EPILOG

The Tower’s wake happened two weeks after the events in the Westlands, which was just as well, since I spent half that time in bed. The use of the Majeure had burned through whatever reserve energy I had or was capable of replenishing. Those days were just a blur of sleep, protein, and Corbie sneaking stuffed animals onto and off my bed.

There was no way of knowing how much of my and Brand’s life energy I’d used. Ten years? Twenty? I was almost certain I hadn’t eaten more than thirty-seven years, since the effects of that would have been immediately apparent.

Lord Fool had been found. As suspected, he’d been taken prisoner by Lady Time—though the rest of his captivity was a bit of a question mark. He’d somehow wound up working happily in Lady Time’s kitchen, manning the oil fryer. He’d been returned to the Revelry, but, for reasons he declined to share, he showed little interest in reclaiming his lost followers. That was a problem very much in need of a solution.

The Ambersons—those who’d survived Vadik’s leadership of it—were losing their status as a named house. The Arcanum was currently investigating to see whether Vadik had been aided by his remaining family. At the very least, they would be stripped of all stolen sigils or artifacts from Sun Estate. If their culpability ran deeper, the house would be dissolved and all its assets absorbed into Sun Estate. I could have asked for harsher sanctions—I was encouraged to, actually—but the idea of punishing a once-valued ally for the actions of a single asshole grated on me.

There were signs that Warren Saint Anthony—the False Magician—was resisting his loss of power. For the moment, he continued to sit on the Arcanum. Whether he’d segue into a leadership position within the Hex Throne, or begin to operate as an independent principality, was unknown. Ciaran was playing his cards close to his vest. I suspect he wasn’t entirely anxious to become the operational head of a court that was just as much a corporation.

My armory had grown bigger with the absorption of sigils that Vadik had stolen from my father. Well, honestly, my armory was created by it. What that meant, I wasn’t sure. It was a resource over twenty years outside my current experiences. Its return could not have come at a better time, since I was now responsible for the sigil use of others, too.

During my recovery, I read through Lord Tower and Ciaran’s research on the timestream from when they were trying to rescue Addam and me. I understood now that I could have killed myself trying to find Lord Tower. I could have killed myself and Brand.

There was a particular metaphor that helped me understand the sheer task ahead of me.

Time isn’t a physical stretch of space—but if it was, imagining the sheer size of it is almost impossible. Consider everything that was—New Atlantis, the Northern Hemisphere, the solar system, the Milky Way . . . Everything. All of it.

Now multiply that times every second that has ever existed. Because every second in the timestream is as big as all that space. And the next second? It’s as if it contained its own unique copy of all that space. Finding Lord Tower without knowing where he was in the timestream was just not possible. I would have aged to a hundred before I could even comprehend the vastness of the task.

There would be another way to approach the issue. Someday. And I would find it.

I told Zurah and Ciaran about my rent-controlled apartment in LeperCon. The days when I secretly gathered information on the fall of my father’s court were behind me. I saw that now. There were too many people in my life to keep it a secret—and I would not gamble Brand that way. Not anymore. While much of that night would remain a secret between Addam and I, we were far past the point where I could pretend that forces weren’t moving against me.

So Zurah and Ciaran helped me box up the apartment and transfer the investigation to the now-empty Half House. Ciaran didn’t complain about the physical labor once. In point of fact, he came dressed in farm overalls with the name Wayne sewn into the breast pocket.

“And Brand knows nothing about this?” Zurah said in amazement.

We’d just finished moving the boxes into the sanctum, and I’d already created a clear wall space for nine squares drawn in permanent marker. There were now three filled squares. A clipping of Ashton’s face. A photo of Vadik taken by one of the coronation’s photographers. And a pencil sketch of the Forerunner that Addam had drawn for me.

“I told him about the apartment before the pandemic hit. He never saw it, though.”

“Will he now?” she asked.

“I promised him I’d involve him. Soon. Things are moving so fast. A few years ago, I was living off macaroni and cheese. Now my fingerprints are on the fall of three courts.”

“Technically you re-destroyed the Hourglass Throne,” Ciaran said. “Not sure if that counts.” He made a sharp sound of delight and removed a lava lamp from the box he was unpacking.

“Fine,” I sighed, giving it to him with a gesture. “Don’t tell Quinn. It was a set of two, and he got the first, but Corbie snuck it out to Flynn’s paddock, and Flynn ate it.”

“I do adore both the seventies and your domestic woes,” he said. Brushing off the knees of his overalls, he straightened. “I’m going to walk off the house again and look for eavesdroppers one last time, and let you two talk.”

He tapped his way up the spiral staircase. We’d torn Half House apart no less than four times to make sure all the magical listening devices were destroyed.

I broke the short silence by saying, “So. A frost giant, huh?”

She threw back her head and let loose a roaring laugh. “So says the pillar of fire. I expected phoenix wings, at least.”

“Yeah, but what about Anna? That dragon? Points.”

“Points,” she agreed. “For all three of those children. Layne went toe-to-toe with Lady Time. The other has a familiar. Those children are very lucky to have you to train them.”

My smile faded, just a bit. “I want them safe. More than anything. I just hope I can be what they need me to be.”

