Текст книги "The poison daughter"

Автор книги: Sheila Masterson

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Текущая страница: 45 (всего у книги 48 страниц)

63HENRY

This day has been ten years in the making—the fuel that has carried me through every dark moment since my sister died. I’ve dreamt of the peace I would feel having finally avenged Holly, watching Harrick Carrenwell know he’s lost, and ensuring that no one else will suffer for his ambition.

I should feel relieved that he’s gone—satisfied to see violent justice done. Instead, I feel haunted by the betrayal in my wife’s eyes as she said, “Stars.”

Harlow didn’t use her safe word on our wedding night, or later when I was hunting her and fucking her into the forest floor. She used it when she found out I lied to her.

Of course she did. It was monumentally stupid to think I could hide this forever. I was just hoping⁠—

I scrub a hand down my face in frustration. I was just hoping to trap her at the fort with me so I could contain her when she found out. And how would that make me any less monstrous than her family? How much more manipulative could I be?

The vision of her lips brushing over my scarred chest so tenderly—like she was trying to will away my grief and heal it over with affection—haunts me. My life has been full of people with Divine blessings, but I’d never seen true magic until I watched her kiss a wish into a wound.

I stare up at the statue of Asher. His face looks eerie, lit from below by sunstone, which is probably the point. People in Lunameade have so little respect for the Divine of Endings. Foolish, since his power will be what delivers them from the calculating rule of the Carrenwells.

But that’s not necessary now. Liza and Harrick Carrenwell weren’t brought down by rebels. They were brought down by their own daughter.

My friends move around the courtyard in preparation for the day’s events. Bryce tightens the laces on his boots while Carter checks the blade on his dagger. Naima, who came on this trip in the event that any of our allies were wounded, checks a series of glass vials and wound dressings in her apothecary bag.

The initial plan was to finally reveal the Carrenwells’ corruption. My friends are aware that plan has changed, but not why.

I spent the morning explaining each sibling’s magic and what Harlow told me about the tunnel. We’re as ready as we can be to counteract what they might throw at us, but I still feel so restless.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Bryce asks, tying his copper hair back at the nape of his neck. “You seem out of sorts.”

“I’m fine,” I snap.

Bryce flinches. “Don’t bite my head off. What’s with you? You’re not hungry, are you?”

I glower at him.

“I still don’t understand why the instructions changed at the last minute. Something feels off,” Carter says, looking at the note in his hand.

The new instructions, straight from Rochelli himself, were left in a mailbox for us this morning. For better or worse, today is the day the rebel leader will finally be unmasked.

While we were expecting a few last-minute instructions, we weren’t expecting a deviation from the plan we’ve been refining for months. I did wonder how it might change with the sabotage the Carrenwells set into motion for Rafe. And, of course, considering my wife murdered her parents yesterday.

“I think I know what happened,” I say quietly.

They continue checking their weapons, only partly paying attention.

I rub my hand over the back of my neck. “I can see color.”

All three of them stop and turn to face me.

“Come again,” Carter says, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

I point at him. “Do not smile. I can see color. It’s not a big deal⁠—”

“Not a big deal!” Bryce practically shrieks. “You fell in love with your wife—with our enemy—and that’s not a big deal?”

“Harlow is not our enemy. There’s—fuck!” I scrub my hand down my face. “There is a lot that we didn’t know. About why things are so tense between her and her parents, and it’s not my story to share. That said, she has a very strong reason to be angry at them. They have done some truly unforgivable things to their own children.”

Bryce shakes his head and laughs indignantly. “I can’t believe it. She’s got to you.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“She did. I didn’t think it was possible, but she’s done it,” Bryce says. “Next thing we know, you’ll be saying Harrick doesn’t have to die.”

“Well, Harrick doesn’t have to die because he’s already dead,” I say.

“How?” Carter asks.

“Harlow killed him, along with her mother,” I say.

“Did you see the bodies?” Bryce asks.

I shake my head. “No, but considering my wife is a serial killer who murders abusers, it’s not a stretch to believe that she would take care of the ones in her own life.”

They all quiet. Carter and Bryce exchange a look.

“I saw her afterward,” I say. “She’s not that good of an actress. She just lost it yesterday. Broke down in the garden and then destroyed Harrick’s study with a fire poker.”

