“The gods aren’t who they’re trying to deter, Lady Oree.” This came from the man at the table’s far end. I stiffened. “It’s us they hope to appease.”

I knew that voice. I had heard it before—three times, now. At the south promenade, just before I’d killed the Order-Keepers. On Madding’s rooftop before all chaos had broken loose. And later, as I’d lain shivering and sick after my release from the Empty.

He sat at the far end of the table, opposite Serymn, radiating the same easy confidence as she. Of course he did; he was their Nypri.

As I sat there, trembling with fear and fury, Serymn chuckled. “Blunt as ever, Dateh.”

“It’s only the truth.” He sounded amused.

“Hmm. What my husband means to say, Lady Oree, is that the Order, and through it the Arameri family, desperately hopes to convince the rest of mortalkind that the world is as it should be. That despite the presence of all our new gods, nothing else should change—politically speaking. That we should feel happy… safe… complacent.”

Husband. An Arameri fullblood married to a heretic cultist?

“You’re not making any sense,” I said. I focused on the fork in my fingers, on the crackle of the dining room’s fireplace in the background. Those helped me stay calm. “You’re talking about the Arameri as if you’re not one of them.”

“Indeed. Let’s just say that my activities aren’t sanctioned by the rest of my family.”

The Nypri sounded amused. “Oh, they might approve—if they knew.”

Serymn laughed at this, as did others around the table. “Do you really think so? You’re far more of an optimist than I, my love.”

They bantered while I sat there, trying to make sense of nobility and conspiracy and a thousand other things that had never been a part of my life. I was just a street artist. Just an ordinary Maroneh, frightened and far from home.

“I don’t understand,” I said finally, interrupting them. “You’ve kidnapped me, brought me here. You’re trying to force me to join you. What does all this—the Nightlord, the Order, the Arameri—have to do with me?”

“More than you realize,” said the Nypri. “The world is in great danger at the moment—not just from the Nightlord’s wrath. Consider: for the first time in centuries, the Arameri are vulnerable. Oh, they still have immense political and financial strength, and they’re building an army that will make any rebel nation think twice. But they can be defeated now. Do you know what that means?”

“That someday we might have a different group of tyrants in charge?” Despite my efforts to be polite, I was growing annoyed. They kept talking in circles, never answering my questions.

Serymn seemed unoffended. “Perhaps—but which group? Every noble clan and ruling council and elected minister will want the chance to rule the Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. And if they all strive for it at once, what do you think will happen?”

“More scandals and intrigues and assassinations and whatever else you people do with your time,” I said. Lady Nemmer would be pleased, at least.

“Yes. And coups, as weak nobles are replaced by stronger or more ambitious ones. And rebellions within those lands, as minority factions jostle for a share. And new alliances as smaller kingdoms band together for strength. And betrayals, because every alliance has a few.” Serymn let out a long, weary sigh. “War, Lady Oree. There will be war.”

Like the good Itempan girl I had never quite been, I nevertheless flinched. War was anathema to Bright Itempas. I had heard tales of the time before the Bright, before the Arameri had made laws to strictly regulate violence and conflict. In the old days, thousands had died in every battle. Cities had been razed to the ground, their inhabitants slaughtered as armies of warriors descended upon helpless civilians to rape and kill.

“Wh-where?” I asked.

“Everywhere.”

I could not imagine it. Not on such a scale. It was madness. Chaos.

Then I remembered. Nahadoth, the Lord of Night, was also the god of chaos. What more fitting vengeance could he wreak upon humanity?

“If the Arameri fall and the Bright ends, war returns,” Serymn said. “The Order of Itempas fears this more than any threat the gods pose, because it is the greater danger—not just to a city, but to our entire civilization. Already there are rumors of unrest in High North and on the islands—those lands that were forcibly converted to the worship of Itempas after the Gods’ War. They have never forgotten, or forgiven, what we did to them.”