Crescentia has stopped even pretending to pay attention to Erik, though he’s gesturing wildly as he tells some exaggerated story. Her eyes are locked on mine, sharp, suspicious, and a touch resentful.
I sit up a little straighter and turn away from Søren’s surprised face. “Cress,” I say, infusing my voice with warmth and camaraderie, hoping it’s enough to make her forgive me for monopolizing Søren’s attention. “Come tell the Prinz about the book your father brought you from his voyage to Elcourt. The one about the one-handed knight?”
Crescentia leaves Erik behind without hesitation, hurrying back to the table and retaking her seat on Søren’s other side, Erik retaking his own seat a moment later. Her face flushes with delight and she launches into a description of the folktale and the illustrations that accompanied it. Søren, for his part, listens raptly but I can barely pay attention to a word she’s saying. The small distance between Søren and me no longer feels cramped with things unsaid. Now, it’s full of unspoken promises.
I try not to look at him, not wanting to cause any more tension between Cress and me, but it’s impossible not to. When our eyes catch halfway through lunch, it sends my heart racing.
Because I’m succeeding, I tell myself. I have him where I want him and soon—so soon—I’ll be free. But that’s not it, not entirely. There’s more to Søren than I like to let myself think, and as much of a traitor as it makes me, I like him.
When the time comes, I’ll still kill him. I just might feel a little bit guiltier about it than I thought I would.
BACK IN MY ROOM, I slip the pin from my hair and examine it. The Water Gems glint in the dim candlelight, a dark, inky blue like the deepest part of the ocean. It’s riskier to hold on to it than the other jewelry I took, since Cress knows I have it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that detail slipped through the fairly spacious grates of Crescentia’s mind.
As soon as I think it, guilt pools in my gut. Kalovaxian as she might be, Cress is my only real friend among them. Her behavior today might not have been gracious, but if our friendship were a set of scales, today would be a raindrop against an ocean, and I can’t even blame her for it.
All Cress’s life, her father has pushed her toward the Prinz, filling her head with ideas of herself as a prinzessin and eventually a kaiserin. It’s been a path carved for her since she was still in the cradle, so of course she’s going to fight for it. In a strange way, I respect her for it. The Crescentia I thought I knew wasn’t much of a fighter at all.
I sit down on the edge of my bed and slip the other pieces of jewelry I took from Cress’s box from the sleeve of my dress. Twenty Air Gems make up the chandelier earring, each the size of a freckle, and the Earth Gems in the bracelet are even smaller, flecks of dust, practically, that blend into the gold chain of the bracelet almost seamlessly. Along with the pin, they’re small enough to fit in one hand, but I can feel the slight buzz of power licking at the skin of my palm. For someone who’s been gifted by the gods, they’ll be much more powerful.
“I didn’t realize you were such a fan of jewelry, Theo,” Blaise’s voice comes from the wall.
I look to the small hole and grin. “Actually, they’re presents for you,” I tell him, standing back up and walking toward his wall. I thread the bracelet through the hole.
“Not really my style,” he says before giving a sharp inhale when the power hits him.
“Look closer.”
“How did you…” He trails off.
“Crescentia has quite a collection. I’m hoping she won’t notice a few things missing. Can you use it?” I ask.
He hesitates for a few heartbeats. “I think so,” he says.
“What’s going on?” Artemisia asks.
I cross to her wall. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you two,” I say, slipping the hairpin through her hole and then the earring through Heron’s.
“A bit small, but it’ll do,” Artemisia says. “Strange setting, though, isn’t it?”
“The Kalovaxian courtiers like to wear them as jewelry,” I explain. “Water Gems for beauty, Air Gems for grace, Fire Gems for warmth, Earth Gems for strength.”
“You’re joking,” Heron says, spitting the words out like they’re poisonous. “They use them as jewelry?”
“Very expensive jewelry, as I understand it,” I add. “They sell them for a fortune to countries in the North.”
