Gideon doesn’t understand him, but why would she? Back at Canaan House, Palamedes had called the lyctorhood theorem ghastly and obvious, and Ianthe had laughed at him, assuming the Master Warden of the Library was merely too queasy to do what needed to be done. She had misunderstood what he meant then, just as Gideon does now. It isn’t merely that the path to lyctorhood was laid with evil acts; it’s that there was another path entirely. A better one, a purer one. One purposefully hidden away for a myriad.

Given enough time, they could have found it: he, Harrow, Cam, and Gideon. Instead, they had been forced to take desperate measures—Gideon is right about that much. With their backs to the wall, what other choice could they have made?

But with enough time? Oh, the wonders they might have uncovered and the tides they might have turned! Palamedes has to believe that they might still set matters to rights, if only Cam and Harrow can pull him out of his bubble in the River. If only he—and now Gideon—can find a way to escape this place.

He offers Gideon a wry smile. “Granted, the Serena Eterna has its advantages, but don’t get too comfortable. The Captain likes to play deadly games with us. Sometimes he uses monsters, sometimes psychological tests meant to set us against each other. Thus far, the passengers have managed to remain a united front, but our alliances are tenuous at best.”