Carter steps forward. “If Harrick and Liza are dead, then who’s in charge?”

“Able, I suppose—assuming she hasn’t killed him by now,” I say.

“Weren’t you supposed to be watching her?” Naima asks.

I rub both hands down my face. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I fucked up. She saw the orange in my aura this morning before I was fully awake and she ran off and I don’t know where she went or what to do, and fuck⁠—”

I pace away from them, trying to ease the tension in my chest. I’m so angry at myself, I can barely breathe. The suffocating tightness in my chest slowly abates. I take three deep breaths and finally turn back to my friends.

“I can’t believe you can see color,” Bryce says.

“I knew it,” Naima says, beaming. “I saw you look at that woman and I knew it.” She points at Bryce. “You owe me a bottle of wine.”

Bryce groans and waves a dismissive hand at her. “Unbelievable. When did it happen?”

“Yesterday, during the whole fire-poker-in-the-study situation,” I say.

“That would get you going,” Carter says, rolling his eyes.

I run both hands through my hair, tugging at the ends. “I almost had her—really had her. And I can’t believe I fucked up so monumentally at such a critical moment.”

Back when we arrived in Lunameade, I was so certain this would be easy. I didn’t know then that a woman would rip out the seams of my life and I’d want to thank her for it.

Naima crosses the courtyard and pulls me into a hug. I don’t even bother fighting it.

I tried to be blind to it, but I always felt the discord in Harlow. Her parents wielded her like an assassin’s blade, so she made herself sharper. But beneath that cutting exterior, she is something else entirely.

Her almost-admission of love and the abject panic in her eyes are cemented in my brain.

I didn’t know I would find someone who understood grief like I do, who knows what it is to lose and to make that loss fuel. For ten years, I let my heart rot with anger, and not once did I consider it could be a liability.

There was no accounting for Harlow. I never imagined someone would crawl inside my chest, touch my rawest wound, and fall in love with the monster it made of me.

“So what happens now?” Bryce asks. “If we choose to believe that Liza and Harrick are dead… Where does the power shift?”

“Today is going to be about managing Rafe,” I say.

Bryce crosses his arms. “I thought we agreed he was not our problem.”

“That man killed my sister-in-law and almost killed my wife. I will have blood for blood,” I say. “Beyond that, Harrick’s death creates a vacuum. If we don’t put someone else in that place, Rafe will step in, and it will be much worse.” I pause to let the reality set in for them. “You can all judge me if you want, but things are going to get messy today, and if you don’t have the stomach for it, leave now.”

I tighten the short swords at my hips, giving them a chance to all make eyes at each other.

“I didn’t come this far to not find out who Rochelli is,” Carter says quietly.

Bryce shrugs. “I’m not one to walk away from a fight.”

Naima laughs. “I’ve healed you up enough to know that’s right.” She looks at me. “I’m in, but a word of warning. Make sure that you’re not deciding something for Harlow that robs her of a chance to have his blood for herself. It’s okay to want to protect her, but only if she wants protecting. That’s something you Deathless struggle with, but if you want forgiveness, you need to humble yourself.”

“I hate to break this up, but we have to get out there and take our places,” Carter says.

He ushers us back through the bar and out into the street. We’re only two blocks from the center of town, and the frenetic energy of celebration is everywhere.

The streets are lined with luminary jars, candles burning brightly inside. They’re meant to light the way to truth, and that feels very appropriate for this final day of the festival.

Starred garlands hang between buildings and every house and business is adorned with the sigil of Stellaria—some made of vibrant florals, some heavy iron work, and some rudimentary children’s drawings—but all welcome the Divine of Stars and Darkness into their homes.

I’m overwhelmed by the colors of the world as the crowd is already building up ahead of us. The women wear dresses and bright floral crowns, marigolds and sunflowers interspersed with white Stellarium Blossoms.

Our plan is a smooth transition of power to prevent violence toward those without magic. Given that the original plan was to assassinate Harrick and Liza and temporarily leave Rafe in place, killing him is going to create an even larger power vacuum. I’m not sure who else would try to step into it, but I’m trusting that the part of the plan I don’t know—the part my father assured me would be seamless—will go off without any issues.

Part of our job is simple: ensure that Rafe is held accountable for his alleged sins against Mountain Haven and subdue him until he stands trial. I have no intention of letting him ever see a trial, but no one here needs to know that.