“Believe me, I hate the Kalovaxians as much as anyone, but I’m not sure I understand the difference,” Artemisia says. “Ampelio wore his gem as a necklace, and so did all the other Guardians.”
“A pendant,” I correct, at the same time as Blaise and Heron.
“It was earned, not bought,” Blaise says. “And it meant something, not just decoration. It was an honor, not a fashion trend.”
“It was a symbol of the gods’ favor,” Heron adds, more force in his voice than I’ve heard from him. “If there was ever any doubt about the Kalovaxians being denied an Afterlife…” He trails off, the gems of the earring clinking lightly as he turns it over in his hands.
Artemisia snorts. “If the gods cared about any of this—or exist at all, for that matter—surely they would have stepped in by now.”
The casual disdain in her words takes me by surprise, and from the stunned silence that follows her words, I know I’m not alone in that.
“You’re a Guardian,” I point out finally. “Surely you believe in the gods.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I believe in surviving,” she says, but there is a sharpness in her voice that keeps me from asking more. “That’s been hard enough.”
“But you were blessed,” Blaise says. “We all were. We were given power.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt blessed,” she admits. “I was given power, I can’t deny that, but I have a hard time imagining it was given by gods. I figured it was something more chemical. Something in my blood—and yours—made us better receptors for the magic in the mines than other people.”
“You believe it was just chance?” Heron asks, bewildered. “We were chosen more or less at random and others weren’t?”
I hear her shift behind her wall. “It’s better than the alternative, in my view,” she says brusquely. “Why would the gods choose to bless me over everyone else in that mine? There were children there who went mine-mad. I can’t believe there are gods who would spare me and kill them, and if they do exist, I want nothing to do with them.” Her voice is all hard edges, but there’s an undercurrent of pain there.
I might not know Artemisia well, but I know if I asked her about it, she’d stab me with that hairpin before I could finish the question.
Through the wall, I can almost feel Blaise’s thoughts running the same path as mine. Throughout the past decade, the idea of the After has been all that’s kept me going, and I don’t have to ask Blaise to know that a part of him yearns for it as well. I’ve imagined my mother there, waiting for me. I’ve dreamt about her arms wrapping around me once again, the smell of flowers and earth still clinging to her, the way it did when she was alive.
It’s one of the things I think of to stave off the temptation to use a Fire Gem. Tempting as that power may be, using a gem without the proper training—without being chosen by the gods—is sacrilege, and sacrilegious souls aren’t allowed into the After. They’re doomed to wander the earth as shades for the rest of eternity.
But I can’t deny that Artemisia’s words have lodged deep in my gut. There’s a measure of truth in them that I can’t deny—why would the gods allow us to suffer like we have for the last decade? Why wouldn’t they have struck the Kalovaxians down as soon as they set foot on Astrean soil? Why didn’t they protect us?
I don’t like that I’m asking these questions. I don’t like that I have no answers. Blaise and Heron must be similarly at a loss, because we lapse into silenc
e.
When it gets to be too much, I clear my throat. “Well, I’m sure you’re glad to know your labor in the mines was for such a pretty cause,” I say, changing the subject. It must be close to teatime now, which means Hoa will be in soon with a tray of tea and snacks for me, since I don’t have any other plans for the afternoon. “All of you turn away, I need to get out of this hideous thing.”
I tug at the dress. It’ll be difficult to get off without assistance, but the neck and sleeves are so tight it’s difficult to breathe, and the heavy velvet itches. Hoa might only be a few more minutes, but I’m not sure I want to wait even that long.
“I wouldn’t change into anything too comfortable,” Blaise says, his voice muffled, hopefully because his face is turned away from me. “I have a feeling the Prinz will be paying you a visit later tonight.”
My hands freeze at the buttons at the base of my neck. “What do you mean?”
“After lunch, he pulled me aside and asked me if there were any other entrances to your room,” Blaise says.
“He pulled you aside?” I ask, alarmed.
“My hood was drawn—he didn’t see my face,” Blaise assures me.
