Ivorin motioned for me to move down the stairs again. We quickly came to the next floor. I kept one arm around Syrin’s waist and the other holding his arm in place over my shoulders. Syrin stumbled along as we entered a hallway, Ivorin supporting his other side. After what felt like far too long, Ivorin shoved through a door instead of just passing it.

  I stumbled through and saw… Flowers. Flowers everywhere. In full bloom. Roses, lilacs, daffodils, and flowers that I didn’t recognize. A bush of Pixie’s Hush was potted in the corner, its pink flowers glowing faintly. It was beautiful.

  “What is this place?” I whispered.

  “A memorial,” Ivorin said tightly.

  We dragged Syrin to a couch along one wall, practically dumping him there. He curled up, jaw clenched far too tight and shaking.

  I glanced at Ivorin. “He seemed to know what the people were thinking before. How?”

  Ivorin didn’t take his eyes off Syrin, but he said, “If they are trying to force a bond, then they are trying to force a mind connection, and Syrinthinor’s mind is connected to the Light.”

  “But they can’t read his mind?” I asked.

  Syrin let out a sharp breath. “No. Fighting too hard. Plus, hates—” Syrin cut off again, shaking.

  My fingers twitched at my side as I realized Syrin was still listening, still aware of us, and I’d just dumped him on the couch alone. I glanced at Ivorin standing stiffly a few feet away. Maybe that was better. Maybe being too close would just distract Syrin. Answers first.

  I looked back at Ivorin, who finally shifted his gaze to me. “The Light is furious with them,” Ivorin filled in. “It will shield Syrinthinor. Forcing a bond is extremely dangerous. If they change focus, the Light would just burn their minds to nothing, and Syrinthinor may not stop it.”

  Syrin grimaced but said nothing, still shaking.

  “But…” I paused, trying to put all the pieces together. “Someone was definitely trying to kill us before on Earth. If they need Syrin to hold it back…”

  “I suspect that this was their secondary plan,” Ivorin said. “No one knows what would happen if the Light had no Keeper. Perhaps it would be desperate enough to take any offered bond.”

  “That seems like an incredibly stupid plan,” I said.

  Ivorin’s lips quirked. “Quite stupid,” he agreed. “Which is why I suspect the real mastermind of all this is not in that room. They are trying things. Sacrificing others until something works.”

  Suddenly, Syrin stiffened, every muscle going tight. A tear rolled down his cheek, and I couldn’t help the tiny step forward.

  Ivorin raised an eyebrow.

  Syrin shuddered again. “Trina,” he whispered. His hand twitched at his side, fingers curling as if he was fighting the urge to grab onto something.

  I didn’t wait. Ivorin’s look was slightly disapproving, but he didn’t move to stop me.

  I slipped down on the couch, right next to Syrin, and his hand immediately gripped mine, hard, almost painfully. I flinched, but he was too gone to notice anything. Carefully, I loosened his grip just enough, then shifted to lean into him instead.

  And something felt… wrong. Like I could feel the pressure inside Syrin. I swore softly. I had to be imagining that, right? Imagined or not, he was suffering.

  I gripped him tighter, slipping my arm around his back and imagining how the Light had felt inside me before during the healing. Was he feeling that now? I rubbed his back. Maybe that could summon the cool light somehow. The healing one. Syrin’s breath hitched, then evened slightly, so I kept it up.

  We just sat there, Syrin trembling against me. The scent of flowers filled my nose, lovely and wrong in the moment. A cruel kindness. Syrin’s words echoed in my mind, and I stiffened.

  A memorial. Flowers. Lights, this room was in memory of Syrin’s mother, wasn’t it? He said he hated the smell of flowers. Was it because of this room? Were we making it worse?

  Syrin’s arm shifted, tightening around me as his breath hitched sharply. I shifted, running my fingers along his back, trying to keep him grounded here, in a room that reminded him too much of his parents.

  Eventually, I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I looked back up at Ivorin. “Why put Syrin’s father to sleep?” I asked quietly. “Why not just…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the question.

  Syrin flinched against me.

  Ivorin’s expression fractured a little. “I don’t know the answer. I suspect two reasons. If Syrinthinor died, and the Light wouldn’t accept a new Keeper, perhaps they would need him. Though they have Serelyn, the new heir. She is… reluctant to cooperate, but also terrified.”