Zurah left the box she was unpacking and walked across the sanctum floor. She put a hand on my arm. “You have resources you have never had before. Even without Lord Tower.”

“I have enemies I never had before, too.”

“No,” she said firmly. “That is not true. You have always had enemies. You see their rustle in the foliage now only because you are scaring them. Do not forget that.”

I nodded and looked out the window. I’d missed the view of our back yard; it was good for soul-gazing.

After a pause, I said, “I like you.”

“I like you too, little brother.” Her phone buzzed, and she brought it before her. “Ah. The sandwiches I ordered have arrived. Find our erstwhile Lord Magician and meet me in the kitchen.”

As she went downstairs, I went up, where Ciaran was walking the perimeter of my empty, old bedroom.

“Not a smidge remains,” he announced. “I only wish we could have traced a connection beyond that which lay between here and the Warrens warehouse. Perhaps we’ll learn more from the devices there.”

“Thanks for helping me deactivate them.”

He waved off my gratitude. “I’m glad you’ve decided to keep this house. It’s quaint. I’m always impressed when people build on the bones of their past rather than the ashes of it. It makes for a solid foundation.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You are so sweet with your warnings,” he said.

“Why did you return to the Hex Throne?”

He gave me an elegant shrug. “It’s not as if I never felt responsible for it. There are people who depend on it—very smart people who do very smart things, and who make the court an insane amount of money. They deserve safety and protection. And whenever that was jeopardized, it bothered me. Such as when I learned Ashton had found a way to sneak into my Westlands compound. Impudent little shit.”

“That was a while ago. Why now? Why reveal yourself now?”

“For many reasons.” He gave me a bit of side-eye, the sunlight in his eyes flashing across his thick lashes. “But if you’re fishing for how many times your name winds up in my autobiography, then yes, I did this for you, too. I can’t begin to understand the current you are caught in, Rune Sun. But you need friends at your side. I am now in a better position to help.”

I began to say something soppy and awkward, so he raised a nail and waved it at me. “It’s not without its rewards. I get beat up often around you. I get blown off my feet, knocked unconscious, batted into walls . . . I’m really not a good fighter.”

“You pulled the Tower out of the sky,” I reminded him.

“Yes-yes, true, but that’s somewhat the point. When you’re as powerful as I am, you gain a fondness for anything that leaves bruises. I see interesting days ahead, Youngest.”

“Youngest?” I said.

“Too many people call you little brother. Did I hear someone mention food?”

“Yes. Let’s go grab some and talk about prophecy.”

This wasn’t a fade-to-black moment. I could feel his sharp, curious gaze on my back as he followed me down the stairs. Then I wondered which part of my back he was looking at, but when I glanced over my shoulder, he was buffing his nails on his overalls.

As Ciaran moved into the tiny kitchen with Lady Death, I texted the Hermit, saying, “Can we talk?” Then I ran for the chicken salad before I ended up with tuna.

Before I even had time to choose my bag of chips, my phone was beeping back at me. It read: “Now is fine.” There was a brief surge of magic which no one caught except me, because I was waiting for it. Fool-me-twice and all that.

I said, loudly, “Are you on my sofa again?”

“I was invited this time,” Lord Hermit said from the other room.

I walked back through the archway with my sandwich, half of which I put on a plate in front of him. “I’m not sharing my chips,” I said. “You have to earn that sort of love.”

He pushed back his brown cowl and tucked his sandaled feet beneath him. “Unnecessary. And I was expecting your call. I suspect it’s about the prophecy.”

I’d never really studied the Hermit before. Not only was he the oldest Arcana currently serving on the Arcanum, he looked it. I’d never wondered before why he maintained a late-middle-age rejuvenation. For the first time I considered that perhaps he, too, could not regenerate younger.

“Does he do that often?” Lord Hermit said to the others.

“It’s like he’s eyeballing the fattest chicken in the coop, isn’t it?” Ciaran said.

“Look,” I told everyone. “Yes, I want to know about this prophecy. And don’t worry, my expectations are low. Do I save the world? Do I turn evil? If I turn evil, do I have a really cool and scary title?”

Lord Hermit’s smile didn’t exactly reach his eyes, and I began to wonder if I did want to know the answer to the question.

“Zurah, Ciaran, please give us a moment. If Rune wants to discuss this with you afterwards, I will not stop him. But I believe it must be his informed choice.”

Lady Death and Ciaran exchanged a look not unlike any two super-powered beings who could hear through concrete might exchange. They stepped out on the porch and let the screen door slam shut, which sent a fresh wave of pollen into the kitchen.

“I wonder yet if you realize this seat could be yours,” the Hermit said to me.

“You better be talking about the sofa.”

He shrugged. “I lead the Arcanum by law for the interregnum. We must find a long-term leader. Perhaps it’s time for a new voice.”

“Ah, okay. No. I vote for you. All for you. Do you have something you want me to sign?”

“Perhaps it’s best, Rune Sun, if you don’t joke with me. Your humor can be misleading.”

I put my sandwich down on the coffee table and took a seat in the only armchair. My armchair. I couldn’t remember why we hadn’t moved it to Sun Estate yet, but I was glad we hadn’t.

