Kell struggled to get to his knees with his arms still pinned behind his back. “What do you want with it?” he growled as the two guards dragged him to his feet.

“To take the throne, of course.”

“You already have a throne,” observed Kell.

“In a dying London. And do you know why it dies? Because of you. Because of this city and its cowardly retreat. It made of us a shield, and now it thrives while we perish. It seems only just that I should take it, as reparation. Retribution.”

“So you would, what?” asked Kell. “Abandon your brother to the decaying corpse of your world so you can enjoy the splendors of this one?”

A cold, dry laugh escaped Rhy’s throat. “Not at all. That would make me a very poor sister. Athos and I will rule together. Side by side.”

Kell’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“We are going to restore balance to the worlds. Reopen the doors. Or rather, tear them down, create one that stays open, so that anyone—everyone—can move between. A merger, if you will, of our two illustrious Londons.”

Kell paled. Even when the doors had been unlocked, they had been doors. And they were kept closed. An open door between the worlds wouldn’t only be dangerous. It would be unstable.

“The stone is not strong enough to do that,” he said, trying to sound sure. But he wasn’t. The stone had made a door for Lila. But making a pinprick in a piece of cloth was very different from tearing the fabric in half.

“Are you certain?” teased Astrid. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps your half of the stone is not enough.”

Kell’s blood went cold. “My half?”

Rhy’s mouth curled into a smile. “Haven’t you noticed that it is broken?”

Kell reeled. “The jagged edge.”

“Athos found it like that, in two pieces. He likes to find treasure, you see. Always has. Growing up, we used to scavenge the rocks along the coast, searching for anything of value. A habit he never lost. His searching merely became a bit more sophisticated. A bit more pointed. Of course, we knew of the Black London purge, of the eradication of artifacts, but he was so sure there must be something—anything—to help save our dying world.”

“And he found it,” said Kell, digging his wrists into the metal cuff. The edges were smooth, not sharp, and dull pain spread up his arm, but the skin refused to break. He stared down at the blood from his lip on Rhy’s floor, but the guards were holding him up, their grip unyielding.

“He scoured,” continued Astrid in Rhy’s tongue. “Found a few useless things secreted away—a notebook, a piece of cloth—and then, lo and behold, he found the stone. Broken in two, yes, but, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, its state has not stopped it from working. It is magic, after all. It may divide, but it does not weaken. The two halves remain connected, even when they are apart. Each half is strong enough on its own, strong enough to change the world. But they want each other, you see. They are drawn together through the wall. If a drop of your blood is enough to make a door, think what two halves of the stone could do.”

It could tear down the wall itself, thought Kell. Tear reality apart.

Rhy’s fingers rapped along the back of a chair. “It was my idea, I confess, giving you the stone, allowing you to carry it across the line.”

Kell grimaced as he twisted his wrists against the iron binding them. “Why not use Holland?” he asked, trying to buy more time. “To smuggle the stone here? He obviously delivered that necklace to Rhy.”

Astrid drew Rhy’s lips into a smile and ran a finger lightly over Kell’s cheek. “I wanted you.” Rhy’s hand continued up and tangled in Kell’s hair as Astrid leaned in, pressed her stolen cheek to Kell’s bloody one, and whispered in his ear, “I told you once, that I would own your life.” Kell wrenched back, and Rhy’s hand fell away.

“Besides,” she said with a sigh. “It made sense. If things went wrong, and Holland was caught, the guilt would lie on our crown, and we would not have another chance. If things went wrong and you were caught, the guilt would lie on your head. I know of your hobbies, Kell. You think the Scorched Bone keeps secrets? Nothing goes unnoticed in my city.” Rhy’s tongue clicked. “A royal servant with a bad habit of smuggling things across borders. Not so hard to believe. And if things went right, and I succeeded in taking this castle, this kingdom, I couldn’t have you out there, unaccounted for, fighting against me. I wanted you here, where you belong. At my feet.”

Dark energy began to crackle in Rhy’s palm, and Kell braced himself, but Astrid couldn’t seem to control it, not with Rhy’s crude skills. The lightning shot to the left, striking the metal post of the prince’s bed.

Kell forced himself to chuckle thinly. “You should have picked a better body,” he said. “My brother has never had a gift for magic.”

Astrid rolled Rhy’s wrist, considering his fingers. “No matter,” she said. “I have an entire family to choose from.”

Kell had an idea. “Why don’t you try on someone a little stronger?” he goaded.

“Like you?” asked Astrid coolly. “Would you like me to take your body for a spin?”

“I’d like to see you try,” said Kell. If he could get her to take off the necklace, to put it on him instead …

“I could,” she whispered. “But possession doesn’t work on Antari,” she added drily. Kell’s heart sank. “I know that, and so do you. Nice try, though.” Kell watched as his brother turned and lifted a knife from a nearby table. “Now, compulsion,” he said—she said—admiring the glinting edge. “That’s another matter.”