“They’ll stay down until the sun rises unless I tell them otherwise,” Kellan says.

I stare at the men on the floor. I knew Kellan Carrenwell was blessed by the Divine of Malice. Compulsion magic is the most feared, and therefore, the most valued among our people. But it’s one thing to know something in theory and another to see someone with a strong enough gift for manipulation that he can make a group of men that large and focused lie down for an entire night.

It makes him well-suited to running the city guard. Men listen to someone with Polm’s blessing because they don’t want to find out what happens if they don’t.

Harlow hugs Kellan, her face full of relief. For a moment, she’s not a woman who tried to casually murder me in a boarding house the other night. She’s just a woman who loves her brother. It’s too humanizing.

“Easy, Low. I’m fine,” he says.

“Getting rusty?” Harlow taunts as she draws away.

Kellan shrugs. “There were three of them and I barely got Libby out safely. I wasn’t at my best.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Harlow is so much calmer now, her voice back to its smooth, steady cadence, her face less pale. Since Kellan’s magic is good in a fight, it’s clear that she’s just more emotionally attached to him than the rest of her family.

I tuck that knowledge away, along with the fact that Kellan’s wife doesn’t have good defensive magic, or else she wouldn’t have been hidden away.

The Carrenwells are notoriously cagey about what magical gifts they each have. It’s another way that they hoard power; that’s only compounded by the fact that they have a record of which of the Divine has blessed every magic wielder in Lunameade. The more information I can gather quickly about each of the magical families in the high houses, the better chance we have of swaying them from supporting the Carrenwells.

Kellan pats my shoulder. “You should go find your parents. No rebels made it past me, but they may have breached a different entrance. If they know who your parents are, they won’t be safe.”

I want to laugh in his face. As if a Carrenwell has ever cared for my family’s safety. For all I know, he put Harlow up to killing me the other night. If I had to gamble on anyone knowing I was in the city, it would have been the captain of the city guard and the most well-connected of the siblings. One fake show of concern will not be enough to put my suspicion to rest.

“I think Mother said they were heading to the library to see a painting of Mountain Haven,” Harlow says.

Paranoia creeps up on me. What if the Carrenwells planned this? What if this was a trap? I have been wondering why exactly they went along with my parents’ plan. The biggest point of failure when we sent the proposal was whether they would see value in it. The fact that they do means they want something from us.

Harlow narrows her eyes at me—no, not at me; through me. Panic grips me. She’s seeing something in my aura.

“Are you well? You need to be ready,” she says.

I smile tightly. “Lead the way, lovely.”

Kellan’s brows shoot up at the exchange, but he doesn’t say anything as Harlow starts down the hallway with Gaven at her side. They pause at the corner, listening for footsteps. There’s only the distant sound of fighting and screaming from outside the house. It sounds like the rebels are on their heels.

We round the hallway, and Harlow pauses behind Gaven in front of a tall, ornate wooden door. The bodyguard leans his ear against it for a moment before pushing inside. Harlow follows, and I stride in behind her, the smell of ink and parchment mixing with candle wax and a faint scent of honey. Harlow draws up short when her eyes come to rest on a body on the far side of the room.

I look over her shoulder.

My mother is wounded. Blood pools around her on the library floor. My father crouches over her, trying to staunch the bleeding. Panic descends so quickly, I don’t realize Harlow has already taken action, ripping strips of fabric from the hem of her dress to hand to my father. My mother’s face is twisted in pain.

“They came so quickly, I couldn’t hold them all back,” he says, his voice frantic. “The guards fought them back, but⁠—”

“Kellan, you have to help,” Harlow says.

My enemy, the head of the city guard, doesn’t hesitate. He kneels next to my mother, places his hand on her shoulder, and the grimace on my mother’s face dissipates into a soft frown.

She blinks up at Kellan. “How did you⁠—”

He presses a finger to his lips. He somehow took away her pain. I loathe that I owe him more than I can express.

I place my hand over the wound in her shoulder and stitch the tissue back together with my magic. It’s slow work and I’m tired. The more I use this power to heal severe wounds, the harder it gets to weave it together. While Divine blessings are a seemingly endless source of magic, their limits are tied to both the wielder’s skill and endurance. For me, it feels like the more I heal people in a short period of time, the more my concentration wanes.

My mother believes that the natural limits of a mortal body are how the Divine ensured that their gifts wouldn’t be abused by any one person. You can condition yourself to stay at peak magical performance, but everyone hits a wall eventually.

I force my magic to focus on the surface-level healing until my mother’s skin is flawless once again.

“Mom?”

Her eyes flutter open and she gives me a grim smile. “You’re too young to look so serious, Henry. You’ll scare off your new fiancée.”

“Are you well?” I ask.

“I’m fine. Your father just panics when I’m hurt. I would have been fine.” She meets Kellan’s gaze. “Not that I don’t appreciate the assistance. That’s quite a gift you have.”

I look at the stain on the carpet. She’s lying. She’s already lost a lot of blood. I don’t know if she doesn’t want me to panic or if she doesn’t want to feel beholden to the family who robbed her of her daughter, but she wouldn’t have been fine, and she certainly wouldn’t have felt well enough for my father to help her stand.

I turn to Harlow. She’s leaning against the bookcase, looking more relaxed than she has all day.

“Should we go find the rest of your family?”

She shrugs. “Protocol is to stay in hiding until the threat is handled.”

Kellan nods. “We can show you to a safe room where we have fresh water and food that might help your mother feel more like herself. I’ll feel better when I set eyes on my wife anyway.”

My father catches my gaze. I’m dying to tell him everything I’ve learned so far—that my wife-to-be knows how to fight, that she flawlessly spotted a magical trap, that the rebels used magic, that her brother has such a strong blessing that he could compel frenzied rebels to lay down their weapons. For now, I have to hold my tongue and go wherever Harlow leads. The more they show us about the South Hold mansion, the better.

Kellan crosses the room and hesitates, glancing at me over his shoulder. It’s hard to tell if it’s an act to make us feel like he’s letting us in on something valuable, or if he’s actually fighting the instinct to protect family secrets. He lifts his hand to a large volume and pushes it in. The entire shelf of books clicks, and he pulls it away from the wall, revealing another passage.

He leads the way inside, followed by my parents, Harlow, and me, with Gaven pulling up the rear.

Harlow leans close to me. “Thank you for healing me and Kellan.”

“You seem close,” I say.

She eyes me warily. “We are, but I have a great affection for my niece and nephew, and I’m not about to let their father die if I—or in this case you—can help him.” She must see the skepticism on my face. “It’s clear that neither of us is interested in marrying into this alliance for love, so let’s make the most of it. I know things about Lunameade you don’t. You know things about Fall—” She clears her throat. “About Mountain Haven that I don’t. Kellan is very important to me. Clearly your mother is very important to you. Rochelli hurt both of our families tonight. I don’t plan to sit back and allow these rebels to hurt my family or yours. It sets a dangerous precedent if they think they can get away with it so easily.”