When I was settled, I said, “I’m not ready for that, Lord Hermit. I’m just not. I support you in this role for now. You are wise, and apolitical, and I respect that.”

The Hermit grinned at me. “For now,” he repeated.

I may have colored a little. “I’ll always try to be honest at where I stand.”

Now he laughed. “Oh, you most certainly will not. You are the trickiest Arcana to come along in generations, and don’t think I don’t know it. But that’s well enough. If you end up playing games with me, I’ll likely deserve it. You have a rather consistent moral compass, Rune Sun.”

He folded his hands in his lap and added, “Very well. Leadership issues aside, you wanted to speak.”

“I did. About a couple things. I want to return the battleship to America, for instance.”

“Indeed,” he murmured. “You wish them to know why we have it?”

“Oh, gods no. Not even a little. But we can come up with a story that makes sense. The ship should be with them. And those sailors should be laid to rest in family plots. Is that the sort of thing I need to run by the Arcanum?”

“It is, but as you were awarded the ship in a formal raid, your decision will carry weight.”

“Okay. And also, yes, I’d like to know this prophecy.”

He turned bushy, salt-and-pepper eyebrows at me.

After a long, long pause, he spoke. “In the days before Atlantis revealed itself to the human world, what did humans believe they knew of Atlantis? In the most general terms?”

“Well . . . nothing. That was the whole point of being secret. They thought we were tied into—”

“Atlantis, Rune. What did humans think they knew of Atlantis?”

“Oh. That it was a myth. That we were an ancient civilization that sank in the ocean.”

“It was never a myth, Rune,” the Hermit said. “It’s always been a prophecy.”

I said nothing. I thought of saying something, and then immediately forgot what I was going to say, because . . . What?

“That is a secret known only to certain members of the Arcanum,” he said. “But it’s been corroborated time and time again by some of our most powerful seers. And it also ties into another prophecy that, some twenty years ago, gained new perspective. When the Sun rises again; Shadows will burn; Hidden enemies will stir; Atlantis will sink beneath the waves.”

“Twenty years,” I mumbled. “When Sun Estate fell?”

“For the first time in its history. Ever. Do you realize how unusual that is? For a court to last this long without ever once faltering, even for a generation?” He leaned forward and fixed me with a stare. “What does the prophecy mean to you, Lord Sun?”

“What it’s always meant,” I said. And the numbness gave way to . . . anger? Exasperation? When has my life ever been different? “I’ve got a fight ahead of me.”

Anger.

Yes. I felt anger. Did I really need an ancient prophecy to point out my obvious? That people had been after me since I was a teenager?

“There is something else,” I said. “I’m not leading the Sun Throne.”

The Hermit blinked. “Excuse me?”

“At the coronation, Lord Tower told me it was time to name my court, and I said the expected thing. But screw that. My father led the Sun Throne. I may be the Sun, but what I’m starting is something new. And I do things differently. The people around me are different.”

The Hermit slowly smiled at me. “And what do you run, Rune? What do you sit at the head of?”

The back door slammed open—which wasn’t easy to do. “You may want to come outside,” Lady Death called in.

The Hermit and I exchanged a surprised look. I was halfway across the kitchen before he unfolded from the couch.

Zurah and Ciaran were on the porch, staring above the backyard. Spirits—blue-skinned, indigo-veined air spirits called Apsaras—flitted among tree branches; swooped along the eaves of Half House; pirouetted in the empty flowerbox of Queenie’s empty little cottage. One of them even landed on the railing near me, to stare at the now-flowering vine I’d summoned into being once upon a time.

Apsaras—sky dancers—appeared rarely and often alarmingly during critical turning points. Usually you could drive yourself nuts interpreting their timing.

“And I ask again,” the Hermit murmured behind me. “What do you lead, Rune Sun?”

“The Misfit Throne,” I said. “I am Lord Sun of the Misfit Throne.”

And all that led to today: a barbecue. Because we were Atlantean and we celebrated our victories, no matter how Pyrrhic, no matter how great the losses. The survivors needed that.

As people ran about the estate finishing chores before we fired up the grills, I was told Lady Justice was being escorted to the patio for an unexpected visit.

When I went out there, Addam had beat me. He was facing the ocean, giving me a chance to sneak up and goose him. My hand was half an inch from his ass when I backpedaled because holy shit that was not Addam.

Christian Saint Nicholas sensed my stumble. He turned and smiled, and gave me a quick bow. “Lord Sun.”

He had a thicker Russian accent than Addam or Lady Justice. He was as tall as Addam, with the same sandy hair and burgundy eyes. Unlike Addam, he had a widow’s peak and vampire-pretty hair. At his side, in a custom-made sheath, was a legendary weapon of the Crusader Throne—a telescoping naginata with a mass sigil embedded in the actual blade. When fully extended, the polearm became a devastating battlefield tool. Addam had told me once that Christian stored a Defense spell in the mass sigil, meant to protect family in an emergency. He said in all likelihood that meant enclosing Quinn or Addam in a sealed bubble, because Christian treated anyone under the age of one hundred with rabid overprotection.

“Christian,” I said. “I didn’t know you were coming. Can I get you a refreshment?”

