COFFEE HAS BEEN SET UP at one of the wrought-iron tables on the public sun pavilion. Striped violet and white silk awnings hang over the large veranda, flapping in the wind, while gold candles lend warmth to each table, aided by the Fire Gems studding the holders. Though winter is fast approaching and the sun is becoming a rarer and rarer sight, the space is still alive with court activity. If anything, the Kaiserin’s death has reanimated the courtiers. They are bursting with fresh gossip now about who the Kaiser will marry next, and each great family has a daughter they are eager to sacrifice for an extra helping of favor.
I count twelve of them now, some younger than me, and each in a dress far too revealing for the weather. Everyone but me, it seems, has already moved on from mourning gray though there are three weeks left of the traditional Kalovaxian mourning period. They all shiver in their silks and sip coffee with shaking hands, surrounded by circles of fussing family members as they wait, just in case the Kaiser decides to make an appearance.
Across from me, Cress studies a book of poems, rarely looking up even though she invited me today. We still haven’t spoken of our conversation in the garden, but I can feel it wedging between us and casting a shadow over every word we speak. I want to bring it up again now, to push her the way I didn’t have the chance to then, but every time I try, the words die in my throat.
“Poor girls,” Cress murmurs, barely looking up from her book of Lyrian poems, quill in hand. “All that work for nothing. My father says the Kaiser already has his bride picked out. He thinks the betrothal will be official by the time my father leaves for Elcourt in four days.”
I freeze, cup to my mouth, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t suppose you heard who?” I ask casually, setting the coffee cup down on the saucer.
She shakes her head with a huff and scribbles something out. “He wouldn’t tell me, as usual. He seems to think I can’t be trusted with his secrets.”
I force a laugh. “Well, he’s right, isn’t he?” I tease.
I expect her to laugh as well, but when she looks up at me, her eyes are somber. “I can keep secrets, Thora.”
The words are innocuous enough, but they feel heavy. What I said in the garden was treason, and she could have used that to secure herself a crown. But she didn’t and that means something, doesn’t it?
“Of course you can,” I tell her quietly. “You’re my heart’s sister, Cress. I’d trust you with my life.”
The vial of poison is warm against my skin.
She nods once and goes back to her poem. “Ch’bur,” she says, twisting the feather of her quill as she thinks. “Do you suppose that’s related to the Oriamic word chabor? Clawed?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Try it out loud.”
She bites her bottom lip for a moment. “In the valley of Gredane—that’s their term for the underworld—my love waits for me, still wrapped in Death’s clawed embrace. No. That can’t be right, can it?”
I try to answer, but all I can see is Cress’s limp, gray body held in a giant bird’s claw.
“Besides, I don’t see what it matters,” she says, dragging me out of my thoughts and scribbling something else in her book. “It isn’t as though the girl—whoever she is—will say no, is it?”
It takes me a moment to realize she isn’t talking about the poem anymore, or alluding to my treason. We’ve circled back to the Kaiser now, and she seems awfully cavalier about it, considering she’s as eligible for the role as any other girl. But it won’t be her and I suppose she knows it. Her father wouldn’t let that happen. He might be the Kaiser’s attack dog, but even he has a line and that line has always been Cress.
“It isn’t as though she can say no,” I point out, earning me a warning look from Cress.
“Don’t pity her too much, Thora,” she says. “I think I could put up with the Kaiser if the crown came with it.”
Kaiserin Anke might disagree with you, I want to say, but I manage to hold myself back. Cress and I have a silent agreement not to mention what we saw that night, and I’m not about to break it. She knows the Kaiser pushed the Kaiserin out that window as well as I do, but neither of us has the courage to say it out loud, as if not speaking the words is enough to quell the danger of what we saw. After all, if the Kaiser murdered his wife because she was an inconvenience, what’s to stop him from doing the same to us?
Still, I want to confide in someone about the things the Kaiserin said before she died—before she was killed. I want to tell someone about my feelings for Søren and how that complicates the plan I hatched with my Shadows. I want to talk about that plan and how fragile it feels sometimes.
But I can hear her voice whisper through my mind. “That’s treason. Stop it, Thora.” And I can’t even bear to think what her reaction would be if she knew about Søren and me.
