Scarlett couldn’t look away. It was the man from the beach—she was sure of it. The same sunken, shadowed expression. The same weary slump to his shoulders. The same face, worn not just by age, but by something heavier. And those same tired eyes.

As he mounted the dais, Scarlett’s breath hitched. She dropped her gaze quickly, terrified of meeting his eyes.

He lowered himself onto the throne. From the doorway, the Chancellor returned, another man hurrying at his side. Both climbed the steps, taking their places flanking the seat of power. The newcomer looked out of place—lanky, restless, his wispy brown hair refusing to stay tamed.

It wasn’t until Scarlett studied his clothing that it clicked. The long, formal robes, the embroidered trim. A priest. Or perhaps even a bishop. Someone from the temple.

Everyone’s eyes lifted as the king raised his hand. The guards straightened at once, but the row of children stayed kneeling—so Scarlett did too.

“Your Majesty, shall we—” The young man—son or not, Scarlett couldn’t tell anymore—shifted uneasily, leaning forward.

“Yes.” His Majesty cut him off with a flick of his hand. “Let’s just get this over with.” His voice was low, weighted with disdain.

A chill crawled over Scarlett’s spine. He wasn’t looking at them but through them, his gaze cast somewhere far beyond. If looks could kill, the dark glint in his eyes would have leveled the entire hall. He looked hollow.

“Y-yes, of course.” The young man bent in a stiff bow before gesturing toward the robed figure the Chancellor seemed to loathe. “Averardus, if you would.”

Averardus stepped forward, flashing the Chancellor a smug smile. “As you wish.”

He strode out with a bounce in his step, arms spread wide. “Welcome, children. Congratulations! You’re here because you’re special.” His hands clapped together with a sharp crack. “Each of you carries divine blood. That alone doesn’t matter. What matters is that I found you because of it.” His finger jabbed toward them like a dart.

Scarlett’s stomach twisted. Divine blood? It wasn’t unheard of to have, but never something she’d imagined in herself.

“I was given a sacred task, and I do nothing halfheartedly.” Averardus lifted his arms as if delivering a sermon. Scarlett couldn’t shake the feeling he was performing for an invisible crowd. “Of course, as a diviner, my magic is… not always straightforward.”

From the dais, the Chancellor rolled his eyes.

“So, it led me to all of you—children who share divine blood, the very trait carried by every royal child.”

Gasps rippled through the group beside her.

“Now, now,” Averardus lifted his hands, savoring the stir he’d caused, “divine blood does not make you a royal heir. It merely means the royal family happens to share what you share. And it is that trait that allowed me to narrow my search.” He gestured broadly, as if gathering their panic in his palms.

Scarlett’s eyes flicked toward the throne. The king sat slumped, gaze fixed out the window, as if none of this mattered. But the man beside him—the temple one—was staring at her. His eyes were fixed, sharp, as though she’d grown two heads. The weight of it crawled across her skin.

Averardus cleared his throat, cutting the tension. “Toas, if we could begin?” He cast a glance at the temple man.

“Oh—uh, yes, of course.” The young man—Toas—hurried down the steps. A servant rushed forward with a large chalice, which Toas accepted with both hands. He stared at it for a moment, then glanced back up at Averardus. “Should I… start now, or—?”

Averardus’s smile flickered, his voice tight. “Yes, Toas. That would be ideal.”

Toas shuffled toward the line of children and extended the chalice to the first girl—

“Wait.” Averardus’s hand shot up. “Not there. Start… with her.” He pointed directly at Scarlett.

Her stomach dropped. What? Why me? She stared at him, incredulous. She didn’t even know what they were supposed to be doing.

The air seemed to press in around her. Her eyes darted away, anywhere else, and caught the window. The sun hovered on the horizon, painting the ocean gold, light spilling across the waves like liquid fire. For a breath, she lost herself in it—how the sea seemed to swallow the sun whole. Enchanting. She wondered if she had missed the flash. Harmon swore it lit up the entire room.

“Um—ma’am?” Toas cleared his throat.

Scarlett blinked back to the room. Toas stood before her, chalice in hand.

“Oh—sorry.” She shifted nervously, eyeing the crystal-clear water sloshing inside. Her gaze flicked upward—just in time to catch the king turning his head. Did he recognize her voice from the beach?

Was that a good thing… or very, very bad?

“If you would, please—your hand.” Toas extended his own.