He didn’t have time to answer, because Addam was escorting Lady Justice onto the patio. Christian and he must not have greeted each other yet, because they did this weird little dance where Addam acted mature and professional, and Christian rolled his eyes and slapped him into a bear hug.

Lady Justice and I took a seat at one of the patio tables, while the brothers stood. I used the hem of my T-shirt to wipe at the pollen, but that only smeared yellow everywhere.

“A financial agreement,” Lady Justice said, putting a folder in front of her. “It will be a starting point, at least, as we navigate the separation of my sons and sister from the Crusader Throne.”

I looked over to see that Addam and Christian were involved in some sort of staring contest, silently communicating a range of emotions that would make Brand and I proud.

“We can talk about that later,” I said. “Today is all about burgers and beer. You both will stay for dinner, won’t you?”

“There are other matters to discuss first,” she said. “I wanted to wait until you’d recovered from your use of the Majeure before we addressed it.”

She set that before me like a landmine. I know she did. But she hadn’t been raised by Lord Tower.

“This means you’ve manifested the Majeure,” I told Christian.

“Christian!” Addam said, conflicted between staying quiet and being genuinely happy, especially now that he knew what that meant.

“Because I think your mother is making a point by saying this in front of you and Addam,” I continued firmly.

“You have put Addam at risk,” she said. “Do you understand that, Rune? I know your court is more . . . accessible than most. That you share intelligence among each other. But scions far stronger and less well-connected than Addam have been silenced for knowing about the Arcana Majeure.”

“That’s enough, Mother,” Addam said.

“Let her speak,” Christian told him, gently but firmly. “You are a new court. Do not turn away advice.”

“There were years where I would have greatly appreciated advice from other members of the Arcanum,” I said quietly, and waited until Lady Justice flickered her eyes away from mine.

It was time to nip this in the bud. “How long have I been a house, Lady Justice?”

“That would be rhetorical,” she replied.

“Actually, no. Six months? Nine? And in that time I cut the Hanged Man’s throat, and became a millionaire overnight. And now I’ve put Vadik Amberson in the ground, and regained control of a significant portion of my father’s armory. All within nine months. You may need to get used to the idea of me not being poor. Give it time and I may not even be poorer than you.”

I didn’t get the full effect of her shifting eyes behind her sunglasses, but the small smile said enough.

“And I know the rules regarding the Majeure,” I added. “You are permitted to confide in consorts and Companions. I had every right to tell Brand—and Addam? Addam will have my ring. I—”

I bit that off with an exasperated huff of breath. “Godsdamnit,” I said. “Why do I keep bringing this up at the worst possible time? Addam, I’m sorry, I promise, this is so damn important to me, I don’t mean to shout it out like this. I’ll make it up to you, I really will, but—I mean—will you marry me?”

“I will marry you, Hero,” he said.

“There,” I said, and slapped the table. “Addam has every right to know about the Majeure.”

Lady Justice dipped her chin. “We’re done here, then. Make no mistake: my wedding gift will be lavish, so that I may prove a point.”

She rose, went to Addam, and kissed him on his cheek. “Perhaps I will stay for your burger party. Though I was hoping . . . if he was around . . . perhaps I could visit with Quinn?”

Addam blinked for a second in surprise, and then blinked a bit more because his eyes got wet.

He left the patio briefly to escort Lady Justice and Christian inside, where Diana was waiting at a discreet distance to find out what was happening. She took over from there. I stood by the table and waited for Addam to come back. I pretended to be wiping pollen stains from my shirt, but mainly was twisting and bunching the fabric in my hands to settle my nerves.

When he was back, he didn’t stop until his hands had slid around my waist.

“You always did hate the word boyfriend,” he said.

“You know I meant this, right?” I said. And maybe my voice broke a little. “I just . . . I want to do this. And I want people to see this. I need everyone to understand that you’re not just joining the court—you’ve agreed to assume a powerful place within it. So it really is a marriage, right? Even if there weren’t a ring, it would be like a marriage. But I want a ring. Because I’m not sure how a guy like me ever got a chance with a guy like you—but I did, and I do, and I’m not letting you go.”

I’d pushed back enough so that Addam could stare at me. And that’s all he did—he stared at me, burgundy eyes swimming with tears.

“I used to always dream of fighting,” I said. “In my actual dreams. There’s always fighting. But now I dream of you, too. I dream of you, Addam Saint Nicholas. Will you marry me?”

“I will marry you, Rune Saint John.”

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you, too,” he said back.

Not all decisions swarmed with Apsaras. Not every important moment was backed by orchestra music, or fireworks, or a crowd of allies and loved ones.

Sometimes the most important moments in life end in something as simple as the smile that my fiancé and I exchanged.

After a forced nap at the direction of Brand, I woke to the smell of burgers grilling.

I lingered in front of my bedroom mirror. I’d spent an uncomfortable amount of time doing that lately, trying to see if my use of the Majeure had aged me at all. It shouldn’t have—that’s not how it worked—but I was obsessed with the lines around my eyes. Brand had finally taken pains to loudly remind me of every fucking summer you lost your sunglasses and forgot to replace them.

“You’ve done that for minutes,” Anna said in exasperation at the door. “Do you need a comb or something?”

