His head whips toward me. "No."

"It was my notebook, Aster—not Jacin's. It was my fault the Ladies got it—I didn't secure it like you asked me to. If you want to punish someone, punish me. Let him go."

"I don't care." He stands up. "You didn't get caught. That's all they care about."

My hands spread wide. "What kind of justice is that?"

"It's not," he bites, the light of the fireplace throwing his face into dark contrast.

I step forward, voice softening. "Then if it's not just, why won't you fight against it? He—"

He cuts me off. "I fought the vote. But every time he opened his lying mouth, Leavi, he dug his hole deeper."

"Deep enough to die?" I plead.

He closes his eyes as if reigning himself in and sits back down, deflated. I sit across from him. "You don't understand. He tied up his fate with convincing them that I'm untrustworthy. Agreeing not to trust me was agreeing to kill him. The Table won't change its mind."

"Then make your sister change hers. Please, Aster."

He sits up straighter, and for a moment, I think I've finally reached him. "You can't steal messages for me anymore."

"What?" I demand, my mind racing to keep up with the shift.

His eyes bore deep into me, and for a flash, I feel exposed. "You can't bring me stolen messages anymore," he repeats more insistently. "Jacin didn't reveal who you were, but the Ladies will be watching. Their servants will be watching. The pages they bribe will be watching."

"Then save him, and I won't. I'll stay cooped up in the infirmary, quiet and perfect and out of anyone's way. Just don't let an innocent man die, and I'll do whatever you want." Fervent, I reach for his hand.

Holding his hand, holding his gaze, the expression that seemed so cold before now just seems desperate and scared. I know what he's going to say before he does, like that flash of instinctive fear just before falling. In words barely louder than the fire, he says, "I can't, Leavi." His eyes flicker in the flames like a trapped animal's. "That's not how it works, and I can't."

"There's always a way," I whisper, and my voice cracks. "Always, always, always a way." I'm begging, almost more with the universe than him.

His hand slips from mine as he rises, turning and stepping toward the bookshelf. "Don't let them kill you," he whispers back, breath trembling.

My heart sinks like a stone in the river. For the first time, I truly understand, and for the first time, I'm truly scared. He believes—honestly as he believes in magic—that he can't do a single thing to save Jacin. It's not that he won't lift his finger against the boy's fate; it's that if he did, it would be useless. Don't let them kill you. He won't try to save Jacin. I'm sure now, not because he's told me and not because he doesn't care enough. I'm sure because now I know if I were in Jacin's place, he wouldn't even try to save me.

"I won't." We've survived worse things than heartless courtiers.

He just stands there in the lowlight—back to me and somehow looking as easy to blow over as the day I found him half-starved in a cell.

"I won't, Aster. I won't let them catch me. I won't let them kill me." I stand. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You can't die too."

My heart fractures at the brokenness in his words, but I level the tremor from my voice. "We make it to the end of the story. Alright? No one gets to tell us otherwise."

He's silent for a long moment, and I wonder if he's going to speak at all. I wonder what all happened in that room today that I couldn't hear, that I wouldn't understand if I did.

"Alright," he finally replies, but his voice is soft and defeated. Dead.

I can't stand the thought of leaving him, but I don't know how to bring life back to his mind. He stands, staring at that bookshelf, and I stand, staring at him, and the fire crackles and my bracelet sings.

Finally, he says, "Leavi."

"I'm here, Aster."

"I don't want you to think—I'm sorry if I've let you think..." He trails off, and as if our minds are one, I know what he's going to say again and I don't want to hear it. "You know nothing can ever come of this."

Ice pricks my heart, but I nod and force a smile to my lips even though he can't see me. "You told me before. I know."

"I don't mean to deceive you."

"You haven't." My imagination does enough of that itself.

"Thank you for your help. For—" Now he turns toward me, but his head is bent toward the ground. "I owe more than I can express to you." He looks up, the firelight catching the faint sheen of his eyes. "Don't wait by the Mage Room for me. Don't steal messages for me. Don't—just don't let them hurt you."

My lips tighten into a stronger smile, and the muscles around my mouth shake with the effort. "Anything you want." I nod, trying to convince him with my eyes that everything's going to be okay. I don't think he believes me.

His eyes close, whether from relief or regret, I can't tell. When they open again, they're directed to the ground. "You should probably go now," he murmurs.

"Alright," I breathe. "Goodnight, Aster."

"Goodnight, Leavi." My chest tightens. I go, and the door closes softly behind me. Striding down the corridor, I palm the tears out of my eyes. I need to be able to see straight to make it back, but I wonder if I've been able to do that in a long time.