But I don’t know if I can even be angry at her for her reaction in the garden. I asked her to choose between me and her country—not to mention her father. I should have known what she would choose. I know what I’m choosing, after all.
The poison weighs heavier than ever in my pocket.
“And,” Cress continues without looking up from her poem, “it’ll be a better match than you could have hoped for otherwise.”
I freeze, my cup halfway to my lips. With shaking hands, I place it back in its saucer.
“What did you say?” I ask.
She lifts one shoulder in a blasé shrug. “No one had to tell me the Kaiser’s plans, Thora. It just makes sense. I heard a few whispers about the riots, how there are still countries who refuse to acknowledge the Kaiser’s claim on Astrea. His marriage to you would solve that problem nicely. Also, he had no use for the Kaiserin anymore—she gave him his heir, served her purpose. And I always wondered, I suppose, why he kept you alive.”
She says it all so calmly, her eyes still fixed on her book. But it’s not because she doesn’t care. I can hear it in her voice. It’s because she’s afraid to look at me.
“So when you saw him push her out that window, it must have confirmed your suspicions,” I reply, matching her easy tone, as if we were talking about dinner plans instead of murder.
She flinches at that, but it’s so slight I nearly miss it. After a breath, she finally looks up at me, placing her quill down on the table.
“It’ll be for the best, Thora,” she says firmly. “You’ll be the Kaiserin. You’ll have power.”
“Like Kaiserin Anke had power?” I ask her. “You say I am your heart’s sister and that’s what you want for me? To end up like her?”
The flinch is more pronounced this time and her gray eyes dart around. She exhales.
“Better that than a traitor on the executioner’s block,” she says, her voice low.
The venom in the words feels like a slap and I struggle not to recoil from her. I swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cress,” I say, but my voice shakes and I know it doesn’t fool her. No matter how she tries to pretend otherwise, Cress is no fool.
“Don’t insult me,” she says, leaning back in her chair. She reaches into her pocket and withdraws a folded piece of paper. The seal has been broken, but it once was a drakkon breathing fire. Søren’s sigil. The sight of it hollows my stomach, and a thousand excuses rise to my lips, but I already know there is no excuse for what is in that letter.
“Where did you get that?” I ask instead, as if I can somehow turn this on her, make her the one who betrayed me.
She ignores me, opening the letter slowly. Hurt flickers across her expression as she begins to read.
“ ‘Dear Thora.’ ” Her voice remains flat and emotionless. “ ‘I can’t find the words to express how happy your letter made me. I know that I didn’t say it so plainly in my last letter, though I’m sure you could have surmised as much, but my heart is yours as well.
“ ‘In your letter, you said that you wanted a way for us to be together without having to hide it. I want the same. I want to tell everyone; I want to brag about your letters the way my men brag about the letters their sweethearts send them; I want a world where there is a future for us that is not sneaking through dark tunnels (as enjoyable as that sneaking might be). But I think, more than anything else, I want to live in a better world than the one my father has created. I have hope that one day, when I am kaiser, I can create that world. And now I have hope that when I do, you’ll be at my side.’ ”
She looks back at me as she folds the letter again. “There’s more, of course. Bits about his ship’s activities, how the battle is going—painfully boring, really, though I’d imagine that’s the part you’re interested in.”
I can’t say anything, only watch as she tucks the letter away. It must have come recently. I’d assumed he’d been too busy in battle to write me back, but Cress must have found it under my doormat.
“It isn’t what you think,” I manage finally, though it’s ridiculous how untrue that is.
“I think you lied to me, Thora,” she says softly, but all traces of softness are gone from her expression. She is all hard angles and furious eyes. She looks, for the first time, like her father. “I think you stole my Spiritgems, which means you’re working with others. You wouldn’t have grown this rebellious on your own. Three, I would imagine, given how many of my pieces you took?”
Ice trickles down my spine and my heart thunders. She can’t know about my Shadows, not like this. I cast my eyes around and spot them off to the side of the sun pavilion, watching but too far away to hear anything. They’re still there, which means she hasn’t told anyone about her suspicions yet. I can’t let her.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, leaning forward. “I’m so sorry, Cress, but it isn’t what you think.”
