“What happened?” he asks again, his voice softer this time.
“I told you,” I say, forcing a smile. “The Kaiserin is mad.” I push thoughts of the Kaiserin and her warning out of my mind and focus on the positives. “My test worked, though. The Prinz cares for me enough to go against his father, even if he did it in a roundabout way. I can get closer and push him harder, I know I can. If we can get him to turn against his father publicly, it will cause a rift in the court.”
As I say the words, a plan begins to form in my mind. Blaise must see where it’s going, because a grim smile stretches across his face.
“A rift,” he repeats slowly, and I can tell that his thoughts are mirroring my own. “A rift like that would become uncrossable if…say…the Prinz were to be killed under mysterious circumstances after confronting his father.”
“Or not so mysterious,” I add. “Certain clues might point to a member of the Kaiser’s personal guard.”
Already I’m thinking of just what those clues might be: a scrap of an undershirt sleeve with the Kaiser’s sigil on it, ripped off in the scuffle, one of the leather ties the Kalovaxian men use to hold their hair back, a Spiritgem that fell out of a scabbard. Of course, to make it convincing, someone would need to pick one of the Kaiser’s guards to frame. His undershirt would need to be ripped, his leather hair tie stolen, a gem pried from his scabbard. Heron could turn invisible and do it easily, so could Art if she were wearing a different face, but being able to control their gifts for ten to twenty minutes won’t be enough this time. They would need gems.
“How would the court react to that?” Blaise asks, half to himself and half to me.
I purse my lips and turn the question over in my mind. “The Kalovaxians value strength, but the Kaiser has grown lazy since Astrea was conquered. He just stays in the palace letting others fight for him. Letting Søren fight for him. The Kalovaxian people love the Prinz—he’s exactly what they think a ruler should be. If they thought the Kaiser killed him, at least half the court would revolt. It’s happened before in Kalovaxian history—a weak ruler being overthrown, a new family fighting their way to the crown. It always starts with a civil war, those who are content with the current regime versus those who are not. We can flee the country after killing the Prinz, and while they pick each other off, we gather enough allies to come back and destroy them all.”
The thought of it causes a smile to rise to my lips.
“Could you do it?” Heron asks from behind the wall.
“Do what?” I ask.
Heron clears his throat but doesn’t answer.
“I think what Heron’s asking is…,” Blaise starts, but he trails off. He opens his mouth and closes it again, dropping his gaze away from me.
“They want to know if you can actually kill someone,” Artemisia says. “But I don’t think they wanted to bring it up, since the only time you’ve taken a life, it was Ampelio’s. I doubt the Prinz will lie at your feet and let you do it, and you can hardly overpower him, can you?”
She has a point, though I’m loath to admit it. “It’s just the next step in a plan we already had in place,” I say instead. “If I could overpower him, do you think the rest of the plan could work?”
The three of them are quiet for a moment. Next to me, Blaise’s eyes are fixed on the wall in front of him, seeing nothing. I can practically see him thinking, running through the scenario in every direction.
“Yes,” he says after a moment.
“It actually could work,” Artemisia admits, sounding somewhat impressed.
“It will work,” I say, my confidence growing. I feel buoyant suddenly, like my feet aren’t quite touching the ground. We can do this—take our country back. Admittedly, there is only a slim chance of it working, but it’s significantly more than it was before, now that we have a plan. It’s a glimmer of hope in the pitch dark.
I don’t let myself think too long about what, exactly, I just offered to do. Søren is my enemy, even if he’s only ever showed me kindness. And now I know what it means to take a life, that it’s something more than a blade and blood and a heart gone still. Now I know that it takes something from you in return.
There is something else nagging at me, too. I clear my throat. “On a separate note, I’ve been thinking about Vecturia a bit more—”
Blaise groans. “Theo, we agreed—”
“I never agreed,” I interrupt, squaring my shoulders. “I’m not content to brush the death and enslavement of thousands of people off my hands like they’re nothing but flecks of dirt.”