I pause. “Are there other entrances to my room?” I ask, glancing around.
“One,” Blaise says. “Ampelio told me about it. He was planning to use it to rescue you as soon as he could figure out a way to get past the harbor without notice.”
“Oh.” I feel a pang of longing. How different would my life have been if he’d found a way in? “Why would Søren want to sneak into my room?” I ask before I can dwell too long on that thought.
Heron laughs, a sound so deep it practically shakes the walls. “He’s leaving tomorrow for who knows how long, and the two of you barely had a chance to speak at lunch. He had more to say to you, and I doubt he’s the sort to wait weeks or even months to say it.”
“Good,” I say, managing to undo the buttons at my neck. With the collar loose, I should be able to breathe again, but the prospect of seeing Søren tonight makes it just as difficult as the dress had. Somehow I doubt he’ll only want to talk, but the idea of doing anything more ties my stomach in knots. I clear my throat and try to hide my discomfort. “I have more to say to him as well if I’m going to turn him against his father.”
I’m playing the game, I remind myself, and if a small part of me believes the lie, that only makes it more effective. So long as the larger part of me remembers what’s real. I’ll gather information. I’ll turn him against his father. And when the time is right, I’ll slit his throat and start a civil war. The idea makes me queasy, even if it was mine to begin with, but I hope the more I think it, the easier it will become.
“Hopefully, you’ll be doing more than just talking, of course,” Artemisia drawls, each word dripping in condescension. “You’re meant to be making him fall in love with you, and that takes more than just words.”
“I know that,” I say, keeping my voice carefully detached. She’s trying to rile me, and I’m not about to let her see how riled I am. I search through my wardrobe for something more appropriate. Something that looks casual enough, like I’m not expecting company, but still pretty. I settle for a simple chiton of turquoise blue tied at the waist with a wide gold sash. I undo the rest of the buttons on Cress’s dress and let it fall to the floor before pulling the chiton over my head and tying it into place. “You can look now.”
“I suppose Art’s right,” Blaise says, though he sounds uncomfortable. I hear him shifting behind the wall, the tap of his feet on the stone floor. “That is the goal, isn’t it?”
It takes me a moment to realize he’s asking a genuine question, but before I can respond, Heron jumps in.
“Kissing him shouldn’t be too much of a challenge. He’s handsome enough, for a Kalovaxian,” he adds.
I shake my head. “It isn’t that. I’ll do what I have to. It’s just…” I’m embarrassed to say it out loud. “I suppose I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Whatever you’re doing seems to be working just fine,” Blaise answers.
“That’s words, though. That’s running and trusting that he’s going to give chase. I’ve never really thought about what to do when he catches me,” I admit.
Silence follows my confession, broken finally by Artemisia.
“Have you ever kissed a boy before?” she asks.
The question takes me off guard and makes my cheeks heat up.
“No,” I admit. “There hasn’t exactly been a wealth of opportunity. Apart from Crescentia—and now Søren—the Kalovaxians rarely show me any kindness. Certainly no romantic interest.”
The Kaiser’s leering grin surfaces in my mind and I can hear the Kaiserin’s words echoing. I’ve seen him look at you….He isn’t exactly subtle, is he? But whatever that is, it isn’t remotely romantic. It’s something else that congeals in the pit of my stomach like rotten milk. I must look as queasy as I feel, because Heron laughs again.
“Come now, kissing the Prinz won’t be that bad, surely,” he says.
“I don’t know,” Artemisia adds tersely. “I wouldn’t want the first person I kissed to be the son of the man who ruined my country. I’d want to vomit, too.”
“He’s not,” Blaise says, his voice so quiet I don’t understand him at first.
“You can’t really be defending the Kaiser, Blaise,” I say, sinking onto my bed and flopping back to look at the canopied ceiling. “Artemisia’s summation is, if anything, frightfully kind.”
Blaise clears his throat. “No. I’m saying that it won’t be your first kiss.”