  Syrin hissed like he’d heard that, eyes still shut tight.

  “And the second reason?” I asked.

  “The city would panic if Ithalanor died, especially with Syrinthinor missing. This way the citizens are afraid. The Keeper is asleep, one heir is missing, the other dead—but the Light is still controlled. There is a budding heir-in-training. Our enemy is doing this from the inside. They don’t want Crithnon to collapse. They just want to control it.”

  Syrin curled in slightly, panting. I shifted my tracing to along his shoulders, and a brief spurt of anger flared inside. Whoever was doing this was hurting him, and people were just… letting this happen? “Why don’t the people do something? Surely they can’t be happy about forcing the Light to bond, right?”

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  Ivorin grimaced. “I’m afraid it’s a two-pronged attack. Both physical and ideological. The Closed Hand is more popular than ever.”

  Syrin froze. The shaking, everything, vanished as his arm tightened around me. “They… They’re turning them away.” He sounded absolutely furious.

  Ivorin winced. “Ah. Perhaps that revelation should have come later.”

  “Who?” I asked hesitantly.

  “The petitioners.” Ivorin clarified. “Just the foreigners, but for the moment, Serelyn and the other healers have been instructed to heal only those who can pay.”

  Syrin was still frozen, but he was… absolutely burning now.

  “Syrinthinor,” Ivorin said sharply, backing away.

  Syrin’s breathing was completely uneven, and somehow I knew if he was losing control here… the other side had to be worse. It wasn’t us the Light was angry with.

  The air got hotter. “Trina,” Ivorin barked. “Let go. We may have to run—”

  I ignored the words, tightening my grip on Syrin. If he lost control…

  Those people.

  And Syrin would never forgive himself. I held on tightly. My nerves complained. Too hot. Unsafe, but it was paradise compared to the healing earlier. I took his face in my hands, forcing Syrin to look at me. His eyes fluttered open, glazed with pain.

  “We’ll fix it,” I said firmly. “Syrin, I promise, but right now… Right now I need you to control the fire. Please.”

  He let out a hissing breath, leaning harder into me until I was practically being pushed over. Somehow, it felt like the Light pushing on me too. Was he accidentally pushing my infection? I tried to keep my breathing even. The shadow inside me twitched like it was in pain again as heat spiked.

  The pressure was wrong again.

  I looked frantically for Ivorin. He’d reappeared on Syrin’s other side, though he still looked cautious. The air cooled again, and Ivorin’s hands clamped down on Syrin’s arm, securing him and saving me from his weight.

  I clung tighter. “It’s okay, Syrin. Happy thoughts. Pandas. Giraffes. Ice cream. Horchata. Joggers.”

  Syrin shuddered, but after what seemed like an eternity, the temperature dropped again almost to what it was before. “But no hippos,” he muttered.

  I blinked. Had he just made a joke now, of all times? “No water cows,” I whispered back.

  Ivorin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it.

  Syrin’s lips quirked up ever so slightly for the briefest moment, and then he shook with a sob. At first, I thought something catastrophic had happened, but then he rested his head on my hair and almost collapsed completely into me.

  Relief. That was a sob of relief.

  Syrin’s face stayed tucked into my shoulder, but he said, “It’s finishing. They’re done trying to bond the Light.” His arm around me tightened. “For now.”

  Ivorin froze. “Why did they stop?”

  “I lost control. Not badly, but…" Syrin shuddered. "The Light burned some of those trying, and…” His voice cracked. “And a few civilians.”

  I sucked in a breath and caressed his back. "Syrin, it's not..."

  He let out a heaving breath, lifting his head. “I know. It could have been much worse.” He stared at the wall. “It almost was. If you—If you hadn’t…”

  He shuddered again, hiding his face.

  “Syrin?”

  He didn’t look up, but he whispered, “They'll let Serelyn heal those that are there as a sort of reward for their support.” His fist clenched.

  “At least it’s over,” Ivorin said.

  Syrin flinched. "They'll try again."

  I frowned. “Will they? They were playing chicken, and they flinched first.”

  Syrin looked up at me slowly, confused. “Chicken? I don’t… There are no birds?”

  Oh, right. Not a thing here. “It’s a game people play on Earth. You drive at each other to see who swerves first.”

