Sulla prods her mare to walk beside Toast. We ride in silence for a few minutes before she clears her throat.

“There’s too much history. Too much fear. Those who don’t have the power don’t know how to see us as human.”

That’s part of the reason she didn’t want me inserting myself into the affairs of the country in the first place. I wince inwardly. “I know it’s hard. But a few of them have accepted me as I am. If Lothar hadn’t sent the whole country into a fury to hunt me down…”

She sighs. “They’re only acting on what they think is right. What they think even the gods would want.”

But it isn’t. The gods wanted us to wield this magic, at least while it was useful to them. If anything, we’re blessed more than anyone else, not less.

Even that revelation sits heavily in my chest right now. No matter what we say to most of Silana’s citizens, how will they ever accept the idea that the riven are more than monsters?

It certainly didn’t look possible in the temple courtyard last night.

Even the men and women who’ve worked alongside me have remained wary through the weeks. There are still more of our allies who’ll dodge my path than smile at me.

Casimir seems to have picked up on my train of thought. He speaks in the steady, soothing tone that comes to him so naturally. “Once we’ve fully exposed Lothar for the villain he is, it’ll be easier to convince the rest of the country that the things he said were wrong as well.”

It isn’t just Lothar saying riven sorcerers deserve nothing but execution, though. Gods smite me, I had trouble believing anything else for most of my life.

Those uneasy thoughts stew inside me through the rest of the ride. We pick our way along narrow paths trampled by wildlife through a stretch of forest, Petra studying our surroundings and adjusting our course a few times. She makes a wordless sound of relief when a low, log building comes into view up ahead.

Once we’ve dismounted and examined the cabin, I can’t summon much of a mood for gratitude. The building contains only a single room, scattered with dirt and twigs that have blown through the broken window. It smells dank, and the door doesn’t close all the way.

It must be years if not decades since anyone last stayed here.

Oh, well. If we’re still here after three more days, then we’ve lost to the scourge sorcerers, and it’ll be a far cry better than a dungeon.

Alek pats the wall with forced cheer. “At least the roof looks solid enough. We’ll have shelter if it rains.”

Stavros grunts. “It beats a tent of branches. We’ve made do with worse.”

Petra steps toward me and my men. “You can keep the one concealment charm, Ivy. If anyone does stumble on you, you’ll want to be able to disappear.”

She glances apologetically at Rheave and Casimir. “I’ll need to bring back the others. We don’t know how quickly we might need them.”

Rheave opens his mouth with a look as if he’s about to protest, but I jump in first. “Of course. The first priority is keeping you and your brother and sister safe. There aren’t many to go around.”

The daimon-man frowns, but he doesn’t want to argue with me. And he’d probably rather blast anyone who comes hunting around here than stay hidden anyway.

“Thank you for understanding,” Petra says softly as the two men hand over the charms on their chains. “I haven’t asked you yet—did you accomplish everything you hoped to in Florian?”

Casimir pipes up first. He already filled me and Rheave in on his success when we reconvened at the wagon. “The Black Talons came through admirably. Their people should already be distributing the pamphlets so that most of Florian will be ready for our trials when we give the signal. We decided it was best if most of the recovered daimon remain in the city so they’ll be close at hand when we arrive, but they might send a few to Baron Cyris’s estate.”

“How many did you recover?” Her gaze slides to me and Rheave.

“A little more than thirty, in the end,” I say, the memory of the freed daimon, the delight that crossed their faces at realizing they could make their own decisions, softening a little of the turmoil inside me.

Rheave sighs. “There were a few who were still too deeply under the scourge sorcerers’ spell for us to break them out of it. But their hold has weakened a lot.”

Petra smiles at him. “That’s wonderful. I suppose we can hope that within the coming days and weeks, some of them will start to emerge from the Order’s influence on their own.”

She pauses and seems to gird herself. “Not that we can wait on that possibility.”

She’s going to put herself on display in front of many of the same people who cheered at the thought of my death just last night. A shiver travels down my spine.

Our fellow citizens have to see that she’s meant to rule. It’s in her blood, her training—and every honorable, determined word she says.

If we can pull together our trials in no time flat.