Sy had gone nearly as pale as they were. There was something broken in his expression, as if his rage had hit a short circuit of helplessness and fury.

“I do not believe you, Jarrah,” hissed Sy harshly under the rush of wind and the thin, cold press of rain. “This is idiotic ultimatum is all your plotting. If my father wanted me back, this mortal form would already be dead. We would not be having this discussion.”

“Believe what you like,” Jarrah seemed ...