* * *

The long skirts of a proper Morineause dress swirl around my legs with the morning breeze. The air is clear and cold, but for once, I don't mind the chill. It feels like life.

My eyes burn, and I blink it away.

The first-floor courtyard, the same that the old queen had her funeral in, throngs with people. Ladies and servants alike fill the air with an excited murmur like children gathered to hear a ghost story. No one wears mourning red, and I wish I had something so that I could. Instead, I mourn with silence, lips sealed and eyes fixed on the grim contraption in the center of the courtyard.

From a mobile wooden dais rises two poles. Inside a slot carved into each of them fits a thick blade, motionless on blocks at the bottom of the poles. A horizontal stand with leather straps sits just behind the blade, ready for guards to restrain someone against. The stage is empty for now. My hands shake; it won't be for long.

To distract myself, I skim the device's specifications. Poles: twenty feet tall. Blocks: three feet tall, half a foot wide. Hard wood for the poles. Not sure what kind of metal the blade is; Sean would know. Somehow, my eyes can't find any ropes or pulleys to lift it. My brow draws together.

We have guillotines in the Valleys, so though hanging is more common, I had no problem imagining what a Morineause execution would look like. Now, I'm wondering if the translation from Idyne's charm was accurate. If there are no mechanics to lift the blade, then that's not a guillotine. It's two sticks and a knife. A wild, irrational hope swirls through me that this device doesn't work.

The eager crowd attests otherwise.

Doors open, and a rustling goes through the assembly like a flock of birds disturbed. I crane my neck to peer past the heads of servants and the shoulders of Ladies. Two officers in their blue and silver uniforms flank Jacin, marching him toward the center. His head is down, dark hair flopping into his eyes. Chains bind his wrists and ankles, and a gag ties around his mouth. I try to press forward through the crowd so he can see me, but the spectators block me.

He doesn't fight as they lead him onto the dais, push him to his knees, and unbind his hands just to tie them to either pole. I want to scream. Do something! Someone, anyone. Don't just let this happen.

A lanky boy not much older than me in a blue wizard's cloak mounts the dais. His face is jagged rocks, like someone dropped slate and threw it back together sharp and disproportionate. I don't know who he is, and I hate him.

He glances up and over his shoulder. For the first time, I see the royals, viewing from seats in an alcove above. Aster's blank gaze stares straight forward. Beside him, Queen Selenia nods.

The wizard draws a scroll out of his cloak and reads. "For spying on the High Ladies, the benevolent governors of Morineaux's great provinces and advisors of our Lady the Queen, Jacin Jazere has been convicted of treason." His voice is bitter treacle, his words poison, and I wish I could wash both from my ears.

"To this," he continues, "he has admitted, and so the punishment is set. By the law and the will of our Lady Queen, he is to be executed by guillotine." He looks to the officers who led Jacin in, and they nod.

Relieved Jacin will get his final words, I lean in closer. But instead of untying his gag, they force him to lean forward so his chest lies against the stand and his head dangles off the other side of the poles. They yank the leather straps tight around his torso, and he groans. His neck lies just six inches beneath the resting blade.

With his hands tied to the sides and that strap pinning him, Jacin couldn't fight now if he wanted to.

The officers step back, and my heart flutters like a frightened bird's. I want to call his name, but I still don't think he'd see me, and all I can hear is Aster saying, Don't let them kill you too. The wizard looks back at the Queen once more. No one protests, no one charges the stage, no one screams injustice. The Queen simply nods.

Do something! I demand my magic. Don't just let him die—send him anywhere, the other side of the universe, I don't care! Just don't let him die. The silver stays silent inside me.

"Skies be blazed," I curse, angry and grieving. Tears blur my vision, and I strike them with the back of my hand. I'm watching this. He deserves that much from me at least.

"Let it be," the wizard calls to the crowd. Then, quietly, "Et væ." His fingers flick green powder at the blade, and it rises, up, up, up the track. I tremble. Right. What use has Morineaux for mechanics when they have magic? They can kill any way they like.

The blade reaches the top of the poles. There's some fantasy where I rush the dais and fall over his body, where I offer my life for his. But this isn't justice, and that wouldn't save anyone. Don't let them kill you too.

Instead, as the blade hovers in the air, I stay rooted to the ground, just like all these other spectators. Jacin's eyes flick up, taking in the world one last time. My chest shakes with uncried tears. I can't speak. I can't breathe.

His blue eyes never find mine.

With a sharp gesture, the wizard ends the spell. The blade hurtles down, and I turn away.