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I’d always known he was more than just a normal tiger, but something about the scene of him standing before me with a crown on his head, so far away from the original Branding stage where he’d first stalked up to me… it was like an unearthed dream, a memory I had never experienced but should have long ago.

An equally strange emotion seemed to flicker within Jagaros’s eyes before he regained composure.

“My true form was lost long ago. But this is probably the closest I can get to it, considering that this—” He jerked his head sideways, toward a new figure climbing the closest set of stairs to our platform. “—is my younger brother, Kanuk.”

The faerie who came to a halt beside Jagaros technically could have been his twin, but only in physicality, not in the micro-expressions. Where Jagaros’s lips curled down, Kanuk’s tilted up, a smirk springing onto his face as he assessed our group.

“When you said we had allies, brother, I didn’t know you meant children.”

Behind me, my friends broke out in a chorus of arguments immediately.

“Actually, we’re legally adults.”

“Twenty years old, to be exact.”

“Speak for yourself, I’m twenty-one!”

Kanuk glanced at Jagaros, and I didn’t have to lower my blockade to know what that glance meant: my point exactly.

Jagaros shot him a glare that seemed to say, Don’t underestimate the abilities of younglings.

Okay, maybe I’d lowered my blockade a little bit. But it was nice to know Jagaros was on our side, ready to defend our capabilities to his brother and… God of the Cosmos, he had a brother. Did he have any other family? Were there any other faeries in this strange, beautiful Uninhabitable Zone, or just these two? Who had built it? Why did Esholians think it was dangerous?

So many questions whipped through me that I didn’t know which one to voice first. And at that moment, a firm hand drifted to the small of my back as Coen stepped up beside me and cleared his throat.

“As riveting as it is to go around the circle and clarify our ages, the clock’s ticking.” His shoulders twitched, and I frowned at the movement. “Or should we discuss our war plans here?”

To be honest, plopping down between railings twined with lilies and basking in this pool of sunlight sounded like a perfect afternoon to me, but Jagaros sighed and jerked his head. “No. Follow me.”

He whipped around and stalked back down that sweeping staircase, his footsteps just as graceful and predatory as when he was a tiger. Glancing at each other, Coen and I followed with the others trailing not too far behind.

“So is this where you brought the exiled ones?” I asked Jagaros, drinking in the sight of the dwellings beyond the balconies above us. They cut into the rising landscape, open-faced plazas chiseled deep into the cliffs as if the Uninhabitable Zone and the jungle had melted together until they were one.

Jagaros glanced at me with a flash of surprise, continuing down a narrow pathway that led to a gazebo rising from one of the ponds.

“Yes. It is the one place left on this island that Dyonisia has sworn not to touch. The one place the Good Council cannot tread. The exiled ones are safe here.”

“Where are they, then?”

For every pathway was vacant, void of any signs of the ones we had saved in Hallow’s Perch. I would have thought they’d be out enjoying this view.

Jagaros stiffened. “They are… adjusting to their lack of magic. Resting.”

The back of my neck prickled. I wondered if Kimber or Jenia were watching our trek toward that distant palace from some open window. I sensed other presences, too, my Mind Manipulating power reaching out and grazing dozens of sharp and powerful minds in the vicinity.

I wouldn’t do that if I were you, little hurricane, Coen whispered in my ear. These ancient faeries are rather sensitive about stolen magic being used against them.

Ancient faeries? As we passed through the gazebo, the ferns coating its pillars sang out to me in a whirlwind of a melody, confirming that yes, yes, yes, some of Jagaros’s people from the past were alive—had survived.

“How many?” I asked him now.

Jagaros led us over an arched bridge, toward another staircase rising to a catwalk above us. “How many what?”

“How many of your faeries can help us fight?”

Not counting Jagaros, Coen, or myself, we only had ten allies behind us. Ten against Dyonisia’s Good Council of hundreds. I had a world of faith in Coen, but even as the Fated General, I couldn’t imagine how he’d pull off a coup with such small numbers.

Jagaros gave another sigh. “You make many assumptions, Rayna Drey.”