They emerged onto a pavilion, which, while not as high as the dining hall, offered a clear view of one of the nicest residential neighborhoods in the Uphill, sweeping down the mountainside. Grandbow stood there overseeing a group of master Fulminancers out in the rain beyond the pavilion, grinning as a crowd of people watched.

  “Light them, gentlemen!” he cried, and the neighborhood burst into Fulminant light of all colors, bright, beautiful, and deadly all at once.

  “That bastard,” Kess swore, gripping his arm. “Didn’t he say he would wait?”

  “That’s exactly what I’d like to know,” Rowan said, detaching himself from Kess to confront the grinning Grandbow. He dodged a group of clearly drunk women who were eating tiny sandwiches as they watched the lights.

  He grabbed Cashin’s shoulder, spun him around, and the shorter man cowed immediately. A few of the men he’d been talking to made themselves scarce.

  “I hope you have a very good explanation for this,” Rowan whispered, gesturing towards the neighborhood. “We had a deal.”

  “And deals are so easily broken when not in writing,” Cashin said quietly. He looked out over the glowing neighborhood, and some of his regret faded and was replaced with a sort of hunger. “I need the money. The parlors were bad for business, and while it was prudent of you to warn me about a similar problem, I don’t think it will be an issue going forward.”

  “Cashin, I sent you my data proving that it will. It’s not a matter of if—it’s a matter of when.”

  “I spoke to some of your former colleagues at the university,” Grandbow said, avoiding his eyes. “They all agreed that you can be paranoid to a fault—it’s only natural. It’s easy to fear that which we don’t have access to ourselves. And as a Dud, you…well…”

  “This isn’t about my fear, Cashin,” Rowan snapped, forcing the man to look at him with a little shake of his shoulder. “This is about hard data. I’ve been running the simulations and these will blow.”

  “I’ve seen the explosions,” Cashin replied. He shrugged Rowan’s hand from his shoulder. “Tiny things, barely noticeable. Nothing a bit of glass won’t fix.”

  “That depends entirely on whose Fulminancy powers the lights.”

  “And I’ve done as you requested and found my meekest, most mild Fulminancers. Truly, boy, do you think I want another repeat of those blasted parlors?”

  That gave Rowan pause. He studied the sparkling neighborhood in the rain again as the Fulminancers returned, shaking the water from their hair, grinning at the well-dressed men and women in the pavilion as the group swarmed around them.

  “By all means, continue your work on stabilizing them,” Cashin said. “In the meantime, though, I think they’ll do just fine. I’ve limited them to the outdoors, and I hardly think any of the explosions will be large enough to cause harm. It’s no different from a lantern malfunctioning. Your gold for this new addition should be delivered by the end of the week, if that’s any consolation.”

  Cashin disappeared into a crowd of well-wishers, and Kess materialized by Rowan’s side. He barely had a moment to react before someone much worse emerged from the crowd, a smirk on his face—Rowan’s father.

  “Son,” he said, “join me at the railing, if you will. I’d like to marvel at this genius invention of yours.” He glanced at Kess. “And by all means, bring your woman.”

  Kess exchanged a glance with Rowan, chewing on her lip, but they both followed his father. In Rowan’s experience, it was hard avoiding the man when he wanted something. And his father wouldn’t approach him at all without a good reason.

  The pavilion expanded into a series of covered wooden walkways that twisted away from the main area in a curving pathway, surrounded by trees and shrubbery—perfect for more private conversations. Rowan’s father stopped at the edge of a smaller pavilion, largely sheltered from the main pavilion by a small rock garden nearby.

  Rowan joined him at the railing with Kess, nervous, as his father looked out over the neighborhood, brilliantly lit in the evening.

  “I trust your conversation with Furion went well?” his father asked.

  “Well enough,” Rowan said. “I—“

  “Why don’t you just tell us what you want?” Kess interrupted. She leaned against the railing in a decidedly unladylike pose, her arms crossed, her stance wider than it should be—ready for a fight, Rowan realized. He gave her a look, but she pressed on. “You obviously don’t want anything to do with either of us unless it suits you, so spit it out and we can all move on with our evenings.”

  Rowan’s father glanced at his hands, smiling dangerously, then looked at Kess.

  “Kestril of…Silverhill was it?” he asked. Kess paled visibly. “You’ve made quite the stir Downhill with your fights, haven’t you, Bloodcrawler? Though in recent times I fear you’ve fallen out of favor because of your Fulminancy. Playing for the wrong team, are we?”

  Rowan stepped between the two of them as he saw a tiny snap of Kess’s powers along with the look on her face. He wasn’t sure who he was protecting who from, as the look in his father’s eyes promised violence as well. Panic welled up in his gut. If his father knew of Kess’s identity, what else did he know?

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  “Father, what do you want?”

  “Simply to congratulate you, son,” his father said, turning back towards the city after a sneer at Kess. “What you’ve done is impressive, even for a Dud. Especially give that the entire west wing of our home was blown to bits by these lights of yours not even a week ago.” Rowan felt the blood drain from his face. “Why…we must have gotten a faulty product somehow. I can’t imagine that something so volatile would be released to the public. Imagine the reaction if everyone knew!”

  “Is…is mother alright?” It wasn’t the first question he should have been asking, with everything dangling precariously in his father’s hands, but Rowan couldn’t help it—his mother was nothing like his father; she was kind and patient, if a bit strict. She’d even argued for Rowan’s return before his father had intercepted the letters she’d been sending him.

  “Of course,” his father said, nonplussed. “That’s the servant’s wing now, and you know how I feel about keeping servants.”

