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Rheya and Arun had blamed Finbar for facilitating Erik’s attack on the island, linking his disappearance to his guilt. Meanwhile, as they’d questioned me, the Imperial Healer had stood beside them—had even dosed me with a relaxant to protect Erik’s secrets rather than my own.

“I started my life in Ansora working in the Coal Quarter,” Stian said now. “I knew the guards outside the documents office, and I convinced them to leave their posts early.”

Which was why Zeke, too, had been able to break in so easily. Why he’d only found six smuggling routes when there should’ve been seven.

Stian’s features creased with discomfort again. “If I’d known the extent of Erik’s plans on the island—”

“Then you would have sent him the ithoric, too?” I said with bite. “Do not insult me by pretending to care about the lives you’ve ended on his behalf. I know you set the fire at the settlement.”

“A necessary evil,” he insisted. “When my contacts at the Coal Quarter told me a young woman was scouring my old clinics and apartments, I began watching her movements. When I found her scoping out the settlement, searching for someone I’d known back in Vereen, I knew what had to be done.”

Imogen. My heart squeezed as I remembered her final breaths.

Fires are for people who don’t want to see the blood on their hands, Mara had said. She’d been right. Because Stian had set that fire not just to eliminate Mara, but to eliminate his old acquaintance too.

“You must understand,” he said, his brow deeply furrowed. “I never meant for you to feel their loss.”

I blinked, startled. “Innocent people are dead, and you’re concerned about what I feel?” I shook my head, huffing a bitter laugh. “You speak in the manner of a good man. But the people in your life have always mattered less to you than power.”

Stian gave a small, sorrowful smile. “Erik was right about you.”

“That I’m weak?” I spat. “Unworthy of my power?”

“That your heart often stops you from doing what is necessary,” he said softly. “And that it prevents you from claiming the power he wishes you would take.”

The moment he spoke the words, I knew he was aware of Erik’s ambitions regarding the compass. And I knew, too, that Finbar hadn’t rebelled against Rheya because of Arun.

I don’t trust anyone who seeks to remember that which should remain forgotten. Finbar must’ve been referring to the history of the Hollows, a history I believed he knew well. A history that Stian had probably investigated at some point over the years, in an attempt to regain his son’s favor.

Which was why, all along, Finbar hadn’t trusted Stian.

He’d been right not to. Because the Imperial Healer would strive to give Erik everything he wanted.

Including me.

I swallowed drily, cold with dread. Stian had seen the realization in my eyes as he’d been trying to save Keil. And I’d seen in his eyes a grim, mournful resolve.

Because now that his secret lay between us . . . he would have no choice but to act.

“You could have told the others about me,” he said quietly, as though retroactively offering me a route out of these next moments.

“No, I couldn’t have,” I said. Not only because I wouldn’t have interfered with him treating Keil, but because I wouldn’t let any more of my allies—my friends—get hurt tonight because of me.

This part was my fight alone. It had been from the moment Erik had claimed me for himself, all those years ago at the Opal.

“You could have left the palace,” Stian pressed. “You could have run.”

I shook my head, my heart rate rising. “I couldn’t have done that either.” Because ever since I’d run from Erik’s palace, I hadn’t truly stopped running.

Preventing the inevitable will only prolong the suffering. Erik had been right. This had always been inevitable.

“Then, at the very least,” Stian said, resigned, “you should have changed out of those clothes.”

He’d said the same words upon entering the room. Only now, he didn’t try to hide the meaning behind them.

The meaning that he intended to take me now.

Though I’d been ready for this, I couldn’t keep from stumbling back—only to hit a wall of his specter. His power retreated immediately, and the message was clear: He didn’t want to be my jailor.