“Alright.” She forced her fingers out, stiff with hesitation.

“All we need is a little blood, miss…” He trailed off as he took her hand.

Scarlett’s muscles tightened despite her efforts to stay loose. “Scarlett,” she offered.

The name hit like a stone in still water. Toas froze, his grip damp and clammy. His breath hitched. He darted a glance over his shoulder, as if to confirm someone else had heard.

Her stomach lurched.

On the throne, the king’s hands clamped the armrests, knuckles blanching white. His body went rigid, and his eyes locked with Toas’s.

What did I do? What did I just say wrong?

Toas turned back to her, shoulders stiff. “Well, Scarlett.” Her name came out strangled, like the word itself burned his tongue. “As I said—just a prick of blood.” He released her hand and motioned for a guard.

Steel caught the light as the guard approached, dagger in hand. Scarlett tensed. Instinct screamed to pull away, but she forced herself still. She turned her head, refusing to look, eyes locking instead on the horizon.

The sun dipped beneath the water’s edge. Gold bled into the waves. She drew in a slow breath, her chest tight, praying she hadn’t missed it—

And then it came. The sun flared green, sharp and dazzling, flooding the room in brilliance. The windows fractured the light, scattering emerald shards across the chamber.

For a heartbeat, she forgot the blade.

The sting came after. Too late, she realized her skin had been cut. A bead of red welled, then dropped into the water—only for another light to blaze across her vision. Not green this time. Golden. Blinding.

The chalice shimmered, its water glowing brighter as her blood kept dripping into it. Scarlett jerked her hand back, heart hammering, wishing she could undo it—stop it—anything. The line of children buzzed with murmurs, heads craning to watch. She’d forgotten how many there were. Too many eyes. All of them on her.

Beside her, Evelyn, Via, and Olive edged away. Olive clutched at Via’s sleeve, trying to pull her back, but Via leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder.

“Miss Scarlett…” Via’s voice trembled, her lips parted in a small smile. “You’re doing it again.”

Scarlett clutched her hand to her chest. The cut stung, sharp and hot. “What?” Her voice cracked. “What am I doing?”

“Your eyes,” Evelyn whispered. Just that, and it was enough to jolt Scarlett halfway back into herself.

Her breath hitched. “What about my eyes?” Her words rose, sharp with panic. Her eyes weren’t supposed to do anything. Why would her eyes be doing something?

Olive yanked Via back again, shooting Scarlett a wary look. “They’re gray.”

Scarlett’s chest squeezed tight. The crowd pressed in on her—some kids craning forward, eyes wide, others shrinking back with nervous murmurs. Even the guards were staring. A few wore the same baffled expression as the children; others gripped their weapons like they weren’t sure if they should be afraid.

Her gaze snagged on Artur. His face was frozen in shock, and that alone made her snap her eyes away.

“Just like in the carriage!” Via chirped, tugging at Scarlett’s dress, bouncing despite Olive’s hand on her arm. “Right before you fainted, your eyes turned gray. You’re not going to faint again, are you?”

Scarlett pressed a hand to her forehead. “N-no.” 

But her skin was clammy, her head light, her stomach tilting sideways. She told herself there was a reason. A normal reason. That everything was fine and nothing was going wrong. She pressed her hand to her chest, eyes falling to the chalice. Its glow had died. The water had dulled into a strange off-white.

When she looked up, the man was staring at her, stunned. “My Gods…” he breathed. His gaze darted between the chalice and her face. “In the name of the spirits…” He turned sharply toward the dais.

Her stomach lurched. The king’s hands clamped down on the throne, fingers still white-knuckled, as if the wood itself might splinter under his grip. His lips had drawn into a hard, bloodless line.

Scarlett’s pulse hammered. What had she done? She hadn’t meant to do anything. But she had. She had—and it had to be wrong.

Her gaze flicked to the Chancellor. His eyes were slightly widened, his mask of arrogance cracked. The sight made her blood run colder.

Even Averardus, who had been all flair and showmanship, looked genuinely startled. The surprise flickered only a moment before his lips stretched into a wide, catlike grin. 

“Well, well. Would you look at that?” He clapped his hands, quick and sharp. “What are you waiting for? Keep it moving!” He swept down the steps, gesturing briskly at Toas.

Toas jolted as if shaken from a trance. “R-right!”

Scarlett watched as he waved a hand over the chalice. The cloudy water cleared instantly, returning to its pristine crystal sheen. Then, with deliberate steps, he moved past her and crouched before the next child.

