“Who is then?” Giya asked.
Silas crossed over to us, his shoulder-length hair unbound. More gray had threaded itself through the brown, our disappearance indubitably the source of these silvering strands. He stopped beside Iba. “I am.”
Relief washed over me. “Thank Gejaiwe.”
Remo sucked in a breath. I took it that was news to him, too. Good news, since his quaking had lessened.
“Joshua might bedraca,” Iba added, “but I am still king.” His face was set with the confidence and calm of someone who knew how to do his job, and do it well.
“We’ll keep him in line,” Silas added.
“Where’s Gregor?” I asked.
Silas stared around the apartment, and it struck me it might be Gregor’s—so garishly fancy, and that painting of Neverra. Who else longed to immortalize Neverra with the mist? “Awaiting his trial,” he finally said.
I peeked over my shoulder, found the vein at Remo’s temple distending, found his fingers balled into fists.
“Now, I know you’re all tired, but Silas and I would really like to hear what you kids have endured these last three weeks,” Iba said.
Three weeks?We’d been gone three weeks?
Silas dismissed thelucionagain attendance until only my family and Remo’s remained. Oh, and Cruz. He was still there, arms crossed, standing on the outskirts of our tight-knit circle. He’d find his place eventually.
As my eyes swung back toward my father, they caught on my aunt, tucked into the crook of Geemee’s tattooed arm, her cheek pressed into his chest. As I watched them, reassurance washed over me. What they shared, what they’d built was solid and beautiful and would withstand the return of Cruz Vega.
Nima threaded her fingers through Iba’s. “It’s just us. You can speak freely.”
Where to begin?
Without missing a beat, Giya said, “Well, Sook was eaten by a shark.”
Even though it wasn’t really funny, I burst out laughing. She too laughed. Sook grinned but shoved his sister, which earned him a glower from his father. Finally, the tension on Remo’s face dissipated. He didn’t smile, but his golden eyes sparkled, and then his hand found the curve of my hip.
Which of course drew both our parents’ attention and filled my face with so much heat I wanted to pierce my skin and let some steam out. In a way, though, I was glad for that tiny gesture. Glad that no-strings-attached Remo apparently came with strings of his own.
We detailed every trial, listened to Giya and Sook recount their ownadventures, and then Cruz was put on the spot. His eyes sort of glazed over as he recounted his story. Once we were done talking, the silence that fell over the adults was thick and bleak.
“Oh, and Iba, none of our powers worked.” I didn’t mention Karsyn’s dust, preferring to discuss him later and privately.
My father stared and stared, nerves feathering his jaw. “Silas, find out how that’s possible.”
The newwariffnodded, contempt and worry stamped into the furrows of his forehead.
He began to turn when Sook asked, “What will happen to Gregor?”
Silas and Iba exchanged a grave look.
“What do you suggest?” Iba asked.
Remo’s hand tensed on my hip.
“Stick him inside his prison,” Sook suggested.
Iba bobbed his head, storing that suggestion.
“He kept Kingston alive,massin.” Remo’s voice was as sharp as the dagger I’d produced the day we’d wandered through the inn . . . the one he’d called a butter knife. “That’s treason.”
Faith gasped, because we all knew how treason was punished.