The more complicated assignment is to neutralize any resistance from the Carrenwell siblings or other magical houses. Thanks to Harlow’s admission last night, I know what all of their blessings are.

Then, all that’s left is to throw our support behind Rochelli when he or she shows.

As soon as I step into the central square, I spot Harlow standing off to the side of the Blood Well stage. I wasn’t expecting her, or at least I wasn’t expecting her to be waiting there alone. I suddenly wish I hadn’t killed Gaven. Even though I know she can handle herself, she should never be alone to do it. Maybe if I hadn’t killed him—maybe if I had just let him tell her that he sensed my blessing from Polm, I wouldn’t be in this mess now.

Harlow’s violet eyes lock on mine through the crowd. Maybe it’s something about the Divine blessing we’ve received, or maybe it’s just a general awareness of each other’s bodies and the way they move, but I’ve never felt so connected to someone. She’s wearing another silver shimmering gown beneath a black cloak and a headband that looks like it’s made of silvery stars. I’d almost forgotten that today she has to play the role of Stellaria one last time.

I cut through the bustling crowd to stand beside her. She doesn’t welcome me, but she doesn’t tell me to leave, so that’s something.

I can’t stop myself from looking at her. Harlow’s dark hair is pulled back from her face. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold and her lips are bright red. She shifts, and the collar of her cloak reveals the faint hint of pink stubble burn on her neck.

Possessive pleasure surges through me. I love seeing her skin marked by passion. It’s only spoiled by the reality that last night will be the last time she lets me do it.

I don’t have time to dwell on it. Rafe ambles up on the other side of the stage. It takes a lot of self-control to not immediately launch myself at him and rip out his throat. Just seeing him sends fury burning through my blood.

Bryce and Carter are already waiting for him. Bryce waves his flask around with an exaggerated drunkenness that I worry might be too much. People in the crowd start to notice the mayor and begin whispering and casting angry glances his way.

Bryce pats Rafe on the shoulder, and the mayor laughs. This is Bryce’s gift—putting everyone at ease. He hands the flask to Rafe, and the mayor’s eyebrows shoot up. No doubt Bryce said something about what an expensive, rare whiskey is in there. It’s all about the story. I could tell the moment I stepped into the North Hold sitting room and saw the sheer volume of opulence that Rafe is a man who wants things simply because they are rare and expensive.

Whatever Bryce says must be enough—either that or Rafe has noticed the murmurs of the crowd and is nervous. The mayor knocks back a long swig. He takes a moment, then nods in approval before taking two more generous pulls from the flask. That’s all it will take.

He walks onto the stage with confidence. I hope this is the last time he ever feels sure of himself. He catches sight of Harlow and a slow smile spreads over his face.

Harlow steps closer to me. It’s not until I feel the distinct prickle of familiar magic in the air that I realize he’s taunting her.

Polm’s blessings are complicated. When you’re strong, you can usually compel anyone who fears you, and most people fear you when they realize you have a blessing from the Divine of Malice. Fear is a hook, an entry point to find a way into someone. But what only those who have this blessing know is that you’re most vulnerable to manipulation attacks with the same magic when you’re using Polm’s blessing. In order to understand what will manipulate a person, you, yourself, have to be open.

I throw my magic out to him. Instead of gently coaxing my way in like I would normally have to, I stab the power directly into his chest.

A jolt goes through Rafe’s body as I take hold of him. Most people can’t tell who is manipulating them when they’re hit with Polm’s power, but those of us with this blessing can follow the connective lines of it back to the source. I’m not surprised when Rafe’s panicked gaze meets mine.

I step by Harlow and walk up onto the stage.

The crowd’s murmurs crescendo as I walk toward the mayor.

I raise my voice above the din. “Tell them how you let the Drained in to steal those women, just like you compelled them to come for the people of Mountain Haven. You deserve to pay for your sins.” The first part is a lie, but the second is true. Beyond that, Rafe is a man made of secrets. Divine know what kind of fucked-up skeletons we’d find in his closet.

Rafe struggles valiantly against my hold, but I’m in too deep and I have too much anger behind me to lose my focus.

“Why?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“You will never touch my wife again.” I nod to the crowd and raise my voice. “Admit it.”