I bit down on my smile. Anna had been shadowing most of my moves ever since I woke up from my second Majeure coma. She didn’t say why, but I think she knew I was hurting. In her own way, she was trying to protect me.

“Come on, let’s eat,” I said, and we trekked through the mansion to the main floor.

Everyone had flipped over the news that Addam and I were formally engaged. The barbecue became a party. If that wasn’t enough, there was an honest-to-gods engagement banner hanging from the chandelier above the main hall. Diana was offering helpful instructions to Queenie, who was on the top of a ladder, tying the last cord into place.

“You just had that lying around?” I asked Diana.

“I am prepared for many eventualities,” she said.

“You don’t have one for, like, my death or anything, do you?”

Diana gave me a quick look and said, “Crimson silk with gold lettering. Very tasteful.”

I was ninety-two percent sure she was joking.

“Don’t forget you have court hours tomorrow,” she added. “There are already thirty-six names on the docket.”

“Names? Of what?”

“Of people,” she said. There was a second—just a second—where Diana stared hard at me, and I played dumb. “Apparently, members of the Revelry are looking for a new home, and our young people made an impression on them during their captivity.”

“Can I rule them?” Anna asked. “For practice?”

“I am not prepared to have this discussion,” I said. “I don’t even know if I want cheese on my hamburger yet. No, I’m going in that room. It’ll be quiet in there.”

I went into the solarium, which adjoined the patio where food was being set up. It was not quiet. I managed to walk in at the exact second that Quinn snuck up behind Max’s armchair and rubbed a ferret in his hair.

“What the actual fuck!” Max shouted, which sent a wide-eyed Corbie scrambling into another room.

Quinn let loose a flood of words. “I’m sorry Max, you’re my best friend, but there’s this prophecy, and I’m trying to change it. So now you won’t be my arch-nemesis and rub a ferret in my hair!”

“You bought a ferret just for that? Oh hell, it smells!”

“His name is Remus,” I said loudly. “I need to tell Lady Death I accidentally stole him. He’s a mouse hunter. I’m finding another room.”

So I walked through the open archway into the ballroom, where Corbie was rifling through his toy box for the swear jar. He’d staked that corner of the wide marble space as his own—though at some point we’d likely need to consider building an actual ballroom again.

On the mantel of a walk-in fireplace was a new framed photo. Lord Tower had Corbie on his hip, and both of them faced away from the camera. There were perfectly defined tiny chocolate handprints on the back of the Tower’s blue silk shirt.

Corbie didn’t know he could summon Flynn yet. I’m not even sure he could do it outside truly emotional circumstances. We needed to handle that carefully. I’d decided we’d start bringing Corbie inside the enclosure. Flynn would never hurt him, and being close to Corbie might lessen the need to see each other and prevent accidental summonings—and it had been one hell of an expensive headache getting Flynn back to the city from the Westlands. As soon as Corbie was old enough, we’d hire adept summoners to train him.

It would be expensive, and worth every cent of it, because when you had a gift like that you should do more than learn how to contain it. I learned that the hard way with Quinn. You should learn how to celebrate it—it was a rare and special thing.

Corinne came bustling into the ballroom just as Corbie found his swear jar. She chased him back into the solarium, and then came over to me with a cup of lemonade.

Outside, the stereo began blasting Soup Dragon’s “I’m Free.”

“I heard you were up,” she said. “Nice nap?”

“Stop it. This is getting old. I wasn’t careful what I wished for.”

“You’ve earned the right to recuperate.”

“There’s too much to do. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

Her face slid into that blank Companion neutrality.

“I have sigils now,” I said. “I have a court. And we need weapons. We need so many more weapons than we have. I can’t be unprepared anymore—not with the Tower gone. Godsdamn, Corinne, I need help even managing my sigils now. This is an entirely new level of resources. I can finally store spells in advance, and be able to respond sooner to emergencies.”

Many would go into the protection of Sun Estate—into everything tied to its operation and defense. And Max. Quinn and Addam and Diana still had a lot of their own, but they were a factor as well.

Corinne slowly smiled. “Do you remember what Kevan did for you? For your father?”

“He worked in the magical research area.”

“Yes. The area in charge of your father’s tools of war. Are you asking me to be your quartermaster?”

“I totally am. Begging, even.”

“Then I would like to do it—aggressively. Starting tomorrow. I want to turn the Amberson House upside down to find what else Vadik stole from you.”

And now I smiled, because I’d made a good decision.

She continued, though, her excitement obvious. “A research division, at the start of your court, would be a long-term investment. I can look up Kevan’s old contacts. And the type of magical research we do can be geared around you—what you need now, what’s important to your day-today activities. And gods, Rune, the biggest magical research entity on the island is the Hex Throne, and with Ciaran maybe taking it over? It’s just smart. He could do a lot for us, and maybe we could even do something to help him. He’ll face challenges.”

Maybe I’d even made a great decision.

There was a crash of glass, the sound of feet hitting the ground, and someone shouted, “Don’t let him run outside!”

Corinne sighed and hustled toward the solarium.

I had about half a second of solitude before Layne leaned through a hallway door. “Is she gone?” they whispered. “Can we talk?”

From the way Layne nervously entered, I knew what was coming. I just did. I’d known this was coming for weeks. It felt a little like I was about to get punched in the heart.

