Cass’s eyes were still on Dorian, and when he noticed Sephone’s pendant hanging from Dorian’s neck, heat built in them. “Pretty necklace, Thane.”

He didn’t have time for the lumen’s mockery. Extending his staff, Dorian swept past Cass and followed the smoke. Ignis had attacked Nyx. Which meant that Ignis didn’t have Sephone, somebody else did.

Or he had Sephone but had decided to attack Nyx anyway.

They didn’t have to go far before they found the battle. Cries and screams reached them long before they entered the marketplace, and several people passed them, their faces streaked with terror.

“Run!” a man hollered at Dorian’s group, his long blond hair sticking out in all directions. “They are here!”

Thick, dense smoke filled the streets until it felt as if they were breathing soot. And then they saw the flames: several blazes of different colors, sweeping through buildings as if they were merely tinder. People streamed from houses clutching their children and belongings. Some of them had tattered clothing, and when they were closer, Dorian saw vicious burns on arms, legs, and faces.

“Looks like Ignis is having fun,” muttered Cass.

Dorian thought of Sephone’s burned arm. Was she somewhere in this chaos? Had Ignis already found her?

“Come on.” He tightened his grip on his staff and reached for his gift. It would be useless to him, but for the others . . . Bas hitched his shoulders a little higher, and Bear raised his crossbow.

As they drew even nearer to the marketplace, they heard the shrieks of men and horses—Lord Grennor’s soldiers, presumably, along with Lady Xia’s men and whoever else Lethe’s capital had sent to defend them. Ignoring the warning in his head, Dorian made directly for the center of the fray, Jewel loping along beside him with her teeth bared. Still, his heart quailed when he finally saw what they faced.

From the thickest part of the smoke emerged an enormous creature that was halfway between a lion and a wolf. Standing higher than a horse, its jaws dripped black poison; its lithe, muscular body was made for strength as well as speed. Judging by its iridescent black mane, it was either a shapeshifting alter or simply an altered animal. Its teeth were nearly as long as one of Cass’s blades, and just as lethal.

As they watched in horror, one of Lord Grennor’s soldiers bellowed a war cry and plunged his sword into the beast’s flank. The beast turned sharply, and there was a flash of black. The man cried out once, then was still. It was then that Dorian saw what the beast’s bulk had concealed: a pack of Nightmares, two dozen at least, their gold eyes appearing almost yellow against their inky-black coats.

“By all the old gods,” breathed Cass from beside him. “I expected alters, but this—”

Jewel snarled and leaped forward, and Dorian followed. The lion-wolf had melted into the smoke again, but the Nightmares had seen Dorian and sprinted toward him. He twirled his staff to either side, feeling the impact of the iron tips against hard, muscled bodies. Jewel was everywhere at once, lunging and clawing and biting, and in the corner of his vision, he saw her rip out the throat of a Nightmare just barely smaller than herself. Her maw was already wet with blood.

He flinched as a Nightmare came too close, its claws raking his calf before he turned and rammed it between the eyes with his staff, killing it instantly. Seeing a wolf lunge at his arm, he drew a knife and sank it into the beast’s neck, narrowly missing the jaws that had been about to close over his hand.

He whirled around. There were humans, too, as well as beasts, distinguished by their iridescent features. One woman with pearl-like, nearly translucent teeth fought four soldiers on her own with only a slim, curved blade. Though the smallest of the soldiers was twice her size, she was more than a match for them. One man collapsed, dead, while another two were pushed back, swiping at the air in front of them as if they had run into thick cobwebs. She impaled the fourth on her small blade. With a chill, Dorian realized the soldiers had been blinded.

Another alter, fighting near her, had no weapon at all. But when he twisted his gloved arms, two soldiers were jerked into the air, as if snatched upward by invisible hands, their bodies contorting into unnatural poses before plummeting to the ground, where they screamed and clutched their heads.

“My lord,” panted Bas from behind Dorian. “There are too many; we should fall back.”

“To where?” his brother demanded. “They’re already inside the gates.”