“They did that to us when the Kalovaxians came to our shores,” Heron says.
“And I’m sure they’ll regret that decision when Søren and his men attack. But the fact remains that the more the Kaiser digs his roots into the area, the more difficult it’s going to be to remove him. When war does come, we’ll already be fighting a difficult battle, but if they have a stronghold in Vecturia as well, they’ll be able to attack from both sides and crush us easily. It won’t be a fight; it’ll be a massacre.”
I wait for protests, but all three are silent. Blaise’s eyes dart around the room, his mouth pursed. I don’t sound like my mother this time, I realize. I sound more like the Kaiser or the Theyn dictating battle strategies, and I’m sure my Shadows notice that difference as well. Blaise is grasping for an argument, so I push forward before he can find one.
“And we are leaving here eventually. When we do, we’re going to need to gather more forces, make stronger alliances. I know the Vecturians aren’t enough, but they’re a start. They’re more than we have now, and they can do more than we can from here. I’m not suggesting that we send what few people we have into an impossible battle, but Artemisia said that Vecturia’s weakness is in the distance between their islands, right? If we can get a warning there and give them the chance to unite, it would become a more difficult fight than Søren is anticipating.”
Blaise nods slowly. “He might even turn back once he realizes he’s lost the element of surprise.”
“Is there a way to send warning?” I ask.
Blaise’s brow furrows and he glances at Artemisia’s wall. “Will your mother do it?” He sounds wary.
She hesitates. “It might take some convincing,” she says. “And I’m still not sure it’s the best idea.”
“If you have any better ones, I’m open to considering them,” I tell her.
Silence. Then, “I’ll try.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling a few inches taller. The threat of the Kaiser recedes a bit in my mind. I can do this. I can act like a queen.
It takes a few seconds for the implications of what they were talking about to hit me. “Wait. What does your mother have to do with anything?” I ask her.
Artemisia laughs. “She is the most feared pirate on the Calodean Sea. You might know her better as Dragonsbane.”
For a moment, I can only stare at the wall she’s hidden behind. The rebel Astrean pirate is notorious, but I’ve always heard Dragonsbane referred to as a he. It never crossed my mind that it could be a woman. A mother.
A surge of hope bubbles up in my chest and I can’t help but laugh. If Dragonsbane is on our side, our chances just greatly improved. But when I turn back to Blaise, his jaw is set and he looks anything but relieved. I remember what he said about Dragonsbane in the cellar. She is not on our side, not really, even if our interests sometimes align.
But Astrea must be our common interest, right? This is her country, too, and she’s done so much to help it. We have to be on the same side. After all, what other side is there for us?
Before I can ask Blaise more about it, he stands up and holds out a hand to me.
“We can’t dawdle all day,” he says, pulling me to my feet so that I’m facing him. This close, I can feel the warmth rolling from his skin. Even though he hasn’t been
outside in days, he smells like the earth after a rainstorm. He cups my cheeks gently, running his thumbs under my eyes to dry the leftover tears there. It’s a surprisingly intimate gesture, from Blaise of all people, and I hear Heron cough awkwardly to remind us of his presence. Blaise clears his throat and steps back. “You have a prinz to charm,” he reminds me before hesitating. “If you can hide a weapon where no one will find it, I can get you something. A dagger, maybe?”
Relief floods me even though I doubt I would know what to do with a knife if the moment came. Still, having it will make me feel better.
“A dagger would be perfect,” I say as a gust of wind blows through the window and raises goose bumps on my skin, bringing an idea with it. “The season is turning. I’ll need my cloak soon.”
His brow furrows. “I suppose so,” he says.
I smile. “How are your sewing skills, Blaise?”
“Abysmal,” he says, though his eyes lighten. “But Heron’s fingers are surprisingly nimble for such a big fellow. Part giant, isn’t that right, Heron?”
