She hung up.

He stabbed the redial button, but it just rang and rang and rang.

One hour northwest of Madison, Wisconsin, there was nothing except the sword of the rental car’s headlights slashing at the skeletons of the cold, late-March forest, a sky heavy with stars, and the Senatus.

Griffin fidgeted in the passenger seat as David swerved the car through the hilly, dark countryside. Griffin’s knee bounced and one fingernail scratched consistently at the underside of his thigh. Anxiety drew down the corners of his mouth. His vision was a bullet shooting into the night, all his other senses hyperaware, desperate to pick up something—anything—that might clue him in as to what was about to happen.

Keko had called to say good-bye. Why? Why now? What the hell for? What was she going to do?

“Got your game face on, I see.” From behind the wheel, David threw a wry, obvious glance at Griffin’s twitching leg. “Might want to check that before you walk in there.”

Griffin immediately stilled and sank deeper into the seat, but didn’t respond. He hadn’t told David about the phone call from Keko. He’d stewed about it all last night—not getting a wink of sleep—and the entire travel to the Midwest. He couldn’t’ve called the chief even if he’d wanted to. Griffin’s sole connection to the Senatus was the premier, and he didn’t want to press his luck by asking how to contact the Chimerans directly. He also didn’t want to compromise Keko—whatever it was she’d gotten involved in now—because he had no idea what the chief did or did not know.

And he still had no idea what he would say or ask when he finally came face to face with the head Chimeran.

David glanced into the rearview mirror, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “SUV coming up fast behind us.”

Griffin swiveled in his seat. The headlights of the massive black truck flashed twice. He glimpsed red and blue on the license plate: Illinois. Gwen, driving up to meet them from her home in Chicago.

“This it?” David braked and pointed at a sign for a private campground, the CLOSED FOR THE SEASON tag dangling from a pole.

Griffin double-checked his GPS for the coordinates the Senatus premier had sent him earlier that day. “Looks like it.”

David steered the car off the two-lane paved road and onto a gravel drive. The bones of bare branches stretched for them as they slowly rolled past. The drive seemed to go on forever, slicing deeper and deeper into the forest, until it finally opened up into a small clearing, a shuttered shack at one end, a ring of stones surrounding a giant, unlit bonfire at the other.

They parked next to two other vehicles, their headlights illuminating the premier and Aaron, the chief and Bane. No Aya as far as he could tell. Gwen swung her giant SUV on the opposite end of the line.

The signatures of Secondary magic zinged through Griffin’s mind. David ground fingers into his forehead, indicating he was feeling it, too. “At least we know we’re in the right place,” he said.

Gwen and David were waiting for Griffin to move, but he just sat there, peering out the windshield, memorizing the scene and the players’ placements.

The premier and the older air elemental Aaron huddled on the right side of the fire pit, the white vapor of their breath puffing out, and then dissipating. The premier, dressed in jeans and a bulky plaid flannel coat lined with fleece, still wore the same cowboy hat Griffin remembered from three years earlier. Short and slight, he shifted from foot to foot, stamping in the cold.

To the left stood the two Chimerans. Shirtless, shoeless, muscular, and powerful as all hell.

“Showtime,” Griffin said, and David killed the engine. The headlights died, then Gwen’s quickly followed, throwing the gathering into blackness.

Griffin unfolded himself from the car, heading for Gwen. It had been two months since he’d seen her, and though he wanted to pull her in for a hug, he didn’t.

“Thanks for coming,” he murmured instead.

She kept watchful eyes on the Senatus. “Of course. It evens the playing field for you.”

No one would dare speak their native languages with Gwen present. As a Translator, a rare genetic trait, she was able to pick up any language in an instant. Five years ago, that skill had changed the Ofarian world.

David flanked him on the other side, chuckling. “You ready for some Grade A groveling?”

Griffin didn’t want groveling. At least, not entirely. Maybe two days ago he would have been satisfied with a heartfelt apology from the chief because it would have meant a step in his desired direction. Not anymore. Now he wanted answers about Keko, but it was forming the questions that scared the shit out of him.

So many secrets had come to light since the last time he’d been in the presence of the Chimerans. So many more still buried.

Griffin’s mind whirred with a racket of magic signatures, and an intense churning of political analysis, strategic planning, and general nervousness.

“Chief,” said the premier in his flat Canadian accent, “a little light and heat, if you please.”

The symbolic lighting of the bonfire, calling the Senatus to gather. Griffin approached the ring of stones, his two most faithful Ofarians at his back. This would all be new to them, since last time he’d come here he’d been alone.

In the moonlight, he watched Chief bestow a regal, respectful nod to the premier, then give a curt, authoritative gesture to Bane, pointing at the piled logs. Bane, massive and glowering, stomped forward. It was difficult to look at him; he reminded Griffin of Keko so much—the same tint to their skin, the same dramatic arch of their eyebrows, the mixed Hawaiian heritage enhancing all their best features. Bane drew a Chimeran breath, the expanse of his muscled chest widening even more. He bent forward at the waist as he released his magic, a great and forceful spurt of gold and sunset flame shooting from between his lips. It struck the logs, which instantly caught fire.

Then, slowly and deliberately, Bane lifted his dark eyes and pinned Griffin with a hard stare. One that wouldn’t break under anything less than a tank driving between them. A quick ripple of flame flashed across Bane’s irises, and tendrils of smoke drifted out from between his lips.

“Whoa,” David said at Griffin’s shoulder. “You see that?”

“Yeah,” Griffin muttered.

“Maybe the war isn’t over. Thought they called you back here to bow down and apologize.”

That’s why the premier had, Griffin thought, and maybe the chief, too, but Bane’s warning had something to do with Keko—clearly personal and full of the very answers Griffin wanted. As he stepped into the stone ring, the fire’s heat struck but did not warm him.

The premier craned his neck to take in the other Ofarians, assessing. “Only two. Where’s the third? The one I asked you to bring, the one you found in Colorado.”

At the mention of Colorado, David and Gwen shifted in confusion. Griffin hadn’t told them about the premier’s request because he knew he couldn’t fulfill it.

“I don’t know where he is,” Griffin replied. “He took off over a month ago. He tends to do that.”

The premier gave him a squinty-eyed glare from underneath the brim of his cowboy hat. “He’s Secondary. Elemental. He is spirit to my air, to your water. He should be here.”

Griffin stroked his chin. “Yeah, well, there’s really nothing I can do about that. Sean’s his own man, he’s not Ofarian so I have no control over him, and he’s had a shit life.”

“I think you should find him.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.”

The premier wanted to say a lot more, but he pressed his already thin lips closed.

Time to change the subject. “I want to thank you, Premier, for inviting me back,” Griffin began, adopting a more formal tone. Turning to the chief, carefully avoiding Bane’s continual stare, he added, “And I feel I should apologize, on behalf of my entire race, for what one rogue Ofarian did to your general.”