  Rowan relaxed a little. By his side, Kess recovered from her shock.

  “You’re going to blackmail us,” she said, hands tightening on the railing.

  “My dear, blackmailing you implies that you have something I want in return. I intend to do nothing of the sort when I can simply oust you both.” He turned, leaning against the railing, relaxed, and regarded Kess and Rowan with something akin to disgust in his gaze. “I have a Seat to claim soon, and I don’t need the two of you mucking about, causing a fuss. How my son has fallen in with a wetboot Bloodcrawler runt, I’ll never know.” A hateful smile crept onto his face as a snap of Fulminancy cracked against the railing—Kess’s, Rowan realized, though she continued to stare at the neighborhood, face pinched.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you?” Rowan’s father asked. “Did you think I wouldn’t have eyes and ears on the Downhill rings, where a girl seems to miraculously survive every Fulminant fighter I send her way?” He shook his head. “Only Fanas herself knows why no one else recognized you—even Aurick couldn’t make the connection.”

  He turned back towards the neighborhood as Rowan floundered for a way to delay his father. There had to be something he could try—otherwise his father would swiftly and easily destroy everything he’d worked so hard to build.

  “Send me the patents in the post,” his father said dismissively. “You won’t find yourself welcome at the next outing, so you might as well keep your little business idea in the family, Rowan. Perhaps your woman can find employment in Furion’s—“

  Something flashed near Rowan’s eyes. Fulminancy. Movement.

  Kess.

  Rowan barely had time to blink before Kess held a crackling fist in front of his father’s face, stopped only by his father’s Fulminancy. The size difference would have been comical if Fulminancy wasn’t such a great equalizer. As it was, Rowan could feel more power brewing in his father. Kess was good, but she wasn’t ready for this fight.

  His father laughed, and a snap of Fulminancy arced towards Kess. Rowan stepped between the two of them, brushing his father lightly with his shoulder, praying to Mariel that it would work. Kess, he snuffed directly.

  Fulminancy sputtered and died, and Rowan braced himself for his father’s reaction. Oddly, he felt just a bit of his father’s wrath through the Fulminancy itself, not unlike when he’d saved Kess. He fished for something to distract his father and save himself at the same time as he held a sincerely put out Kess at arm’s length.

  His father shook out his hand, his face turning red. Some Fulminancy still crackled there, though it was less than before—Rowan had spent most of his focus defusing Kess.

  “I see that hasn’t left you then,” his father said quietly. “You should have focused your attention on me rather than your woman. I could kill the both of you where you stand, even after your little stunt.”

  Rowan stiffened and felt Kess do the same beside him. The laughter of Cashin’s group of well-wishers seemed far away. Instead of attacking, however, his father lowered his hand, looking amused.

  “Still, I think I would rather not resort to such barbaric methods—not yet, anyway. I’ve kept that little aspect of your powers mostly under wraps—people think it was a fluke. I wonder what damage I could cause if they knew it was controllable?”

  “I can promise you a Seat,” Rowan blurted, his mouth moving much faster than his thoughts. “And a Fulminant firstborn.”

  Kess stared at him, and Rowan suddenly had the distinct impression he’d been spending too much time with her. His father barked a laugh.

  “I don’t need your charity, son. Mariel’s Seat will abdicate soon enough and—“

  “She’s alive, father,” Rowan interrupted. “You’ve heard the talk Downhill. You won’t be able to claim the Seat if she’s alive.”

  “That can always be remedied,” his father replied, though there was a hint of doubt in his eyes. Rowan knew his father wouldn’t hesitate to do such a thing, but it would complicate an already delicate political situation. “Besides, what you’re suggesting is impossible—Seat or not, you’re a Dud, son.”

  “Is that something you want to bet on?” Kess asked suddenly, stepping closer. “You know there’s something different about your son, Lord Northmont—it makes you nervous. So nervous, in fact, that you’ve disowned him and done your best to keep him out of Uphill society.” She narrowed her eyes at him and cocked her head, studying his face. “What is it that scares you so much? Do you worry, perhaps, that you don’t understand as much as you think about Fulminancy?”

  “I understand more than you, Bloodcrawler.”

  “Maybe,” Kess replied. “But I certainly wouldn’t want to make an enemy of someone who might be able to control something I can’t understand. I’ve spent a long time being gambled on in rings, Northmont. I can tell you that you should never bet against the unknown—particularly when all you lose is time. You can always bet again another day, but bet against something you don’t understand and you won’t have another chance to bet at all.”

  Kess let her words hang, and Rowan saw the cogs turning in his father’s head as he regarded the woman. Finally, he spoke, irritation in his voice.

  “You have a month, boy. If I don’t see some sign that this isn’t the worst bluff I’ve ever laid eyes on, you and your harlot are finished.”

  He pulled out a locket, checked the time, and simply stormed off towards Cashin’s group again. Rowan watched him go, panic and sick relief battling in his gut as his father walked away, though the locket’s appearance brought up another series of questions Rowan wasn’t ready to face.

  “Thank you,” Rowan said quietly as Kess took his arm again. She shook her head, eyes on the garden, where rain pattered lightly over the rocks.

  “We all have weaknesses, Rowan,” she said, looking at a tiny snap of Fulminancy in her other hand, disappointment in her eyes. “I don’t intend to be yours.”

  “What do you intend to be, then?”

  Kess snuffed her remaining Fulminancy, leaving them in the waning light of day, backlit by Rowan’s creation.

  “A good bet.”

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