“I’m big enough to crush you,” Heron shoots back from behind his wall, but there’s only good humor in his voice.
“Could you sew a dagger into the hem of my cloak?” I ask him.
“Easily,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say to both of them before smoothing my hands over my skirt. “How do I look?” I ask Blaise.
“Lower that neckline half an inch and he doesn’t stand a chance,” he tells me with a smirk.
I give him an annoyed shove toward the door, but when he’s gone, I do it anyway.
* * *
—
Before seeking out Søren, I stop by Crescentia’s rooms. I rarely visit her quarters for fear of having to see her father, but the Theyn is still inspecting the Water Mine, making sure everyone there remembers their place. He’ll bring back a few new gems for Cress, as he usually does. It’s no accident that her collection of Spiritgems rivals even that of the Kaiserin.
Which is why I’m hoping she won’t miss a few now. If our plan has even a sliver of a chance of succeeding, my Shadows need gems.
Elpis answers the door and gives me a shy smile before leading me through the gilded maze of rooms that make up the Theyn’s suite. These were Blaise’s family’s rooms once, but I doubt even he would recognize them now. The entire suite is a living crypt of all the countries the Theyn has brought to ruins.
Most of it comes from Astrea—the burnished brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling that once hung in my mother’s study, the gold-framed mirror crowned with the face of Belsimia, the goddess of love and beauty, that watched over the city’s bathhouse—but there are other pieces that Crescentia had to explain to me. Candlesticks from Yoxi, painted bowls from Kota, a crystal vase from Goraki. The Theyn isn’t a sentimental sort by anyone’s definition, but he does like his souvenirs.
I once asked Cress how long it’s been since the court was in Kalovaxia, because no one ever talks about it, but she didn’t know. She said it must have been a few centuries and that, effectively, there was no Kalovaxia anymore. The winters had grown colder and longer until there were no other seasons, until nothing could grow there, until the livestock perished, until the Kalovaxians loaded up their boats and left for a better country. It didn’t matter that it belonged to someone else; they took it by force and they reaped everything it had to offer—slaves, food, resources—and when they’d driven the country into the ground and there was nothing left, they found somewhere new and started the whole process again. And again, and again, and again.
Astrea was the first country they found with magic. Maybe that’s why they’ve been here the longest, though I’d imagine even this country is starting to run low, both on gems and the people to mine them.
Elpis leads me down the hall to Crescentia’s room, neither of us daring to speak. In the small space of the hallway, I feel confident enough of our privacy to reach out and give her arm a reassuring squeeze.
“You did well,” I whisper.
Even in the dim lighting, I can see her face flush with pleasure.
“Is there anything else I can do, my lady?” she replies.
Elpis is the perfect asset—a girl no one would look twice at stationed in the house of the Theyn. My mind spins with the sort of things she could overhear, the things she could do. But the Theyn did not get to be the Theyn by being a fool.
Blaise’s voice echoes in my mind. “She’s your responsibility, Theo.”
“Nothing just now,” I tell her.
Disappointment flickers in her eyes, but she nods her head and knocks timidly on the door.
“Lady Thora here to see you, my lady,” she says, her voice barely loud enough to be heard on the other side of the thick wooden door.
“Thora?” I can hear the excitement in Crescentia’s voice from here. “Come in!” she calls.
I give Elpis a smile of thanks before pushing the door open and slipping inside.
Crescentia’s room is large enough to house an entire family, and the space is dominated by a canopy bed hung in diaphanous white silk. The coverlet, I know, is embroidered with golden thread, but just now it’s littered with so many pastel dresses that it’s impossible to tell. She’s sitting at her vanity, pots of cosmetics open and brushes scattered haphazardly. Her painted jewelry box—another artifact from some fallen land, I’m sure—is open and its contents are in disarray.