“What I think is that it’s too convenient,” she says, pursing her lips. There’s a dangerous glint in her eyes that reminds me of her father. “These others that you’re working with show up and you get them Spiritgems and at the same time you decide to start romancing the Prinz. You have to know that a match between him and you would never be allowed, and you’re too smart to pretend otherwise. Which means you were aiming for something else.”
She glances back down at the letter in her hands.
“ ‘I misled you before, when I said we were leaving to solve some issues with Dragonsbane in the trade route, but if you’re truly so bored that you want to know what’s happening here, I’ll tell you.’ ”
She breaks off again and looks back up at me. There is no emotion in her eyes, which is just as well. My whole body is numb.
“You don’t care about whatever mission the Kaiser sent him on. I have a hard time believing you wanted to hear about it, but I suppose these people—whoever you’re working with—did, though, and they told you to seduce the Prinz to get as much information as you could for them. Am I wrong?” she asks, tilting her head to one side as she watches me.
Yes, I want to say. But not about what really matters.
She must take my silence for a no because she continues. “I understand it, Thora,” she says, her voice shifting to what I’m used to from her, gentle and kind. It reminds me of the way the Theyn spoke to me after he killed my mother, asking if I was hungry or thirsty while her blood was still wet on his hands. “I meant it when I said that your life is unfair. The way he treats you is unfair. But this isn’t the way to fix it.”
I want to scream that it isn’t about me at all, that the unfairness of my life is nothing compared to the miseries endured by the other Astreans in the city, the other Astreans in the mines, the other Astreans who fled to become third-class citizens in other countries.
I take a breath, force myself to hold her gaze instead of screaming the way I so badly want to. Because I am not her friend and I never have been. I am her pet and she loves me like I’m something less than her, and the realization of that feels like I drank the vial of Encatrio myself. Like I’m turning to ash from the inside out.
When I speak, my voice is soft and level. It is remorseful, despite the resentment coursing through me. “How do I fix it, then?” I ask her.
It’s exactly what she wants to hear. Her smile is genuine, relieved. She reaches across the table to take my hands in hers.
“You do what’s expected of you,” she says, as if it’s simple. To Cress, it is. She’s always done what is expected of her and she’s going to get a crown because of it. But we are not the same. We live in two different worlds, and different things are expected of us. “You give the Kaiser what he wants. You stay alive until I can save you.”
I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. She means well, which makes it so much worse.
“Will you tell the Kaiser?” I ask.
She draws her hands back and clears her throat. “I don’t see why he needs to know. You faltered, it’s to be expected. But no real harm has been done, has it?” she says, as if I broke a piece of china instead of plotted treason.
“No,” I say.
She nods, pressing her lips together thoughtfully. After a second, she gives me a smile, but it’s sharp enough to cut through steel.
“Well, then I suppose I can keep it to myself, given that it stops.” She pauses, taking a sip of her coffee. She is playing a game where she holds all the cards, and she knows it. She’s weighing how much she stands to gain from her win. “You’ll end things with the Prinz when he returns. The Kaiser is going to arrange our betrothal when Søren gets back, and I don’t want him to refuse because of your meddling.”
“Of course,” I say obediently.
“And the others? The ones you gave my gems to?” she says. “They’re the ones who put you up to all of this, I know. You would never have done this on your own. They led you astray, and we’ll have to turn them over to the Kaiser.”
Cress has written her own version of this story, and it’s an easy enough one to play along with. Better, by far, than the truth. She wouldn’t have forgiven me so easily if she knew my feelings for Søren were genuine, or that I acted of my own volition. But if she thinks of me as a pet, trained to do tricks for her amusement, why would she expect anyone else to see me differently?
“They’re gone,” I tell her. It’s getting easier to lie to Cress. This one doesn’t even cause my stomach to clench. I know I need to convince her, though, to keep the others safe, so I continue. “They knew a hopeless cause when they saw one. After I gave them the gems, they left. They said they would barter passage on a ship to Grania. They offered to take me with them, but I…I couldn’t leave.”
