“No— I—I don’t know, Highest,” she gasped, the words barely more than a murmur. “Everything started shaking, and then the Curse, it, it, I don’t know, but…” She started to sob, her body heaving.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Yes, Highest,” she said as he helped her sit up. She leaned back against the fountain, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“All right. Then—then sit here until you feel better. But I need to know, where’s Jae? Do you know where she is?”

“She’s—she— Lord Rannith summoned her,” the girl said.

He nodded and stood, headed back inside. The whole hallway was strewn with debris, bricks that had fallen or been knocked out of place on the floor. The art on the walls, mosaics and woven hangings, were all askew or had fallen entirely, and he sneezed as the dust and sand hit him.

When he reached the study, Desinn was helping Lady Shirrad to her feet. “What happened, Highest?” she asked.

“I need you to take me to Rannith’s room.”

“Rannith? Why?” she asked, then backtracked. “Of course, Highest. I just don’t understand….”

He didn’t bother to clarify, just followed her through the wrecked, messy hallways toward the wing where the Avowed had rooms. Desinn followed them, stumbling. There weren’t many footprints in the dust yet, though around them, people slowly appeared in the halls, helping each other.

“We’ll need someone to check every room for people,” Elan said, glancing back at Desinn. “To make sure no one is hurt too badly to move. Desinn, take care of it.”

“Highest—”

“Or find someone else to do it,” Elan said, turning back toward Lady Shirrad. He’d been debating whether he should tell Shirrad and Desinn about Jae before, but now he didn’t dare until he knew she was under control. She shouldn’t have been able to do any of this, not after he’d ordered her not to use magic without permission, unless for some reason, magic didn’t always obey the rules of the Curse. If that was the case, then things might get bad again, and he didn’t want Desinn or Shirrad to make them even worse.

The closer they got to the sleeping quarters where Rannith had his room, the worse the destruction got. The hall was nearly blocked off with debris at one point, and Elan had to climb across and then help Shirrad follow.

Finally they reached the right room. Shirrad hesitated. “I don’t understand why you need Lord Rannith, but…”

“Wait out here,” he said, and tried to open the door. It didn’t move, blocked by more destruction. He leaned his shoulder against it and shoved, heard a pile of rubble give way. The door opened slowly, and he pushed his way in as soon as the gap was wide enough.

A patch of sky showed overhead, where half the ceiling had fallen in. Nearly everything in the room had crashed over, and the sleeping mat had slid away from the wall. Jae lay on it, unmoving. He rushed toward her, terrified for one second that she was dead, that the magic had somehow been released by her death, but no. Her chest was rising and falling slowly. He shook her shoulder, but she didn’t stir, didn’t move at all. It wasn’t until he gave up and dropped her arm that he realized she was naked.

She was naked on the sleeping mat—but where was Rannith?

Elan scanned the room again. The whole house was a wreck, but the rubble was much worse in here, piled everywhere except on the sleeping mat itself. If Jae had done this, she must have protected herself, but anyone else in the room…

Blood seeped from under the wreckage of the ceiling, and Elan’s stomach churned. He gingerly stepped closer, pausing between each movement, afraid another piece of roof would crash down on him. The ceiling held, and he crouched in the midst of the bricks and began pulling pieces out of the pile.

He found more blood, then a hand. He moved a few more bricks to uncover the arm, found the shoulder, and then—

Rannith’s whole body had been crushed, and his skull was smashed open. Elan turned away from it, heaving, and lost his dinner on the debris he’d piled next to him.

“Lord Elan? Are you well?” Lady Shirrad called from the hall.

He wiped his mouth with his hand, pulled himself up, and took a breath. He didn’t want to let anyone else in until he knew for sure what had happened.

“I’m fine,” he assured Shirrad, though his voice came out thin and shaky. He made his way back to the door and stood in the entrance, careful to block the view in case Lady Shirrad leaned in. “Something happened in here. I need…” He glanced back at the sleeping mat, then decided. “There’s a Closest boy—the groundskeeper’s brother.”

“Tal?” Shirrad asked, surprised. “What—”

“Find him and bring him here. Quickly,” Elan ordered.

Lady Shirrad hesitated, mouth opening as if she wanted to object. But she snapped it closed and nodded, turned away, and hurried down the hall. Elan turned back to Jae.

She didn’t look injured, and the bedroll was still mostly made, though the thick blankets covering the mat had been pulled loose. Jae lay on top of them. He glanced around until he saw her clothing among the debris on the floor.

Jae was naked, and Rannith was dead.

He shuddered, carefully pulled the top blanket out from under Jae, and laid it over her. He sat down, stared at the rubble, and tried to think. He didn’t know how she’d used magic despite his order, but what had happened was easy enough to guess.

She’d have to be held responsible for all of this, but that didn’t feel quite right somehow. Being ordered onto someone’s sleeping mat wasn’t the same as being ordered to work in the kitchen or a field. Elan couldn’t imagine what it was like for the Closest, forced to obey absolutely every order; he’d never even thought about it. If it had been him lying there, if he hadn’t wanted Rannith…

Still, she’d killed him, and Elan didn’t even know yet if anyone else had been hurt. That couldn’t be allowed; he’d have to use the Curse to do something about it. Except that the Curse shouldn’t have let Jae do this in the first place. It shouldn’t have let her disobey him, let alone kill anyone, and if she could do that, then maybe she could do anything. If that was true, then no matter what Elan ordered, they’d all be at her mercy.

He glanced back at the rubble, at Rannith’s remains, unsure if Jae even possessed mercy. Maybe she hadn’t intended to kill Rannith, but then again, maybe she had. Elan had never thought about that, either, but the Closest probably weren’t happy about their lot. He’d never heard of them complaining, but how could they? Even if they wanted to object, the Closest could only ever bite their tongues and do as they were told. He’d never even met one of them until coming to Aredann.