Dorian spun around, looking for Asa—Ignis. If he could find this foul army’s commander and convince him that they didn’t have Sephone, perhaps Ignis would stand down. In the meantime, he would do what he could to protect his friends. He had lost sight of Spartan, but Cass was fighting nearby with a man in black armor.

At first, the man appeared completely ordinary, but then he raised his right hand and coal-black smoke poured from his palm, engulfing the two of them. Dorian could have sworn the smoke was shaped like a colony of bats. The man used the diversion to slash at Cass’s unprotected back, and Dorian’s feet propelled him forward of their own volition. He caught the alter’s blade with his staff an inch from Cass’s shoulder, twisted sharply, and smacked the weapon from the man’s hand. Cass whirled and finished the alter off with one of his blades.

“Thanks,” the lumen said between coughs.

Dorian nodded and spun, striking out at a Nightmare who had edged closer while his attention was on Cass. The lumen did the same, and for a moment, they were fighting back-to-back. The smoke was still unnaturally thick. Apparently it hadn’t dissipated with the death of its creator.

“Thane, look,” Cass rasped when they had a moment to catch their breath. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

Dorian followed his pointing finger to a red-cloaked figure, who was tossing orange-sized balls of flame at his opponents as casually as if he were playing catch and not invading a city.

Trying to stay out of Ignis’s line of sight, Dorian edged closer as man after man came at the alter, only to explode in flames. Beyond Ignis, he glimpsed Lord Grennor, wielding what looked like a pair of axes, and Lady Xia releasing fire-tipped arrows into a cluster of Nightmares from a large bow. Some of his earlier anger toward her faded at her bravery.

He had almost reached Ignis when something midway between a roar and a howl tore apart the night. The wolf-lion? He could barely see anything through the smoke. The men nearest Dorian dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, stuffing their fingers in their ears, and even the Nightmares whimpered at the sound.

Dorian’s staff clattered to the ground. Wincing at the pain in his ears but drawing his knife, Dorian lunged at Ignis just as the man turned, a ball of crimson fire balanced in his palm. With astonishing speed, the alter threw the ball in his direction, and some subconscious part of him braced for the impact.

But it was not red light which splintered his vision, but blinding white, as a wall of shimmering crystal appeared in front of him like a shield, knocking him backward. Ignis’s fireball hit its exterior and dissipated as if it had been nothing more than a cup of water. Then the shield-wall dissolved, leaving only empty space between Dorian and the man who’d just tried to kill him.

Still dazzled by the light, Dorian scrambled up, and glancing around, saw the acolyte with his palms raised in front of him.

“That was y-you?” he stammered. “You—”

“It isn’t real fire,” Spartan said, as if that explained everything.

“It still burns.” Ignis stood boldly. “As you will soon discover.” He clapped his hands, and this time a violet sphere appeared. He raised the sphere, but Spartan stepped in front of Dorian.

“Nay, Asa,” he said, holding up his hands. “He isn’t your enemy.”

“Move aside, boy,” Ignis snarled, then halted abruptly. His face darkened. “What did you call me?”

“Asa. You are Asa Karthick.”

“Not even my father calls me that.” He glowered. The smoke cleared slightly, and he took in the acolyte’s shaven head, glistening with red stubble. He held up the violet sphere like a lantern. His eyes widened. “Jerome?”

Spartan nodded.

“It can’t be,” Asa said, disbelief on his face, and Dorian recalled the brothers had only met once. “You’re dead.”

“We have both spent half our lives going by other names,” was Spartan’s soft answer. “I am called Spartan now, but I was once Jerome Karthick. Your brother.”

“I don’t believe it.” Asa’s voice was rigid.

Another roar-howl split the air, almost as loud as the first, and a shadow appeared behind Asa, towering over the young alter. But Asa didn’t so much as flinch, even when poison dripped from the beast’s fangs onto the cobbles, and its breath plumed sickly yellow. It was clearly waiting for Asa’s command.

Dorian gripped the hilt of his knife. “Can your shields protect us from that?” he whispered to Spartan. The calmness he usually felt in the boy’s presence was rapidly dissolving.

