With Esharah and Mensikhana’s confirmation that the area behind the guesthouse was clear, Aven slipped out the window. Voidclaws extending to allow him to rappel down the side, landing softly on the grass two stories below. Even this late at night, there were enough walkers on the street that one more didn’t arouse suspicion, and cloaked as he was, the black veins of the void weren’t visible.

  The moon was a sliver, and the streets were dark, even with the fish-oil lamps hung outside every household by the governor’s decree. There was an old temple that Aelia had chosen for the meeting place, once an independent temple to the ideal of Harmony before it had been merged with others in Citadel Hill. Apparently, Harmony was an Ideal for lower classes, not the wealthy and powerful of Northstar who favored so-called higher Ideals.

  Aven found the temple door locked, which was a barrier for all of the five seconds it took him to thread the void into the mechanism to shove the bolt back. The inside was dark. All furniture had long since been removed, leaving only a stone hall leading to the altar. Side walls adorned with the waves that symbolized Harmony, and the back wall bearing frescoes showing the Legends of Harmony. Two were worn enough to make them indistinguishable. The last showed the marriage of Emperor Leras and Malaiah Genthi, uniting the southern kingdom of Tarnis and the northern kingdom of Ganthus in centuries so far past that history faded to legend.

  Mother and Father often made Aven question whether marriage was an appropriate symbol of Harmony.

  The doors opened and closed, and Aven’s turned to see his sister.

  Helena. A stranger in the dark gown of a magistrate. A stranger who was also family, with a face more stern and less open than he remembered. Of course, the last time they’d actually seen each other was at her wedding two years ago, so circumstances probably played a role.

  “Helena,” Aven said, throat closing a bit.

  “Aven,” she replied.

  Gods, what on earth did you say to a sister you hadn’t seen since before you murdered your father?

  “You have a few minutes, at the most,” Esharah’s mental voice reminded Aven. “Hanion has already detected my mind. Even together, we can only keep his attention so long.”

  Right. This wasn’t just a reunion. Nor could he linger, not when Mensikhana and Esharah were currently fighting a mental battle against Helena’s captor.

  “Hanion vis Dreamweaver isn’t who you think,” Aven began, casting pleasantries aside.

  Helena gave him a flat look, “I think he is a dangerous, unscrupulous, and unpredictable man who is using me for goals I do not understand.”

  “Oh.” Aven blinked. “Then he’s exactly who you think.”

  He hadn’t actually considered the possibility that Helena was fully aware of Hanion’s identity. That simplified things. And raised further questions. “Then why in the hells are you working with him?”

  Helena’s expression remained guarded. “Why do you think I would work for a man like that?”

  He’d already considered the horrible possibility, but had hoped she was being controlled by mere deception. “Gods. Emil? Leda?”

  “Are both safe, for now,” a faint tremor disrupted Helena’s voice, but she mastered it quickly. She was always good at that. Far better at controlling emotions than he was. Even with her husband and daughter in danger, she still could keep a measure of control. “In exchange for my continued cooperation.”

  Black fury rose in Aven’s veins, and the Battle Mind split off that rage so he could think. “That bastard. I’ll-”

  “You’ll what?” Helena’s voice cut in like a blade. “You’ll kill him? Like you did Father?”

  Aven flinched back, rage cooling, “...I killed Father because he tried to kill me. Did you know that?”

  “I didn’t,” Helena replied, glancing down. She wasn’t surprised, though. “Because of the void?”

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  “Because I refused to be a part of the Shadow Order any longer.” Aven clenched his fists, then released them. “Because I turned out to be the wrong sort of monster. The Order are murderers. They call it justice, claim it’s for the good of the empire, but it’s just for their own gain. Ralius Tallone died because he realized how wrong it was. It took me longer to realize the same.”

  “I knew Father was training you for...something,” Helena whispered. “Something other than the legions. But this...”

  “That’s the past.” Aven tried to brush it aside. Tried to pretend that talking about it didn’t dredge up memories of his voidclaw piercing through Father’s chest. Letting the past drag him back in would only distract from the immediate dangers. “I thought I killed Hanion back then. Clearly, I failed. This isn’t about me, Helena. This is about your family.”

  “I know it’s about my family!” Helena snapped, a crack in her composure. “Do you think I have forgotten for a single day what I am protecting them from? Have you even thought about my family for a single moment until now? They are in danger because of you. And Hanion, and Father, and the rest of the Shadow Order, whomever they may be. But also you. You left me to pick up the pieces. To answer for your crimes.”

