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I still can’t figure Anya out. Or her motives. But I don’t press, because I also understand that not every story can be told or shared. It makes me feel like there might even be an allyship here, at least until she stops assuming I’m bad for Soren, or that I want something from him.

Even that kind of worry seems distant now.

My heart races slightly faster when Bones and Donna approach, the crowd moving around them as if they’re stones among the sea. Bones strides with a roughness that belies how, well,graceful, he can be on his feet; his boots even scuff along the floor. Contrasting him is Donna scanning the environment like a first mate ensuring the ship is in order.

A creaking, heavy door pulls my attention in the opposite direction, Soren’s authority breaking through the air with an effect that’s so entirely impossible to describe, but is felt so immediately it makes evenmyback straighten. I’ll never quite get over the way his sheer size, mixing with an impossibly pale gaze that peels away at people’s emotions, commands a room. He is completely covered in full, thick leather armor, with quite a few shining metal pieces added.

As much as the red leather was haunting to witness in Coalfell, there’s something imposing about him donned in all black. Mismatched, stolen rings on his fingers stand out even more against the darkness of his attire, hair, and stubble.

I asked him about where his red leather was, and according to him, it’s primarily ceremonial, worn for official tasks or making an appearance in Skull’s Row.

Thismuted outfit is for actual warfare.

It’s not lost on me that only a few days ago, Mod was hitting Soren with a broom, and now he walks among them like a revered Zenith. Even if I lack the necessary powers to read someone, evenIcan feel the reality of everything—Dad is distinguished, but Soren is replacing that generation. Much like the miners back in Coalfell when the young boys started to turn into young men. Even if they wanted to fight him based on their loyalties, no one here can deny Soren holds a place among this world.

Soren approaches us, scanning everyone with a gaze I now recognize—he’s sensing out the space and the people within, to whatever degree he does. Those piercing eyes flash back at me, barely softening, although it’s enough for me. “It’s time to go, Jane.”

J A N E

Istraighten my shoulders with purpose, padding the dagger at my right hip that I’m most familiar with. I eye the stubble of a man who has broken down so many of my barriers; such a subtle detail, and yet it’shim,especially on his right jaw, where a segment is missing from a scar.

There are moments like these where I can tell, years from now, I’ll revisit them in my heart. Just like the baths that mom had drawn for me, the calm before the storm. I can only hopethat when I visit them for comfort, Soren is still alive. Still right around a corner, waiting on me.

He reaches a hand out, those powerful fingers landing somewhere between my neck and shoulder, and he leans in—he smells so much like oiled metal. “I honestly can’t promise things will be okay once we leave here. You’re to go with your father, since he can shift into another whereas I’m harder to hide,” he quietly warns in my ear. “But you’re not alone, love. If we get separated at all, I know how to find you. Do you understand?”

His gritty voice is absolute perfection to me, and I can’t resist leaning my cheek into his—fuck,that means something to me, to the lost girl that grew up not knowing how to find her family. I click my tongue, agreeing with that but alsonotliking this. “Where will you be if I’m with my father?”

“Close,” he reassures, his tone soothing.

To my shock, as he pulls back, his warm lips and stubble graze my forehead, then he surveys the space before we all follow him, his deadly stare returning after softening for me.

There’s something to being so public with such gentle affection that makes this all worth it.

But as I start to reach the entrance, I become paralyzed.

A cold chill snakes down my spine as if I want to scream to everyone to not leave and beg the gods to pause time—I have too much to do. Too many questions for my father, too much time with Soren that I have yet to spend, and I still have Kathleen to see.

Without a doubt, there are people in this room who are already marked for death.Just like my mother was before she stepped out onto our front patio that connected to the streets.

It’s as if I can see that all over again, the light of the outside world flooding my vision in a memory.

If only I could go back to the momentbeforeshe entered the sunlight, to tell her to stay. To ask her about being a Cinder, tolearn whereshegrew up. To ask her when she knew that Dad was a skin shifter.

Donna loudly says, “We’re finally leaving this fucking place!” The people around cheer, some raising their weapons. My gaze latches to the back of Soren’s head when it’s clear I’m the only one that’s nervous; his hair tied back into a low bun, ready for a fight.

Gods, I wish I was more powerful. That I wasuseful. That I could do more than just not beburned.

I want to doso muchright now, and yet I can’t. I physically can’t.

As if pulled over by the very earrings I wear, my head moves to a ruby in the wall.That’s not entirely true…

No.I’m not yet prepared to give up on finding an alternative?—

“Jane, you’ll be with the Scorpion,” Soren says, indicating a man who looksexactlylike Ern, down to the facial hair.

That penetrates through absolutely every ounce of fear I have. My subconscious wants to momentarily ask him what he’s doing here, and ask how he is.

Despite everything I feel, I almost laugh at the way he’s dressed. “It’s not right seeing Ern dressed like an assassin,” I quietly remark, looking him over. I made the comment more for Soren, given that I still haven’t had a conversation with my dad since I got here, but it’s Ern—well, my father—that replies with, “I thought to walk beside you with a face you at least somewhat recognize.”