It takes a moment for the words to make sense and another for me to understand exactly what he’s talking about. It was so long ago all I really remember is the garden in full bloom, Blaise’s rounder, unscarred face, and curiosity. I prop myself up on my elbows and look in the direction of Blaise’s wall, wishing I could see his face now. It hardly seems fair that he can see mine. Is he blushing? His face used to get bright red when he was angry, but I don’t know if I ever saw him embarrassed.
“That doesn’t count,” I tell him.
“What doesn’t?” Artemisia asks.
Blaise doesn’t answer her, so I do. “When we were younger—five or so—we saw other people kiss, you know, in the gardens and at banquets. Astrea wasn’t nearly so prudish before the Kalovaxians invaded. And…well…I suppose we decided to try it out for ourselves—”
“No, doesn’t count,” Artemisia says before I can finish.
“A kiss is a kiss,” Blaise mutters.
“Spoken like someone who’s never had a real one either,” she says with a snort.
“All right,” Blaise says, and I can almost hear the scowl in his voice. “Enough idle talk. Artemisia, you have your meeting with the Kaiser tonight, and with Theo’s present, it should be easy enough to get through.”
“I could do it in my sleep,” she says. “I’ll just tell him that Theo—I mean Thora—is being a good little girl and not doing anything terribly interesting. Should be over quickly.”
“After that, I need you to sneak down to the cypress grove and meet with your mother—see if she’s made up her mind. You know how she can be. If she’s going to beat the Prinz to Vecturia, she’s going to need to leave tonight at the latest.”
“My mother’s ship is faster than any Kalovaxian vessel,” she says with a sniff.
“And she’ll have farther to go if she’s going to warn all of the islands. I’d rather not take chances. Heron, can you use the Air Gems to make yourself invisible?” he asks.
“Easily,” Heron says.
“Good. Why don’t you explore the castle tonight? See what you can overhear.”
“Finally,” he says with a loud exhale. “No offense, Theo, but this room is too small for me.”
“No offense taken,” I assure him.
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“While you’re out, Artemisia, can you get Theo a dagger? Something thin and light that can be concealed easily?” Blaise continues.
“Of course I can,” she says, sounding almost offended that he had to ask.
“If either of you isn’t back by sunrise…” He trails off. I wait for him to finish. What is he going to do? Send people after them? Go looking himself? He doesn’t seem to know either, because after a moment, he sighs. “Just be back by sunrise.”
“Yes, sir,” Heron says. Artemisia echoes him, a beat later and far more sarcastically.
There’s a shuffling and the sounds of the stone doors sliding open and closed. Soft footsteps echo down the hall in opposite directions. And then it’s only Blaise and me, and I am acutely aware of his presence. I can almost hear his breathing, his heartbeat.
“You don’t have to go through with this,” he says after a moment. “Say the word, Theo, and I’ll take you out of this place. We can sail far away from here, make allies, gather forces, and attack when we know we’re strong enough.”
It’s a tempting offer, but I shake my head.
“Have you heard of Goraki?” I ask. His silence tells me he hasn’t, so I continue. “It’s a small country east of here, smaller than Astrea. Or it was. That’s where the Kalovaxians were before they came to Astrea. They don’t talk about it much; I suppose most of them have all but forgotten its name by now. Crescentia remembers it a bit, though, and she’s told me some things. It’s where she was born—where the Prinz was, too, I’d expect. Cress said they didn’t have any magic, but they were known for the quality of their silks. So the Kalovaxians came and they conquered, just like they did with us. They enslaved the people they didn’t outright kill and made most of them harvest silk to sell around the world until there was nothing left to sell. When they left, they set fire to everything they could and found somewhere new to drive to ruins. They found us.”
“Theo…,” Blaise starts.
“They know what they’re doing, Blaise,” I say, my voice shaking. “They’ve done this to other countries—more countries than I can name. And they’ll do it to us. Goraki lasted ten years. How long do you think we’ll last before the mines run dry and we become worthless to them?”
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