  That he had. And never spared a thought for what that actually meant for Helena or her family. Part of him had just assumed that with Father dead and Aven gone, Helena would be free from the darkness of House Arvanius.

  “I am sorry for that,” Aven said. And for the second time in one day, he offered a useless apology for a wound he could not heal.

  Helena closed her eyes, one hand over her chest as she stilled her breathing, “I...can’t forgive you. Not yet. Not while my husband and daughter are still in danger.”

  “Then let me help you,” Aven reached out a hand. “Let me help you protect them.”

  “And how will you do that?” Helena asked, a bitter smile on her lips. “By charging into the delegation hall and trying to stab him in front of everyone?”

  Aven winced. Another fair point for Helena. No wonder she was a magistrate; her mind cut as deeply as any power of the void. “No, but...” He paused. The offer had come on pure reflex. He had no idea how he would begin to actually help her. Not without knowing what Hanion actually had planned. Or how Hanion was using Emil and Leda as leverage.

  “I do not know what help you can offer, nor do you, obviously,” Helena said. “So, I will ask you to at least have the decency to not make things worse. Not again.”

  It stung all the more because it was true. Aven struggled to think of any time in his life he’d actually helped Helena. At least in a way that really mattered. She was the responsible one, the proper Tarnis lady. He was the murderer.

  “If you don’t want my help, then why did you agree to meet?” Aven asked.

  For a moment, Helena’s gaze softened. For a moment, she looked exactly as she did in his memories of childhood. When she would help bandage his wounds after Father’s brutal training. “Because...even after all this, you are still my brother. And I needed to see for myself if you were the monster they say you are.”

  Aven’s black veins itched, void flowing beneath the skin. “And am I?”

  “I don’t know,” Helena admitted. “I want to believe you aren’t. But I don’t know you, Aven. I’m not sure how many years it’s been since I did know you. How long...how long had Father used you as a murderer?”

  “At the time of Father’s death...I’d been officially a part of the Shadow Order for three years,” Aven replied.

  Helena shuddered, “Since Ralius’ death.”

  “Aye. I was...” Aven paused to muster the courage to confess the crime. “I was the one who killed him, at Father’s command. It was my...initiation.”

  Helena’s eyes closed, taking in the confession. Once, in time long past, Helena Arvanius and Ralius Talone had been betrothed. Aven could only thank whatever gods there were that she had found Emil after Ralius’ death. That she had emerged from the sudden, horrific tragedy to find a light on the other side.

  Helena’s gaze looked far away, “You were at my wedding. When I arrived with you on one side and Father on the other, I was surrounded by murderers. I...when Mother asked me to come with her, I stayed because I believed her experiments with the void were too monstrous to associate with. And instead I chose to remain with a pair of equal monsters.”

  Nothing Aven could say would refute the accusations. Helena deserved a far better family than any of them had given her. So did Viola, for that matter, but she’d left with Mother by her own choice. Of all of them, Helena alone had the chance to escape the darkness and live a normal, happy life. And now she was dragged back into the darkness with the rest of them. Who could blame her for being bitter at that?

  “Hurry, Aven,” Esharah’s mental touch was urgent. “Hanion’s repelled all our attacks. Even two on one, we can barely keep up. He’s noticed that Helena’s is gone and he’s-”

  A spike of psychic pain jolted through their connection. Silence from Esharah. Just a sensation of fighting, a battle that absorbed all her concentration.

  “We’re running out of time,” Aven reported aloud. “Do you know what Hanion wants?”

  “I do not,” Helena said. “He installed me as Magistrate so that I can punish or pardon those he directs, but this meeting...”

  She trailed off. She clearly had just as little insight into Hanion’s goals as Aven did.

  Helena stopped as the door creaked, the sound seeming loud as tolling bells in the dark stone space.

  “Is it him?” Aven asked through the mental connection.

  Esharah’s answer didn’t come before two figures walked through the door.

  The last two members of Aven’s family, side by side. Mother in front and Viola behind her.

  In the corner of Aven’s eye, he saw the flicker of a black felin vanish through the window. Teja. It seemed he’d been followed the entire time.

  Mother smiled and held out her arms, “Helena, Aven. All my beautiful children together again.”

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