Captain Tolle hadn’t been pleased with the reports of the Circle spreading further across Westergras. She knew the missive she held in her hands contained proof. If only it made any sense.

Redava hadn’t counted on the rain. Annoyingly, the weather remained one element out of her control. Today that meant she tromped down muddy streets with Lord Thain, Lady Linnae, and one other. Redava, eyes their atypical fourth member, Lord Duval, with excitement. The prize was nearly hers.

Gane lounged on his throne, the image of an unconcerned king before his court. An image he’d spent far too many years cultivating to wreck now, even as the encanters stood in their circle around the silvered basin in the room’s center. Grasping another grape, he placed it between his teeth and bit. Cool juices washed over his tongue. Stomach twisting with worry, he wanted to spit it out.

On a lonely mountaintop, an unprecedented meeting unfolded. There stood a king, looking haggard and weary. The “worthy” leader of men, Cadmus stood without his sword nor shield before the Queen Mother of all dragons.

Franson’s victory had been dampened, quite literally, by an insulting deluge. He’d finally done it. He’d finally conquered the Crystalline City. A feat no one had thought viable, but he had done it. Now he and his men sheltered beneath the cliff’s overhang while the rain hid everything.

Tucked between the gables, Thewyn had a perfect view of the crime in the alleyway below. The three men wore rough masks and accosted the drunken reveler. Their knives shook, and their voices were too loud and fast. The robbers were amateurs.

Where had he been? Yanking his gaze forward, Stephan saw the men break before him, revealing Crystal motionless on the slab. Where he had been would not matter. Not to them.

From her patio seat, Tara glowered over the verdant valley. She wished to be anywhere else. Those below would wish they were in her place, but they didn’t contest with what she did. Tara sighed. Not that their plights were easier. The object of her annoyance flashed on her periphery.

Arisa held her sword before her, scowling at Gahwal with fury she could muster. Every moment of the last year led here. Her pain, her sweat, her loss, it all culminated in this moment.