“I let the Drained in,” Rafe shouts. “I thought I was doing the right thing by trading a few lives for the many. I did the same thing ten years ago. The Havenwoods were getting too cozy with the Carrenwells and I wanted to solidify my place in the high houses. I was afraid of my lack of extended family. It was just me and my mother left in our house, and I thought I would be the first one to go when Harrick found a more powerful ally.”

I didn’t tell him to say anything this elaborate. The first part might be a lie, but the second part is definitely true.

The crowd shouts loud condemnation. This betrayal seems almost worse to them than the Carrenwells. At least Harrick never pretended to be kind and friendly toward them, only to feed them to the wolves.

“Keep going. Surely that’s not the end of your sins.”

Rafe is resisting so hard, sweat drips from his brow. Either that or the crushed Stellarium Blossoms we put into the whiskey are hitting him.

“I pretended to be magnanimous by visiting those locked up for resisting the blood tithes so I could stir up the dissent and use Rochelli’s rebellion for my own means,” Rafe says breathlessly.

The angry jeering of the crowd grows even louder.

I want him to keep going, but I don’t want a riot. Worse, Harlow looks deathly pale. I wanted Rafe to admit what he’s done, but now I don’t want her to have to hear him say it.

“Take him away!” someone in the crowd shouts.

I shove Rafe toward Carter and Bryce, who are waiting at the far end of the stage. He stumbles over to them, and they tie his hands behind his back.

I lock eyes with Carter. “You have him?”

I can already feel the pressure of my friend’s magic, and I can tell by the way Rafe’s steps are getting more labored that he’s only a few minutes from losing his ability to walk. But you can never be too careful with a Polm-blessed prisoner. That’s why I need to be sure Carter can control him before I release my magic.

“I’ve got him,” Carter says. “We’ll hide him in the secret room at the bar until this is over and we can move him more easily.”

I release my hold on the mayor as they drag him away. I turn back and walk across the stage to join Harlow.

“Are you well?” I ask.

She nods, but she won’t meet my eye. Instead, she takes off her black cloak, hands it to me, and steps up onto the stage. The day is still dark, but the sunstone stage lights hit her shimmering dress as she walks to the center of the platform.

The crowd quiets, looking at her with genuine reverence. I can’t blame them. She looks ethereal and every part the Divine being she’s meant to play.

“I am Stellaria, Divine of the Stars, the bringer of darkness,” Harlow says. Her voice is clear and loud. “I have claimed my love once and I reclaim him now. My Deathless has delivered him back to me. Now I will summon a new dawn.”

Drums play from somewhere at the back of the crowd, then a second beat picks up, and another and another, until the pounding is coming from all eight paths that lead to the Blood Well.

That’s the signal. It’s time.

The drumming grows louder and louder as Harlow lifts her arms, until I can feel it in my chest.

Rafe thought he was going to play this part, but that was just a ruse.

This is the moment. Rochelli is going to reveal himself on stage in front of all of us as Asher, the Divine of Endings. It’s a bit dramatic, but I suppose it’s not a bad representation of the drastic change the city is about to go through.

The crowd is restless, those with rebel ties looking around for any indication of who their new representative might be, and everyone else waiting for the ceremony to end.

Harlow swoops her hands downward, and the sunstones flare around the square, bathing the crowd in light. The people cheer loudly, and Harlow bows and walks down to join me, but as soon as she reaches me, the crowd noise dies.

Footsteps sound on the wooden stairs on the other side of the stage. Rochelli is here.

Whispers pass over the crowd in a wave.

Though I logically know who I’m looking at, it takes me a full minute to comprehend.

Kellan Carrenwell is not on the stage to represent his family. Kellan Carrenwell is Rochelli. He’s the one who has been organizing a rebellion against his own family.

Beside me, Harlow stares at him with the same mix of shock and confusion.

Kellan holds up his hands, and the crowd murmurs die down.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Kellan says. “How could I possibly be Rochelli? Why should you trust me? What if this is all just a grift from the Carrenwells?”

There are whispers of agreement in the crowd.

Kellan nods. “I knew this would be hard to explain. Some of you know what cruelty my parents were capable of. Suffice it to say that those cruelties existed both in and out of our home,” he says solemnly. “I made a hard choice because when I vowed to Divine Vardek to protect the people of this city fifteen years ago, when I became captain of the city guard, I meant all of our people. I’ve watched the disparity grow between the blessed and the rest, and I have seen firsthand the way it’s affected crime inside these city walls.”