“Of course,” I said. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes. It is. It really is. But . . . Ciaran is on his way over. I want to ask him something big.”

I said, subdued, “You want to apprentice with him.”

Layne’s face faltered between scared and happy. “I’m that age. And he knows magic—he can help me train my magic. And . . . I mean, he . . . he’s helping me with . . .”

I held out my hand. Layne’s seesawing expression settled into simple gratitude. They ran over and hugged me. Afterwards I took their hand and tugged us over to two chairs by the archway.

“He helps you with your nightmares,” I said.

“He does.”

They look like they wanted to explain what that meant, but they didn’t need to. I understood. “I get it,” I said. “People want to see the bright, shiny exterior. It makes them feel safe, thinking you’ve moved beyond the bad stuff. But what’s inside? No. That doesn’t go away that easily. Darkness hides. If Ciaran is helping you with that, I approve. If he can train your immolation magic, I approve.”

“Then why do you look so sad?” Layne whispered. “And your eyes are glowing.”

I closed my eyes against my Aspect. “I’m sad because I failed you.”

“You haven’t!”

“I really have,” I said.

“I just . . . I want what Anna has with you,” Layne said. “I think I can have that with Ciaran.”

I heard the bounce of plastic and splash of liquid. I opened my eyes to see Corinne frozen in the archway with a horrified look on her face.

“Auntie, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Layne said hurriedly, standing up. They didn’t go to Corinne, just danced a bit in place, not sure what to say next.

“No,” Corinne said.

“I’m old enough to get apprenticed. I’m past the age where a lot of kids get apprenticed. I—”

“No, please, no Laynie,” Corinne said. Tears spilled over her lashes.

“Listen, please, you know Ciaran. You know he’ll be good to me.”

“I know you’re fond of him—”

“Not like that. Never like that. I trust him. I trust him with whatever I want my life to be. That makes sense, right? I just want to be someone someday.”

“Layne Dawncreek, you faced Lady Time,” Corinne said sharply. “You made her run. You’re already someone.” She swallowed and wiped at her cheeks. “This is important to you.”

“So important,” Layne whispered.

I kissed Layne on the cheek.

I kissed Corinne on the cheek.

Leaving them with my blessing, I walked back into the solarium, where everyone was gathered in a quiet, eavesdropping crowd.

Staring at Max, Quinn, and Anna, I said, “You better not go anywhere ever.”

“Hell no,” Max said. “Quinn and I are going to freeload for years.”

“We really will,” Quinn said.

Anna shrugged and said, “I’m waiting to inherit.”

“Plus, Addam said you said that we’re rich now,” Quinn added. “Why leave?”

“I want a raise,” Max said.

Brand lightly slapped the back of his head. “All of you go outside. Set the table. Let’s eat.”

He managed to herd everyone outside except for Anna, who stubbornly wanted to stay by my side.

“Fine,” Brand said. “Watch him, and tell me if he gets tired.”

Anna slowly put a potato chip in her mouth and munched on it. She said, “Snitches get stitches.”

Brand left. Anna stayed with me. I was beginning to feel a new bout of tiredness dragging on my limbs, damn Brand, but tried to hide it. This is what it was like: stretches of normalcy suddenly crippled by bone-deep weariness.

So I went over to one of the puffy, mismatched sofas we’d liberated from a used furniture store. Anna sat next to me and said nothing. She was good like that—it reminded me so much of Brand. Or, to give credit where credit was due, Corinne.

“We’re not really rich, you know,” I said.

She gave me a fixed stare that was her version of an eye roll.

“What I’m saying, is that we’re not rich, but we do have access to funds that we didn’t before. I’ve been meaning to ask you something, but I’m worried it may upset you.”

“Is it about giving me an allowance but not Max?”

I smiled. “It’s about your scar. I wanted to know if you’d like to talk with specialists about it.”

Her hand shot to the curtain of hair that she tended to drape over the left side of her face. She stopped just short and balled her hand into a fist—and then, slowly, relaxed.

I think she surprised even herself by saying, “No.”

“No?”

“No. It makes people nervous. That’s an advantage, right?”

Oh, gods was she like a Companion. Smiling at her, I reached into my pocket and rummaged around, eventually pulling out the silver dove brooch I’d bought in the Arcanum bunker.

“Hold out your hand,” I said.

With wide eyes, she complied. “I can feel it,” she whispered.

I laid the sigil on her palm, then covered it with my own hand. I said, “This sigil is now your sigil. Its will is now your will, Annawan Dawn-creek.”

I felt her hand jerk as the sigil connected with her. Her one visible eye glimmered with tears. She closed her fingers around the sigil and brought it to her chest.

“They’ll tear it off me in a battle,” she mumbled.

“It’s not for field work. It’s for practice. Don’t worry—you’ll have your battle tools one day.”

She bowed over the sigil for a second. I heard her breathing steady and she said, “Everyone’s hugging you all the time lately. You must be sick of it.”

“Not really.”

She jumped at me, her thin arms squeezing in a ferocious embrace. It lasted for barely a second before she was up and off, running out to the patio to hide her emotion.

I sat there by myself for only a little while longer, because the sounds of my family outside—for just that moment—was everything.

