But that’s not the only thing lighting up the darkness.

Purple-white sparks dance around my hands, growing weaker by the moment, but plain as day. My lightning. I won’t be able to lie my way out of this one.

Kilorn pulls me to a chair, his face a storm cloud of confusion. The others only stare, and with a pang of sadness, I realize they’re afraid. But Kilorn isn’t afraid at all—he’s angry.

“What did they do to you?” he rumbles, his hands inches from mine. The sparks fade away entirely, leaving just skin and shaking fingers.

“They didn’t do anything.” I wish this was their fault. I wish I could blame this on someone else. I look over Kilorn’s head, meeting Cal’s eyes. Something releases in him and he nods, communicating without words. I don’t have to lie about this.

“This is what I am.”

Kilorn’s frown deepens. “Are you one of them?” I’ve never heard so much anger, so much disgust, forced into a single sentence. It makes me feel like dying. “Are you?”

Mom recovers first and, without a glimmer of fear, takes my hand. “Mare is my daughter, Kilorn,” she says, fixing him with a frightening stare I didn’t know she could muster. “We all know that.”

My family murmurs in agreement, rallying to my side, but Kilorn remains unconvinced. He stares at me like I’m a stranger, like we haven’t known each other all our lives.

“Give me a knife and I’ll settle this right now,” I say, glaring back at him. “I’ll show you what color I bleed.”

This calms him a bit and he pulls back. “I just—I don’t understand.”

That makes two of us.

“I think I’m with Kilorn on this one. We know who you are, Mare, but—” Bree stumbles, searching for the right thing to say. He’s never been one for words. “How?”

I barely know what to say, but I do my best to explain. Again, I’m painfully aware of Cal standing over me, always listening, so I leave out the Guard and Julian’s findings, to lay out the last three weeks as plainly as possible. Pretending to be Silver, being betrothed to a prince, learning to control myself—it sounds preposterous, but they listen intently.

“We don’t know how or why, just that this is,” I finish, holding out my other hand. I don’t miss Tramy flinch away. “We might never know what this means.”

Mom’s hand tightens on mine in a display of support. The small comfort does wonders for me. I’m still angry, still devastatingly sad, but the need to destroy something fades. I’m gaining back some semblance of control, enough to keep myself in check.

“I think it’s a miracle,” she murmurs, forcing a smile for my sake. “We’ve always wanted better for you and now, we’re getting it. Bree and Tramy are safe, Gisa won’t have to worry, we can live happy, and you”—her watery eyes meet mine—“you, my dear, will be someone special. What more can a mother ask?”

I wish her words were true but I nod anyway, smiling for my mother and my family. I’m getting better at lying and they seem to believe me. But not Kilorn. He still seethes, trying to hold back another outburst.

“What’s he like, the prince?” Mom prods. “Maven?”

Dangerous ground. I can feel Cal listening, waiting to hear what I have to say about his younger brother. What can I say? That he’s kind? That I’m beginning to like him? That I still don’t know if I can trust him? Or worse, that I can never trust anyone again? “He’s not what I expected.”

Gisa notes my discomfort and turns toward Cal. “So who’s this, your bodyguard?” she says, changing the subject with the slightest wink.

“I am,” Cal says, answering for me. He knows I don’t want to lie to my family, not more than I have to. “And I’m sorry, but we have to be going soon.”

His words are like a twisting knife, but I must obey them. “Yes.”

Mom stands with me, holding on to my hand so tightly I’m afraid it might break. “We won’t say anything, of course.”

“Not a word,” Dad agrees. My siblings nod as well, swearing to be silent.

But Kilorn’s face falls into a dark scowl. For some reason, he’s become so angry and I can’t for the life of me say why. But I’m angry too. Shade’s death still weighs on me like a terrible stone. “Kilorn?”

“Yeah, I won’t talk,” he spits. Before I can stop him, he gets up from his chair and sweeps out in a whirlwind that spins the air. The door slams behind him, shaking the walls. I’m used to Kilorn’s emotions, his rare moments of despair, but this rage is something new from him. I don’t know how to deal with it.