“Take heart,” Spartan told him. “We are not alone in this fight.”

Asa was studying Dorian. “I know your face well,” he declared. “Lord Adamo.”

Dorian stepped forward despite the monstrous presence. “What have you done with Sephone?”

“Sephone?” Asa scowled. “I gave her my word, but apparently it wasn’t enough to persuade her.” He glanced at the battle still raging around them. “I wouldn’t have harmed her, or anyone in Nyx, if she’d only done as we agreed.”

Dorian studied him, then lowered his knife. “Sephone vanished this morning on the way to meet you. We haven’t seen her since.”

Asa looked at him derisively. “You expect me to believe that, Lord Adamo?”

“It’s the truth.”

Asa’s eyes flickered. “Perhaps she ran away from both of us.”

“Nay, she had made her choice.” He thought of the letter still in Brinsley’s possession. “She was coming to you.”

Bright green ribbons appeared around him, tangling with the smoke. Simultaneously, Cass spoke from behind Dorian. “He’s telling the truth, Karthick.”

Asa watched the ribbons intently, frowning. “You’re the lumen?” he asked, addressing Cass. “The truth-revealer?”

“Unfortunately.”

The wolf-lion growled, a rumble in its throat that was so deep it shook the earth beneath their feet. Spartan remained where he was, his eyes trained on his brother.

Asa closed his fist and the fireball vanished. Glancing up at the beast, he murmured something.

The beast’s body shuddered and rippled, and the next moment, its flesh was dissolving and reforming into a far smaller figure. Dorian blinked, and in the beast’s place stood an enchantingly beautiful woman with long, curly hair as black as Cass’s, though hers shone purple-blue instead of purple-green.

Cass uttered an oath as Dorian recognized her. It was the same woman who had once tricked Cass into leaving with her, only to turn on him and watch idly as he was robbed and beaten by her male accomplice.

The woman smiled faintly but said naught. Asa’s expression, however, bore a hint of pride. “Aye, Zaire has long been tailing you. On my orders.”

Dorian didn’t miss the affectionate look Zaire sent Asa’s way—or the tender look he gave her in return. Clearly, Sephone had been right in her assessment that Asa was in love with someone else. And although Zaire looked as if she could devour Lord Draven whole in her beastly form, the elder Karthick had evidently found a way to bind the altered woman to his service, despite the fact that his plans clearly involved a different partner for his son.

“You looked better as a beast,” Cass said sourly, glaring at Zaire. “You know—”

“There was another man following us around that time,” Dorian interrupted him. “A hooded man, all in black—tall and thin. Was he one of yours?”

Asa and Zaire exchanged questioning glances.

“Nay.” Asa shook his head. “He wasn’t ours.”

Dorian debated sharing Brinsley’s revelation that the hooded man had taken Sephone, then he reconsidered. Just because Asa appeared to have a conscience didn’t mean he was on their side. If he’d had his way, Sephone would have been his captive, too.

But the night was still full of screams, and Dorian knew he had to speak quickly or more innocent people would die.

“Now that you know the truth, Asa, you can end this attack.” He indicated Asa’s alters—several of whom had powers he hadn’t yet determined—and the Nightmares closing in on the survivors. Lord Grennor and Lady Xia’s soldiers were holding them back, but barely. If they didn’t act soon, the city would burn to the ground.

“My father’s army will be here come morning, Lord Adamo,” Asa replied. “And I can do naught to hold them at bay.”

Dorian felt a hint of desperation. Wondering if it was fear of his father’s cruelty that kept Asa captive, he reached out with his calor gift, hoping to embolden the young man to their side. “But you made an agreement with Sephone, and if she could have, she would have kept her word. Will you not keep yours?”

Zaire’s mouth pursed. Asa looked at her, then quickly away. It was impossible to tell if either of them was affected by his gift—or to what end. Zaire pressed a hand to her side, and a tiny furrow appeared between her brows. Her fingers, Dorian could easily see, were wet with blood. Had the beast been more grievously injured than he first thought, or did her wounds affect her to a greater degree in her human form?