I climbed a tower in a storm. Lightning set the world afire in strobe-like gunfire.

I was not scared of the storm, or the darkness. But I was terrified of the climb.

I looked up and saw an infinity of slowly decreasing handholds, and the horror in my chest felt like death.

I woke up with a start, heart in my throat. I smelled burning cloth and looked down to see a crisp brown handprint on the bottom sheet of my bedding.

And that scared me more than anything. I had to sit still for a full minute until I stopped shaking.

I’d been having nightmares lately—not the normal dreams, just moments where the simplest things were a source of formless terror. It wasn’t prophecy. There was no metaphysical shakiness about it. It was just a nightmare.

It wouldn’t take a psychiatrist to tell me I’d been fending off too much trauma lately. There would be an accounting.

The red numbers on my bedside clock told me that everyone else was still likely awake. I’d begged off earlier when the exhaustion hit particularly hard. Now, I whispered quietly through my bond I’m okay I’m fine I’m okay so that Brand wouldn’t come charging upstairs to punch my bad dreams.

I wasn’t ready to be around people again. I pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt, and my last pair of clean white socks. (My socks, now that I knew which sock drawer was mine.) I was just finishing when a tiny knock sounded on the bottom pane of the door. So I opened it and looked out, then looked down, and saw a stuffed red and black animal being held up toward my face.

“You’re up late,” I told Corbie.

“I got a video,” he said, and held up his phone with another hand. “And Liege Ladybug wanted to stay with you.”

We ended up going back into my room and crawling on the mattress. Corbie had taken to using his new phone to capture candid family moments, including nose picking, butt scratching, and sneeze wiping.

This, it turned out, wasn’t one of those videos. My breath caught as I saw a paused clip showing the Tower’s face.

“Oh,” I whispered. “I know what this is.”

During the last equinox celebration, Lord Tower had babysat the kids. That wasn’t the shocking thing. Of course I asked him to watch the kids while the adults went out for the evening—who better to protect my estate in my brief absence? No, the shocking thing was that Corbie had somehow maneuvered the Tower into accepting an invitation to his neighborhood school to be Corbie’s show and tell.

The Tower had point blank refused to let anyone else show up at school that day, but I’d heard the event was recorded.

My heart hurt. Oh, did my heart hurt as I reached out and pressed play.

“But where’s your tower?” one of the kids was asking.

“It’s a metaphor, young one,” Lord Tower said. “It stands for the fortitude of Atlantean institutions.”

“Is it made of stone?” another kid asked.

“Yes,” the Tower said with a smile.

“Can you make my freckles disappear?” another kid said. “My oldest brother knows how to make freckles disappear.”

The Tower bowed his head for a good three seconds, and then giggling started to break out across the room. Until the phone camera panned back to the audience, I didn’t realize he’d cast a mass glamor to give every child different colored, polka-dot-sized freckles.

(“Mine were purple,” Corbie said.)

“How old are you?” someone else shouted.

The Tower’s lips curled slightly. “How old do I look?”

Kids started shouting everything from eighteen to six million.

“I am old,” he said. “Older than New Atlantis.”

“That’s old,” a somber kid in the front row agreed.

“Do you really know Corbie?” another demanded suspiciously. “Corbie DAWNCREEK?”

“I do indeed.”

“Corbie is weird,” the kid concluded.

“Is he?” the Tower murmured, and even on video I saw the shadows swirling in his eyes. “Perhaps you’d all do well to be just as weird. After all, Corbitant Dawncreek is kin to an Arcana, and summoned me here. And I came.”

Well, that silenced them for a few seconds, except for an unfazed Corbie, who took advantage of the gap in talk to say, “Rune said he lived in the Pac Man.”

“Do you mean the Pac Bell?”

The camera panned on Corbie’s broad shrug.

“The Pac Bell is my home,” Lord Tower said. “Rune came to live with me when he was about ten years older than you, my young friend. Both him and Brand. Do you all know who Brand is?”

There was a clamor at that, and I’m almost positive at least three children actually screamed.

“Do you have a job?” someone asked.

“I do,” he said. “I’ve had many of them. It’s been my great privilege to look after the city, and find our footing again in this strange new world we’ve created with the humans. Just as now it’s my great privilege to make room for a new generation of caretakers.”

“Do you have a Dad?” yelled a girl in pigtails—whose name was Elsie, and whom Corbie had already asked to marry at least twice.

The Tower smiled at her. “Not for a very long time.”

“Are YOU a dad?” someone else shouted.

He quieted over his answer for a moment, and then said, “Yes. I have children of my own. I’ve fostered others. I’m a godfather. It was never quite one of my gifts, but I did get it right with the last two.” He paused and smiled at the room around him, then settled his eyes on Corbie. “They appear to be giving me grandchildren at the very least.”

The video ended.

I felt a sob clawing up my throat, its fingernails taking flesh with it. But that was as much grief as I allowed myself, because there was a wide-eyed six-year-old staring at me. I wanted to keep my shit together for him. For all of these new people in my life. It was only a matter of time before I asked Corinne if any of them would want to take my name.

Corbie said, in a wavering voice, “He saved me.”

“He did. That makes you special, you know. In Old Atlantis, being saved by a hero was a type of blessing.”