Harlow reaches for my hand without looking for me, and even though I know she just needs something to hold onto, it’s the first hint of hope I’ve had since she ran from me.

Kellan shakes his head. “How quickly we’ve forgotten how this community formed. And that selective memory was encouraged by my parents. I knew when I was young. I tried to work around the system, but my parents’ roots were deep. I couldn’t strike until I knew who would support a change when the time came. My parents were vindictive, and if we didn’t succeed on the first try, I knew we wouldn’t get another.”

Bryce and Naima stand on the far side of the crowd. They see me looking and offer nods of encouragement. So far, so good. I’m really hopeful that no one tries to kill my brother-in-law.

The people’s anger and frustration are palpable. I don’t blame them. They were expecting to channel it into the ones who hurt them, but Harrick and Liza are already gone.

I can relate to that disappointment, though knowing they met a violent end has brought me some measure of peace.

“I take responsibility for how long it took to know exactly how to get us here. I’m not blind to how many of you have suffered in that time.” Kellan pauses as shouts of affirmation ring out. “More importantly, I know that it’s easy for someone to stand on this dais and tell you what you want to hear. So let me be honest for a moment and tell you what you don’t want to hear. I beseech you to listen until the end. I’ll hold weekly town hall sessions after this so that you can have time to think of your concerns and discuss them in detail. Are you willing to hear me?”

There’s a brief hesitation before murmurs of agreement break out.

“Okay. Good,” Kellan continues. “Now, this is going to sound scary, but let me start with the Drained. You’ve probably noticed that we’ve had more breaches in the last few months. That’s because the Drained have evolved. Fortunately, thanks to the cooperation of our old friends at Mountain Haven, we have a working theory that our blood tithes that were made in pain and frustration have exacerbated this problem.”

Shocked whispers rush through the crowd, but when Kellan raises his hands, they quiet.

“This is a problem that could have been avoided, but it can be traced directly to my parents’ desire to control information in Lunameade. In their greed for power and control, they cut out parts of our history that left us blind to the purpose of the blood tithes and to the true nature of the Drained. We will right that wrong by bringing back the full story of the evolution of Drained and why the tithes were directly connected to making the problem worse. We will bring back storytellers who can remind us of these tales, and we will never again wipe out uncomfortable parts of our history for the sake of holding on to power.”

The people of Lunameade look stunned.

“Say more,” someone shouts from the rear of the group.

Kellan nods. “There is good news and bad news with that. The good news is that we will be stopping the blood tithes. The bad news is that we don’t know how long it will take for the Drained to settle down enough that we can start hunting them back. But Henry Havenwood and the people at Mountain Haven have brought us a helpful piece of information. Well water kills the Drained just like holy fire. This week, we will start distributing stashes of well water to every house in Lunameade, starting with homes and businesses in the A zones on the outermost rim of the city and working our way in through each section until we reach the city center.”

The crowd erupts into loud cheers. People hug, and the relief on their faces is plain. Kellan waits patiently for them to quiet.

He places his hand over his heart. “Now, I have one more shameful admission. Some of you already know, but most of you don’t. When I became captain of the city guard, I learned that my father was killing any Vardek-blessed children who had holy fire magic. As soon as I found out, I volunteered to take over watching all the blessing ceremonies. I lied to cover the tracks of any children with blessings from Vardek. Because of that, my father became paranoid and more volatile, thinking the Divine had abandoned us because of his sins, and more controlling of our citizens. I’m sorry for that miscalculation on my part.”

Kellan gestures to the crowd like he’s welcoming them into a huddle. “However, the children I saved have learned to wield their power, and in my father’s absence, they have graciously offered to help us maintain the wall.”

On cue, holy fire erupts around the outside of crowd, the Vardek-blessed making themselves known. The people clap, and I swear they look relieved.

Kellan presses a hand to his heart. “It’s on me for not realizing sooner, and I promise I carry the weight of that responsibility every day. It’s part of the reason why I started this revolution. The reason Alistair Carren was blessed with the Blood Well to begin with was to protect the whole of this community, not just those of us with magic.”

The crowd claps in approval. I’m impressed at what a thorough job he’s done of setting up this speech, but I suppose he’s had a lot of time to think about it.