Asa glanced at her again, concern etched in the lines of his mouth.

“He doesn’t have to know,” Spartan told his brother, and Dorian wondered if by he, the acolyte meant the elder Karthick. “You’ve already fought fiercely and bravely.”

“Who’s this?” Zaire scrutinized Spartan more closely from beneath delicately arched, ebony-black brows.

“My little brother,” Asa replied dryly. “I’m assuming you’re on their side, Jerome?”

“I am on nobody’s side,” was Spartan’s reply. “But I will help protect this city from our father. And from you, if I have to.”

“You would choose strangers over your own family?”

“I’m not your enemy, Asa. I never have been, not even when we were boys. It was our father who invented any enmity between us. I hope you’ll come to see that.”

Asa frowned, but then he turned to Zaire. “Tell the others to retreat. We’ll fight our way back to the walls and rejoin my father’s army outside the city when they arrive.”

She nodded and slipped away, Cass still glowering after her. Asa leveled his eyes on Dorian. “The next time we meet, Thane of Maera, I will not show such mercy, regardless of any promises I may have made in the past.”

“I would expect nothing less from a son of Draven.”

Wolves bayed shrilly all around them. Presumably, Zaire had returned to her beast form and given the order to retreat. It was difficult to discern Asa’s expression through all the smoke, but his eyes were hard.

“I will see you on the battlefield, brother,” he said to Spartan, and then he was gone.

Dorian expelled a sigh of relief and looked around for Jewel and the Mardell twins. The wolf was chasing one of the Nightmares toward the city gate, Bear following with the bellow of a somewhat belated war cry. Bas was helping an injured soldier to his feet. The soldier’s arm was missing, and Dorian shuddered at the mental image of Zaire’s deadly claws and teeth, cleaving bone as easily as flesh. From all around them came a chorus of moans and anguished cries. He hoped none of them belonged to Lord Grennor or Lady Xia.

Spartan hurried to help an injured man lying a short distance away, and Dorian watched him. The boy had saved his life. And it was because of him that Dorian had been able to plead Nyx’s case.

Cass stood nearby. “What now, Thane?”

What now indeed? They were only alive because Asa Karthick had proven himself a man of honor and called off the attack. He, Dorian, was only alive because of Spartan’s interference. He was once again reminded that his gifts were far better suited to peacetime than to war: courage, languages, empathy. Unlike Sephone’s gifts, they were of no real use in battle, unless he could live long enough to diffuse a situation. Cass was most likely also grappling with the uncomfortable realization.

“We tend to the wounded,” Dorian answered, “and we prepare for a siege.” They would have to strengthen their defenses. Hopefully they would last until the Letheans finished work on the ancient weapons. But that thought was no more comforting than the prospect of a long stay behind high walls.

After cleaning his blades, Cass returned them to his boots. “And Sephone?”

“We do whatever we can to find her before it’s too late.”

They were both fully aware of what that meant. If Sephone’s captor didn’t kill her, the poison soon would.

“You’ll go to the ends of the earth for her, then?” Cass asked, eyebrow arched.

“Wouldn’t you?”

A tense, heavy pause, and then Cass nodded. “You know I would.” His eyes narrowed at the pendant resting against Dorian’s breast. “But I must ask, Thane, and you owe me an honest answer. Do you go as for a sister or for a woman?”

He didn’t owe the lumen anything. Yet Dorian had come to understand three things.

The first, that it was curious how, when a person is faced with the full truth, their first instinct is always to attempt to discredit it. The second was that over an extended period of time, it becomes easier and easier for a person to lie about themselves.

And the third was that, even in a situation where a lie would immediately be revealed as a falsehood—for example, by being in the presence of a truth-revealing lumen—it was still nearly impossible for a person that far gone to tell the truth.

“A sister,” Dorian said firmly.

Though for all those reasons he had just reflected on, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, he was still taken aback when the ribbons that curled between him and Cass were not green, but black.