  “But there were no cars involved,” Syrin said, voice still unsure.

  “I mean they stopped because they were sure you’d stop the fire and were apparently confident enough in your control to mess around with it.” I continued. “But now you know they’ll pull back first. They don’t want to die. If you stop intervening, they’d have to pull back immediately.”

  Syrin nodded slowly. “For now, that may be true. They didn’t expect to die. They were told I would stop it.” He released me, wrapping his arms around himself, and his voice dropped. “But what happens when someone is willing to die trying, and knows I won’t let others burn with them?”

  I went quiet because, as much as I wished I did, I didn’t have an answer for that. Not one that Syrin wanted to hear.

  Syrin lifted his hand. It was shaking badly. He glared at it, but the shaking didn’t stop. His shoulders curled slightly. “I… I don’t know that I’ll be much help now,” he admitted.

  I took his hand, forcing him to lower it, to stop staring. Ivorin let out a long breath. “You’re not leaving. Not yet. If people were burned, they’ll be rushing them down to the healing wing. This tower is about to become full of observers. Lords might waltz in demanding to know what happened. People in the street will want to know why the flame flared.”

  “Isn’t chaos a better time to escape?” I asked.

  “Perhaps,” Ivorin allowed. “But with a man on the verge of collapse?”

  I shrugged. “We could pretend he was burned. A patient.”

  Ivorin let out a long breath. “Everyone in this city knows what Syrinthinor looks like.”

  I shrugged. “We cover his face.”

  Syrin slipped against me again, weight settling firmly against my side. He seemed to be following the conversation, but just barely. He was blinking too often now and too slowly.

  Ivorin grimaced. “It’s not a bad plan, but where will you go? I received your letter, but didn’t have much time to prepare.”

  I blinked. Letter? But Ivorin just continued, “My movements have been… somewhat limited as of late. I cannot guarantee a safe place to lie low. Not yet.”

  “But isn’t the Tower worse?” I asked.

  Syrin’s head settled against my shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. Ivorin glanced at him, as if to say, you really think we should move him?

  “People know what he looks like outside, but he was living here, they are more likely to recognize him,” I insisted. “On the streets he’d at least be unexpected, right? Easier to brush off with the red hair? And you said my mother is waiting below. She has to have some sort of plan.”

  Syrin gave a small huff that seemed like affirmation. “Warehouse district,” he muttered.

  Ivorin raised an eyebrow. “You planned to hide on the docks?”

  Syrin let out another hum. “Friend there. Not mine, Animari’s.”

  Ivorin clicked his tongue. “And you think they will help?”

  Syrin’s head lifted again. “Helped smuggle her out of the city when she wanted to…” He yawned, eyes closing for a second. “Wanted to see the countryside,” he finished firmly. “Should have a place to hide.”

  I raised an eyebrow. See the countryside? Via the docks? Syrin didn’t look at me. Instead, he practically collapsed back onto my shoulder, breath already evening out.

  Ivorin cursed, then began pacing.

  “Syrin?” I whispered.

  He hummed.

  “Do you think you could walk again? Just for a minute?”

  He stiffened, but then relaxed again. “The Light is worried. Could probably make a brace. Not for long, but long enough to get a carriage to the docks.”

  He hummed again. “Need to ask Ivorin for money. Or we could… take the donations.”

  “Donations?” I asked, sharper than I meant to. That seemed very un-Syrin-like.

  He didn’t answer for a moment, and I thought he’d fallen asleep, then: “For my Mother, to keep up the magic here. She’d rather I survived.”

  It seemed Ivorin had heard that because he paused his pacing before letting out a long breath. “I suppose my sister would find that appropriate.”

  He inclined his head. “You may take them.” He glanced at the door. He looked more worn down than when this had all started. That hadn’t even been that long ago. “I will go check things in the tower, make sure that people are moving, and find something to disguise Syrinthinor.”

  There was a weird fluttering of warmth inside me, but it aligned almost exactly with a flicker in Syrin’s glow. What was going on?

  Ivorin frowned. “You truly want to leave now, Nephew?”

  “Have to,” Syrin murmured.

  Ivorin didn’t look happy about it, but he swiped his foot across the floor in front of us, and a weird shimmer appeared for a moment before fading away.

  “I’ll be back,” he said. With that, he disappeared out the door.