Cress herself is wild-eyed and flushed, though as far as I can tell she hasn’t left her room yet today. There’s a tray of half-eaten breakfast abandoned on her bed, and she’s still wearing her nightgown. Her blond hair is down in a mess of frizzy waves that haven’t yet been tamed and braided by her maids.
“Busy morning?” I ask, moving a discarded dress from a chaise lounge by her window and sitting down.
A grin breaks over her face. “I finally heard from the Prinz! He sent a letter this morning inviting me…well, inviting us to have lunch with him. He’s smart to avoid the impropriety of us being seen alone together, I suppose. Isn’t it exciting?”
“It is,” I say, trying to match her enthusiasm. Søren, it seems, isn’t to be dissuaded, and I have to admit, this is a smart move on his part. Having Crescentia there as a buffer might not stop other courtiers from gossiping, but most of them won’t be gossiping about me at least. Still, it seems cruel to use Cress as a shield, especially when she’s imagining herself half in love with Søren already. But with my new plan buzzing loudly through my mind, I can’t spare Cress’s feelings more than a cursory thought. After all, she’s more enamored with the idea of him than anything else, and if the plan goes right, he’ll be dead before she realizes that. Cress will get to feel like one of the tragic heroines she likes to read about, and I think she’ll enjoy that almost as much as a crown.
“I suppose you’re trying to decide what you should wear?” I ask.
“I have nothing,” she tells me with a dramatic sigh, gesturing widely to the rest of her room, where dozens of dresses lie in an array of colors and styles. Some of them are loosely draped Astrean gowns with delicate embroidery and jewel-encrusted fibulae. Others are traditionally Kalovaxian, with tailored waists and bell-shaped skirts that require steel cages and layers of petticoats, done in a heavier fabric like velvet or wool. There are so many dresses that counting them feels like trying to count all the stars in the sky, though I’m sure I’ve only ever seen her wear a fraction of them.
I pick up the dress I pushed aside and hold it up. It’s a lavender gown I’ve never seen her wear before, cut simply with a swath of sheer fabric that sweeps across the velvet bodice and drapes over one shoulder. The neckline and hem are covered with hundreds of tiny sapphires arranged to look like flowers.
“What about this?” I ask.
“Hideous,” she proclaims without really looking at it.
&n
bsp; “I think the color would look lovely on you,” I insist. “At least try it.”
“There’s no point. It’s all hideous,” she says. “What does the Prinz like? Do you know? What’s his favorite color?”
“I don’t know anything more about him than you do,” I tell her with a laugh, hoping the lie isn’t obvious. I might not know Søren’s favorite color or what kind of women’s fashions he likes, but I know he’s kind and that he must be closer to his mother than his father or he wouldn’t have gone to the Kaiserin to break off my engagement. I know that even though he’s a great warrior, he doesn’t enjoy the act of killing, the way most Kalovaxians do. He remembered the Astreans’ names, after all, nine years after his father forced him to kill them.
I push those thoughts aside. I told Art and the others that I would be able to kill him when the time came, and I can’t do that if I see him as a nice person.
“You sat with him at the banquet, though,” Cress points out, a delicately sharpened edge coming into her voice. “And you seemed close at the harbor—you even called him by his given name.”
She’s jealous, I realize, and the idea seems almost funny to me. It isn’t funny, of course. I’m supposed to be making Søren fall for me, and it seems like he’s certainly taking more of an interest in me than Cress, but the jealousy still feels strange coming from her. This is the girl who gave me her hand-me-down dresses, who snuck me pieces of bread when the Kaiser withheld my dinner, who leveraged her own status to make sure other court girls didn’t insult me to my face. I’ve been sheltered in her pity for most of my life; the idea of her being jealous of me feels absurd.
But she is, and I’ve given her plenty of reason to be. Guilt lodges deep in my stomach. It’s not enough for me to change my mind, but it’s there all the same.
I open my mouth but quickly close it again, unsure of what to say, exactly, to convince her that I’m no threat. Cress is always so good at telling when I’m lying, though.
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