Corbie puzzled over that. “Like when I sneeze?”

I hugged him and said, “Why don’t you go see your Aunt Corinne? I bet she wants to put you to bed.”

In the darkness, I made my way to the steep stairway in the northwest wing, up to the turret roof.

I wasn’t alone for long—even before I heard his steps on the ladder, I could feel him approaching. It was how I always knew I’d finally woken from a nightmare, or when grim thoughts were finally lifting—I felt the approach of my Companion.

I opened my eyes against the struggles in my brain—and Brand was watching me. He sat down, and we stared through the darkness toward the invisible ocean surge.

“I’m okay,” I told him. “Corbie had this video . . .”

Brand groaned. “He’s been running around showing people. It’s like sniper fire.” And that was the first time I noticed his own eyes were red and swollen.

The words crashed out of me. “He’s gone. Wherever he is, I can’t reach him, and it’s like he’s gone, and I don’t know if I’m enough,” I said hoarsely. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to protect us, even with allies.”

Brand said nothing for a moment, thinking that through. He said, “When shit goes wrong on the estate—when something breaks, or people are fighting, or there’s a construction decision—do you know where they go?”

I turned my head to look at him. “Yes. You. That’s a fucking awful pep talk.”

He continued without pause. “But when something goes really wrong? When there’s a demon walking down a street, or an avalanche headed our way, do you know who people run toward? You. They run to you, Rune. Because you have, you do, you always will be able to handle the serious shit. I’ll never bet against you.”

I said, “Yesterday. You bet against me yesterday. Max had to pay you five dollars because I didn’t do that tenth pull-up.”

He blew a raspberry at me, and then said, “We’re going to be fine.”

“Are we?” I asked. “We just learned the people who broke my father’s court are still . . . here. Waiting. Will they come for us now that the Tower is gone? I’m not enough, Brand. I’m not enough to protect us.”

“Goddamnit, Rune, look at everyone in our life. Look at all the people we’ve brought into it—the people we protect now, and fight for. They aren’t stick figures in a diorama, they’re our family. They move and react. And that is the good thing about family—this is the payoff. It’s not always about you taking care of them. They take care of you, too. So fuck whatever problem is headed our way. There’s one of it, and a dozen of us, and it doesn’t stand a chance.”

I warmed myself in his words, calmed by the strength they offered.

Eventually I cleared my throat and said, “Everyone still awake?”

“Eh,” he said. “There was some drama. Layne tickled Corbie, and Flynn popped into the ballroom. Corinne and Diana are trying to figure how to get him out.”

I gave Brand an incredulous look.

“I’m guessing we’ll have more moments like this to look forward to?” he asked.

“Until Corbie’s trained, yes.”

I expected Brand to start swearing, but instead a slow, sharp smile appeared on his face.

He said, “Our boy is going to rule that fucking playground.”

“By the way. What did you do to terrify Corbie’s class?”

“Meh,” he said. “The first time I dropped him off at school, I tried to be funny and spoke in a Yoda voice, only they didn’t know who Yoda was, and also, maybe, it sounded a little bit more like Darth Vader now that I think about it.”

“I’m going to need you to be like this forever.”

“And by the way,” he said, “Diana also cornered me over the Revelry applicants. About how surprising and convenient it is, getting the pick of Lord Fool’s best.”

“Hmm,” I said.

“Because you acted all surprised,” he added. When I didn’t reply, he said, “It’s possible she’s figured out that you’re a manipulative little shit, and also that she approves.”

“One might also use the phrase freakishly brilliant at seizing an unexpected opportunity.” Lady Time was a monster, but she wasn’t wrong about one thing: ready-made bodies of supporters came in handy.

“One might,” Brand acknowledged, “but it’s pretty fucking unlikely I’ll ever say that out loud.”

At that point, Addam came out. He was juggling a plate filled with cookies, and Brand slid over to make room between him and me. I’m not sure when we decided that Addam sat in the middle, but it felt like a thing now.

“Kids in bed?” Brand asked.

Addam pulled a face. “I heard Max whisper something urgently about locating grass seed so that they never find out, and then they all disappeared. I do not want to know if I am they. So I have escaped, here, to you.”

Brand pulled a small black box out of his pocket and thumbed open its lid. Inside was a gold ring with two overlapping motifs engraved on it: a sun and a scale. Brand said, “Will you still agree to marry my dumbass scion, who still hasn’t put this on your finger, even though everyone already knows about the proposal and there’s a fucking banner hanging in the main hall?”

Addam stuck out his ring finger. Brand slipped it on, and we all stared. Then Addam began to say, “It is very—”

“Nope, no, nope,” Brand interrupted. “I heard Russia in that, and you only get that Russian when you’re pissed or emotional. We will not be crying anymore tonight. Got it? Welcome to the family, now give a stout nod.”

“It is very beautiful,” Addam said, and snuck a sniffly breath while nodding.

“So I guess Diana gets to plan a wedding,” Brand said, while holding a not it finger alongside his nose.

“I was thinking either that, or maybe we elope in America?” I said, while covertly wiping at my own eyes.

Well, that had them both turning to stare at me. So I added, “I’ve got a battleship to return, and we need a vacation.”