Kellan bows his head to me in deference as he continues. “It’s also time to acknowledge that even if Rafe was responsible for directing the horde that attacked Mountain Haven ten years ago, the burden of protecting the people of Lunameade and the fort fell on my family. We failed the Havenwoods and everyone else at the fort by not seeing Rafe’s treachery, and not realizing how large the horde had become. For that fault, I would like to formally apologize to the Havenwood family and everyone else at Mountain Haven. I cannot imagine their grief, but I admire the way they have rebuilt and redeveloped their community. We will be helping them bolster their forces going forward.” He looks at me. “Henry, I’m sorry for your losses, and we aim to do better going forward.”

I place my fist over my heart and nod my head. “Thank you. You have the full support of Mountain Haven.”

I can feel the eyes of the crowd on me, the people around us shifting and noticing Harlow beside me. I take a step closer to her, feeling protective of my grieving wife.

Kellan clears his throat, and the crowd turns their attention back as he looks toward the other side of the stage, where Libby is standing. “I have two children with my lovely wife, and another on the way. I want them to grow up in a city where they aren’t used for their magic or lack thereof. Where they strive to improve the lives of this community. We know what it takes to survive in isolation, but I’d like to see us thrive.”

The shouts of approval grow even louder, and when I look toward the back of the crowd, I see that it’s grown since the start of his speech. People are pouring in from all sides to hear what he has to say.

“Finally, I know that many of you are wondering where my parents are,” Kellan says. “When the poison is in your own line, you have to cut it out yourself. My parents were a risk to everyone in this community. I don’t think we will ever unravel the entirety of the hurts they’ve caused. Even I’m not immune. They gave my sister Aidia to Rafe Mattingly, knowing he was abusive. They saw the marks on her body—many of you did, too. But they did nothing about it. As long as Rafe was handled, they didn’t care what it cost. They even covered it up when he killed her.”

Gasps go through the crowd, and Kellan looks directly at Harlow. His grief is completely unmasked and so familiar because I have seen that look on my own face so many times over the past ten years.

He straightens and looks out over the crowd. “But last night I ensured that they won’t have the chance to hurt anyone in or out of our house again. Harrick and Liza Carrenwell are dead.”

I expect complete chaos, but there are just hushed whispers and shock. Kellan waits, his body tense and braced for impact. Across the crowd, Carter catches my eye and shrugs, nodding at Kellan like he’s impressed. Without a doubt, my brother-in-law is a better speaker than Harrick ever was, and from the looks of the faces on the crowd, he already has their respect.

It feels too easy, but I think that’s because most of the suffering happened before we returned to Lunameade. These people, the blessed and those without magic, have been struggling here for a long time under the oppressive hands of Harrick and Liza. None of it was easy for them.

I look at Harlow. Her face is inscrutable, but I can feel her pride and grief mixing together as she watches Kellan take responsibility for her violence. His apology to the crowd is just as much an apology to her.

“I’m glad I didn’t kill him last night,” she whispers when she catches me looking.

“Was that a possibility?” I ask.

She shrugs a shoulder. “It was hard to believe he didn’t know what was going on, but I think my parents intentionally left him out of things they knew would make him angry. My father was always very careful with Kellan. He wanted a child blessed by Polm, but it’s a double-edged sword. He provides security, but he can also kill you. Kellan’s magic is strong. If he had publicly resisted them—” She shakes her head, trailing off as her brother begins to speak again.

“I wish it hadn’t come to this, and I would have avoided it if I could think of any other way,” Kellan says. “But my father had become too volatile and unpredictable in his old age. I know this won’t undo the harm they’ve caused, and it hasn’t undone the guilt I feel for not being able to do anything until now, but real change takes time. I wanted everyone to have a chance to see what Lunameade could be if we worked together. But, most of all, I wanted you all to know that I am willing to stand between you and danger, not because I want to be a leader, but because I have been blessed with the power to.”

Kellan waves to a bar on the edge of the center square. Spanning it is a mural of the discovery of the well. Beneath the painting, the rest of the Carrenwell siblings stand with their gatehouse banners raised. Each house has a color, and all are represented except the black banner of North Hold, since Rafe has been detained, and the blue of South Hold, which is held by Kellan’s son, who stands at the edge of the stage.