Call sucked in a breath.

“What?” demanded Jasper.

Tamara exploded with anger. “That’s not what we agreed to! It was that he should destroy Master Joseph and then everything would be forgiven!” She whirled around to face Call. “I told them you didn’t mean it when you said you were the Enemy of Death, that you were just saying it so Alex and Master Joseph didn’t know you were on our side. I know you brought Aaron back because you care about him, Call, and not for any other reason.”

“Graves, this is insupportable,” said Rufus. “He is a child. You cannot ask him to destroy himself.”

“He is the Enemy of Death,” said Graves. “He said so himself.”

Call started to back away. He felt sick. Master Rufus might argue, but the Assembly had already decided, and the Assembly called the shots. They wanted him dead. There was nothing he could do about it.

“Call,” Master Rufus said. “Call, come back —”

But Call was gone, sprinting across the grass toward Alex’s army, toward Anastasia Tarquin and the Chaos-ridden. He’d spent so much time trying to escape them, he never thought he’d be fleeing toward them.

Havoc ran to greet him, barking, his coruscating eyes shining in the moonlight like points of fire. Call grabbed his ruff and ran the rest of the way, half leaning on the wolf, his bad leg aching along with his head.

He would have gone back to the house, but too many Chaos-ridden and Assembly traitors blocked his way. Alex stood beside Kimiya and Anastasia. He was grinning. Aaron was slightly behind him. Hugo had a hand on his shoulder — not a friendly hand, but a warning one.

“So how’d you like that, Call?” Alex said. “Kimiya told me they wanted you to sacrifice yourself to take out Master Joseph. She overheard Graves talking about it. Nice to know how much the Magisterium really values you, huh?”

Call felt his heart sink further. That was why Alex had let him go to the parlay. Not because he trusted Call or because he’d been deceived by his pretending to be upset, but because he believed Call wouldn’t sacrifice himself.

And he’d been right. Call had run away from the Assembly mages. Call thought back to his first year learning magic. The end of his private Cinquain. Call wants to live.

“Tamara,” Kimiya said. “Was Tamara all right? She’s not going to fight, is she?”

Call opened his mouth, then shut it again. Kimiya didn’t deserve to know about Tamara. Didn’t deserve to pretend to care about Tamara when she’d abandoned her.

“I’ve got the Alkahest,” said Alex, raising his arm. “You fight with us, Call, or you die and Aaron dies. Now you see that, right?”

Call took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He felt like screaming. He felt like crying. But he couldn’t do either one.

“Yeah, they made me an insulting offer. So what? They already abandoned me.” Call looked Alex in the face, trying to turn his anger into confidence. “I already said I had nowhere else to go.”

Alex’s smile tilted. “Glad to hear they didn’t change your mind.”

Aaron came over to him but didn’t ask how he was, didn’t put an arm on his shoulder. “A lot of people are going to die today, aren’t they?” he asked instead. He didn’t sound particularly concerned, just curious.

“I guess so,” Call said. It still seemed impossible, stupid, but it was happening. A lot of people — good people — were going to get hurt. They were going to die like his mother died.

“You’re going to lead the Enemy of Death’s Chaos-ridden on the left flank,” Alex told him. “I am going to lead my own on the right. Anastasia is going to head up the elementals from above. Hugo will lead the mages, who will support us from a safe distance. We will crush them. You don’t mind being on the front lines, right?”

“Of course not,” Call said. He was sure Alex considered Constantine’s Chaos-ridden the most expendable and was willing to sacrifice Call the first chance he got. Maybe even arrange a little accident.

“Aaron is going to stay with me,” Alex said, making the “accident” scenario even more likely.

“I don’t want to do that,” said Aaron in an even tone that made Call a little nervous.

“Well, you’re going to,” Alex said. “But don’t worry about Call. He won’t be all alone. Havoc can go with him.”

At the sound of his name, the Chaos-ridden wolf barked once.

Call looked over at Aaron. He would have insisted that his friend come with him — if it wasn’t that Alex was going to put Call in the most danger possible and that meant Aaron would be in it, too.

He thought about what Graves had said to him as he called the Chaos-ridden to him and commanded them to arrange themselves in neat little rows. They looked like an army of toy soldiers, grown massive and terrifying.

Call had been trying to avoid this exact moment ever since he’d found out that his soul had once belonged to Constantine Madden. It had been his fear that he would become like the Enemy of Death, that he’d be the cause of pain and fear and death. He’d been trying to make good choices, but though each choice had seemed fine all by itself — well, most of the choices had seemed fine — they’d still led him here.

He could make excuses, but excuses didn’t matter. Graves being such a jerk didn’t matter, because he was right. Even if none of this was Call’s fault, he was still the only one who could fix it.

He just had to figure out how.

“Move out,” Alex said. “Order them.”

“Okay,” Call said to his Chaos-ridden. “Time to march.”

“Yessss,” they groaned, in the language that only Call understood. And they began to move.

Their feet thundered over the ground as they headed toward where the Assembly’s army was still massing at the water’s edge. The air above them crackled with elemental magic. Behind them came Alex’s Chaos-ridden and the mages.

Call had never felt so unprepared for anything in his life. It’s just like the Iron Trial, he told himself. All you have to do is lose.

He was going to make sure his side lost spectacularly.

IT WAS LIKE pictures Call had seen of the last Mage War, the one where Verity Torres had died on the field facing Constantine Madden.

Only now he was Verity, getting ready to die. Aaron had told Call about fearing he would die on the field like Verity had, a Makar sacrificed to the good of the Assembly of Mages. But it was Call who would die like that. Call, who the Assembly hated.

He was Verity and Constantine both, somehow. He thought about them as he marched ahead of the Chaos-ridden, Havoc at his side. He could hear their whispers in their strange dead language. They were asking him for instructions, asking what he wanted.

His flank was approaching the Assembly mages from the west. He could see Alex closing in from the east — Alex, wearing the silver mask of the Enemy of Death. He looked inhuman in it, half ghost and half monster. Call heard Alex shout and saw the Alkahest flash copper in the air as Alex gestured for his Chaos-ridden to attack.

They burst forward around him, and the Assembly traitors — all of whom had been put under Hugo’s command — surged forward, too. Only Aaron didn’t move. He stood where he was, a lone dark figure, the forgotten once-Makar, like a stone in the middle of a river as the Chaos-ridden streamed forward around him.