Cress’s smile softens into something more natural. “I’m glad you didn’t go,” she says. “I would have missed you.” She picks up her quill again and glances at her book before looking back at me again. She hesitates for a second. “This is what’s best for you, Thora. He’ll kill you otherwise. You know that.”
The words stick in my throat, but I force them out. “I know.”
She reaches across the table to pat my hand before returning to her poem. Her mind is easy once more, the one wrinkle in her life smoothed out. It is simple to her, like the chess games she and her father play. She has me in checkmate, so the game is over and done. She’s won.
But it is not simple. Everything in me feels torn to pieces, and I know there will be no mending me.
I focus on the candle between us, the steady dancing of the flame as it shrinks and grows at the same pace as my quick heartbeat. I watch as it slows and a strange calm spreads over me. I shouldn’t be calm. I should want to rage and scream and slap her across her pretty face.
I should not be calm, but I am. There is one path ahead of me now, and I can see it clearly lit. It is an awful path, one I hate. I will never forgive myself for walking down it. I will not come out the other side the same.
But it is the only path I can take.
Cress glances up and opens her mouth to speak, but then she catches sight of something over my shoulder and shoots to her feet, posture ramrod straight. A second too late, I realize everyone else has stood as well, and I hurry to follow, even as my stomach sinks. With the Kaiserin dead and Søren still at sea, there is only one person whose presence could cause such a reaction.
In the instant before I fall into a curtsy, I see the Kaiser standing by the double-door entrance, dressed in a velvet suit with gold buttons that strain over his round stomach. As if that weren’t bad enough, the Theyn is at his side, which can only mean one thing.
Sure enough, they are coming our way. The Theyn is as stone-faced as ever, but the Kaiser’s eyes are bright with the kind of malicious glee that haunts my nightmares. Already, I am struggling not to shudder under the weight of his gaze.
Soon, I remind myself. Soon I will have nothing to fear from either of them. Soon I will be far away from them both. Soon, hopefully, they will be dead. Soon they will never be able to touch me again. But soon is not now. Now, they can still hurt me. Now, I still have to play the Kaiser’s games.
Again my eyes find the candle, because it’s easier to look there than at them. Though my heartbeat is quickening again, the flickering of the candle still matches it.
“Lady Crescentia, Lady Thora,” the Kaiser says, giving me no choice but to look at him.
His next move is coming, his latest game, but for the first time I am a step ahead of him, and I will use that to my advantage.
In my mind, Thora is a huddled mess of panic and fear. She remembers his hands, she remembers the whip, she remembers his sickening smile when he called her a good girl. But I will not be afraid, because I have a vial of the deadliest poison known to man in my pocket and I can end his life with half of it.
“Your Highness, Theyn,” I say, keeping my voice soft and level. I am a simple girl who thinks only simple things. “It’s so lovely to see you both. Won’t you join us for coffee?” I ask, gesturing to the table. As if I have any say in the matter.
The Kaiser’s gaze flickers to Crescentia.
“Actually, Lady Crescentia, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a few words alone with Lady Thora,” he says, and though the words are polite enough, they are a pointed command. Cress must hear it as well, because she hesitates for a breath and her eyes find mine, a reminder there that I do not need. Her threats from a moment ago are still echoing in my mind.
“Cress,” her father says. He holds an arm out to her, and after a last glance my way, she links her arm through his and lets him lead her away.
The Kaiser takes her seat and I retake mine, trying to calm my racing heartbeat. The candle is still matching it, though a quick glance at the other tables tells me that theirs are calm and solid. Only mine is erratic, and I cannot think about why that is, not now with the Kaiser staring at me like he is. I’m painfully aware of the other courtiers watching and whispering. I push them out of my mind, focusing on the Kaiser, on the pot of coffee between us and the vial in my pocket. If I can manage to kill the Kaiser, Blaise and the others will call it a success even if Cress and the Theyn are still alive. Maybe I can even get out before Cress discovers what I did, before she tells her father everything and they arrest me. But even if I am killed for this, it will be enough. My mother and Ampelio will greet me in the After with pride.