Evelyn stiffened, scowling as he extended his hand toward her. “Hello there,” Toas said softly, as though coaxing a skittish animal. “My name is Toas. May I see your hand?”

He forced a smile, then gestured briefly toward Scarlett. “Just like with this young woman, we only need a small prick of blood. Nothing more. How does that sound…?” His words lingered expectantly, fishing for her name.

Evelyn said nothing, simply staring at his outstretched hand.

“Her name’s Evelyn,” Via chirped, only to be hushed quickly by Olive.

Toas gave a nervous chuckle, darting a glance back at Averardus, who answered with a dry laugh of his own. “Of course it is. May I see your hand, Miss Evelyn?”

Scarlett braced for her refusal. Instead, Evelyn stepped forward without hesitation and placed her hand in his. She tensed as the dagger neared the girl’s palm. She expected Evelyn to flinch or look away, but the child watched with an almost feline intensity—eyes unblinking, fixed on the blade.

The tip pressed lightly into her skin, and a bead of blood welled up. Toas tilted her hand so the drop slid and fell into the chalice. The water hissed faintly, fizzing, before bursting into the same blinding light that had come from Scarlett’s blood.

Evelyn merely drew her hand back, calm and unshaken, though her gaze lingered on the glowing surface.

Evelyn glanced down at her bleeding hand, then up at Scarlett, as if asking her to explain. Her eyes were a stony gray. Scarlett’s heart twisted—she wished she had an answer, anything that might make this easier to understand.

The room buzzed with uneasy murmurs, but she kept her head down until a faint scrape and shuffle pulled her eyes up. The king was on his feet, still clutching the throne as if to steady himself—or flee. Toas’s gaze flicked his way, a silent signal urging His Majesty back into his seat.

The king obeyed, lowering himself slowly, stiff with tension. His fingers twitched restlessly against the armrests, the mask of authority slipping.

“And you?” Toas’s voice cut through, drawing Scarlett’s attention back. He had turned from Evelyn to crouch before Via and Olive, sweeping his hand over the chalice to clear the water again.

Olive tried to tug his sister back, but Via wriggled free, proudly thrusting her hand out. “I’m Octavia, and he’s Olivander.” She shot her brother a grin despite his frantic shushing. “But you can call me Via, and he likes to go by Olive.”

Toas smiled warmly as he took her hand. “A pleasure to meet you both.”

“Don’t worry, I already know you need some of my blood, and I’m not scared.” Via shut her eyes, nodding with comical solemnity.

Scarlett blinked at her. How could she be so fearless?

“Well, that’s very good news, Miss Via,” Toas said gently, “because we’re already finished.”

Her eyes flew open. She glanced down just as a bead of blood slid from her palm into the chalice. The water fizzed, bursting into that same golden light as Evelyn’s. Scarlett hardly reacted—shock was giving way to a cold, unsettled numbness.

Via lifted her hand, beaming as if she’d just passed something. She looked up at Scarlett for approval, and Scarlett forced a smile back, though the unease sat heavy in her chest, still unsure if whatever was happening was something they should be excited about.

Did it have something to do with their Divine blood? Was it some kind of test? And if it was, had they passed or failed?

Toas had already turned to Olive, sweeping his hand over the chalice before the glow from Via’s blood had even faded. “Hello, Olive. Just like your sister—may I see your hand?”

Olive clutched his hand against his chest, lips pressed tight.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Via said brightly, tugging his hand free.

“I—I’m not scared,” he stammered, though his voice betrayed him.

Scarlett watched his shoulders tense as the blade hovered over his hand. Olive screwed his eyes shut, flinching when the tip pricked his palm. A drop of blood slid into the water, and at once the golden light flared again. Still, Olive refused to open his eyes until Via shook his shoulder, urging him to look.

Scarlett wasn’t even surprised anymore. She was starting to expect they'd get the same result from every child in line. Was it nothing more than a test for divine blood? Averardus had already assured them they all carried it—so was he only confirming? He had said his magic wasn’t straightforward… but then why summon them at all?

She waited for Toas to approach the next child, but instead, he turned back toward the dais. Averardus wore a smug smile, lips parting as if to deliver some grand pronouncement—

But the king rose first. His face was hidden in shadow, unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, yet it carried like a blade drawn from its sheath.

“Out,” he said quietly. “Get the rest of them out.”