Shocked whispers rush through the crowd, but when Kellan raises his hands, they quiet.

“This is a problem that could have been avoided, but it can be traced directly to my parents’ desire to control information in Lunameade. In their greed for power and control, they cut out parts of our history that left us blind to the purpose of the blood tithes and to the true nature of the Drained. We will right that wrong by bringing back the full story of the evolution of Drained and why the tithes were directly connected to making the problem worse. We will bring back storytellers who can remind us of these tales, and we will never again wipe out uncomfortable parts of our history for the sake of holding on to power.”

The people of Lunameade look stunned.

“Say more,” someone shouts from the rear of the group.

Kellan nods. “There is good news and bad news with that. The good news is that we will be stopping the blood tithes. The bad news is that we don’t know how long it will take for the Drained to settle down enough that we can start hunting them back. But Henry Havenwood and the people at Mountain Haven have brought us a helpful piece of information. Well water kills the Drained just like holy fire. This week, we will start distributing stashes of well water to every house in Lunameade, starting with homes and businesses in the A zones on the outermost rim of the city and working our way in through each section until we reach the city center.”

The crowd erupts into loud cheers. People hug, and the relief on their faces is plain. Kellan waits patiently for them to quiet.

He places his hand over his heart. “Now, I have one more shameful admission. Some of you already know, but most of you don’t. When I became captain of the city guard, I learned that my father was killing any Vardek-blessed children who had holy fire magic. As soon as I found out, I volunteered to take over watching all the blessing ceremonies. I lied to cover the tracks of any children with blessings from Vardek. Because of that, my father became paranoid and more volatile, thinking the Divine had abandoned us because of his sins, and more controlling of our citizens. I’m sorry for that miscalculation on my part.”

Kellan gestures to the crowd like he’s welcoming them into a huddle. “However, the children I saved have learned to wield their power, and in my father’s absence, they have graciously offered to help us maintain the wall.”

On cue, holy fire erupts around the outside of crowd, the Vardek-blessed making themselves known. The people clap, and I swear they look relieved.

Kellan presses a hand to his heart. “It’s on me for not realizing sooner, and I promise I carry the weight of that responsibility every day. It’s part of the reason why I started this revolution. The reason Alistair Carren was blessed with the Blood Well to begin with was to protect the whole of this community, not just those of us with magic.”

The crowd claps in approval. I’m impressed at what a thorough job he’s done of setting up this speech, but I suppose he’s had a lot of time to think about it.

Kellan bows his head to me in deference as he continues. “It’s also time to acknowledge that even if Rafe was responsible for directing the horde that attacked Mountain Haven ten years ago, the burden of protecting the people of Lunameade and the fort fell on my family. We failed the Havenwoods and everyone else at the fort by not seeing Rafe’s treachery, and not realizing how large the horde had become. For that fault, I would like to formally apologize to the Havenwood family and everyone else at Mountain Haven. I cannot imagine their grief, but I admire the way they have rebuilt and redeveloped their community. We will be helping them bolster their forces going forward.” He looks at me. “Henry, I’m sorry for your losses, and we aim to do better going forward.”

I place my fist over my heart and nod my head. “Thank you. You have the full support of Mountain Haven.”

I can feel the eyes of the crowd on me, the people around us shifting and noticing Harlow beside me. I take a step closer to her, feeling protective of my grieving wife.

Kellan clears his throat, and the crowd turns their attention back as he looks toward the other side of the stage, where Libby is standing. “I have two children with my lovely wife, and another on the way. I want them to grow up in a city where they aren’t used for their magic or lack thereof. Where they strive to improve the lives of this community. We know what it takes to survive in isolation, but I’d like to see us thrive.”

The shouts of approval grow even louder, and when I look toward the back of the crowd, I see that it’s grown since the start of his speech. People are pouring in from all sides to hear what he has to say.

“Finally, I know that many of you are wondering where my parents are,” Kellan says. “When the poison is in your own line, you have to cut it out yourself. My parents were a risk to everyone in this community. I don’t think we will ever unravel the entirety of the hurts they’ve caused. Even I’m not immune. They gave my sister Aidia to Rafe Mattingly, knowing he was abusive. They saw the marks on her body—many of you did, too. But they did nothing about it. As long as Rafe was handled, they didn’t care what it cost. They even covered it up when he killed her.”

Gasps go through the crowd, and Kellan looks directly at Harlow. His grief is completely unmasked and so familiar because I have seen that look on my own face so many times over the past ten years.

He straightens and looks out over the crowd. “But last night I ensured that they won’t have the chance to hurt anyone in or out of our house again. Harrick and Liza Carrenwell are dead.”

I expect complete chaos, but there are just hushed whispers and shock. Kellan waits, his body tense and braced for impact. Across the crowd, Carter catches my eye and shrugs, nodding at Kellan like he’s impressed. Without a doubt, my brother-in-law is a better speaker than Harrick ever was, and from the looks of the faces on the crowd, he already has their respect.

It feels too easy, but I think that’s because most of the suffering happened before we returned to Lunameade. These people, the blessed and those without magic, have been struggling here for a long time under the oppressive hands of Harrick and Liza. None of it was easy for them.

I look at Harlow. Her face is inscrutable, but I can feel her pride and grief mixing together as she watches Kellan take responsibility for her violence. His apology to the crowd is just as much an apology to her.

“I’m glad I didn’t kill him last night,” she whispers when she catches me looking.

“Was that a possibility?” I ask.

She shrugs a shoulder. “It was hard to believe he didn’t know what was going on, but I think my parents intentionally left him out of things they knew would make him angry. My father was always very careful with Kellan. He wanted a child blessed by Polm, but it’s a double-edged sword. He provides security, but he can also kill you. Kellan’s magic is strong. If he had publicly resisted them—” She shakes her head, trailing off as her brother begins to speak again.

“I wish it hadn’t come to this, and I would have avoided it if I could think of any other way,” Kellan says. “But my father had become too volatile and unpredictable in his old age. I know this won’t undo the harm they’ve caused, and it hasn’t undone the guilt I feel for not being able to do anything until now, but real change takes time. I wanted everyone to have a chance to see what Lunameade could be if we worked together. But, most of all, I wanted you all to know that I am willing to stand between you and danger, not because I want to be a leader, but because I have been blessed with the power to.”

Kellan waves to a bar on the edge of the center square. Spanning it is a mural of the discovery of the well. Beneath the painting, the rest of the Carrenwell siblings stand with their gatehouse banners raised. Each house has a color, and all are represented except the black banner of North Hold, since Rafe has been detained, and the blue of South Hold, which is held by Kellan’s son, who stands at the edge of the stage.