I slide the vial from my pocket and into the long sleeve of my dress so that the corked top is wedged between the skin of my wrist and the cuff. When I slipped it into my pocket this morning, I never imagined I would actually use it. It was a gesture to placate my Shadows, but now I can actually see myself pouring the poison into the Kaiser’s cup when he isn’t paying attention. I see him drinking it. I see him burning alive from the inside out. And I don’t flinch from those thoughts, murderous as they might be. If anyone deserves to die from Encatrio, it’s the Kaiser.
“Coffee, Your Highness?” I ask with a bland smile, lifting the pot. If I just pretend to scratch my wrist, I can uncork the top and slip the poison in without anyone noticing….
But his nose wrinkles. “I never developed a taste for the stuff,” he says, waving a hand dismissively.
Frustration rises in my chest but I force it aside. So close, but I can’t very well shove the poison down his throat.
“Very well,” I say, setting the pot back on the table. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”
Though it nauseates me, I glance up at him through my eyelashes and summon my sweetest smile.
His smile broadens and he leans back in the chair, which creaks under his girth.
“The Theyn and I have been discussing your future, Ash Princess, and I thought you might like a say in it.”
I have to choke back a laugh. He already has my future plotted, and nothing I say could change that. It’s the illusion of a choice, just like the one he gave me when he asked me to kill Ampelio.
“I’m sure you know what is best for me, Your Highness,” I reply. “You have been so kind to me so far. You must know how grateful I am.”
His hand slides across the table toward mine and I force myself not to pull mine back. I let him place his thick, clammy fingers over mine, and I pretend his touch doesn’t revolt me. I pretend I welcome it, even as bile rises in my throat.
“Perhaps you could show me just how grateful you are,” he murmurs, leaning toward me.
I can’t look at him, so I watch his hand instead. His sleeve is touching the base of the candle, only inches away from the flame. If it isn’t my imagination or a coincidence—if I really am controlling the flame without meaning to—what else can I do? How difficult would it be, really, to make a spark jump and catch his sleeve on fire? It would look innocuous enough, but it would make him stop touching me.
I would give anything for him to stop touching me. Anything.
Even your chance at the After? Even your mother? Even the future of your country?
The questions give me pause.
Suddenly a crack slices through the air and the Kaiser is yanked back, falling to the ground in a graceless heap, the chair splintered beneath him, the iron frame snapped cleanly in half. Shocked, I leap to my feet, along with everyone else on the pavilion.
Lying on his back, he reminds me of a turtle flipped over onto its shell. His bloated stomach strains at his shirt as he writhes, struggling to sit up to no avail. His guards rush forward to protect him, but when it becomes clear there was no attack, only the Kaiser’s girth breaking the chair, even they have to struggle to keep straight faces as they help him up to his feet. The courtiers crowded on the pavilion are less able to hide their giggles, which makes the Kaiser’s face grow redder and redder with fury and embarrassment.
I search for my Shadows lurking in the corners, and for Blaise in particular. The Kaiser’s weight alone wasn’t enough to break the wrought-iron chair, not without a touch of Earth magic. But it’s hard to believe Blaise would have done something so reckless on purpose.
There are only two figures standing in a dark corner, one tall and one short. Blaise isn’t there, though I know he was a few seconds ago.
All I can do is hurry around the table to where the Kaiser is being helped up by his guards.
“Your Highness, are you all right?” I ask.
He pushes his guards away and brushes off his clothes before taking a step toward me. His blue eyes—the same color as Søren’s—dart around the pavilion. No one dares laugh out loud, and many avert their gaze, pretending not to have seen the blunder at all. But he must know it’s a lie. He must know that they are all mocking him. He pushes his guards away from him, setting his jaw in a firm line and coming toward me. The smell of sweat and metal is overwhelming.
“We’ll speak again soon, Ash Princess,” he says, reaching his hand up to touch my cheek. Søren did the same thing when we were on his boat, but this is so much different. It is not a touch of affection, it is a claim staked in front of dozens of courtiers, and in an hour’s time, the whole city will know about it.
When he turns to go and finally takes those cold eyes off me, my knees all but buckle and I have to grip the edge of the table for support, though I try to hide it. Now more than ever, everyone is watching me, praying for me to fall so that one of their girls can take my place.
I am a lamb in the lion’s den, and I don’t know that I can survive.