I thought going to see Justine again, clearing the air, would make things easier. I was wrong.

As I walk down the corridor away from her room, I fight the urge to turn and slam my fist right through the wall. I’m so angry, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m helpless.

I argued with my father all morning, but despite my protests, he never budged in his decision. For a time, at least, I thought I had Andrew on my side, but then he, too, agreed with my father that this was the wisest decision.

“As much as I hate to say it,” my brother said, “Father might be right. We made our best efforts for peace with Rosvalia, but that family has only betrayed our trust again and again. Every single one of them. Justine lied to us, too. Lied to you. She didn’t enter into your marriage in good faith, as you did, and even if her mind has changed, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a liability now. Think about it—even if we manage to foil whatever Maximilian has planned, if they have you, they still have a bargaining chip. If you return to Rosvalia, even willingly, you’ll be more or less a hostage. As long as you’re married to Justine, they have leverage over you. And us.”

“By that logic, we’d have leverage over them, too,” I said. “And who says Justine and I have to return to Rosvalia? What if we stayed here?”

“You think Maximilian would allow such a thing?” my father cut in. “No, he’s been using you. He’s been using all of us. And I won’t let it go on another minute.”

In the end, though, it was Victoria who convinced me. She’d been quiet for most of the meeting with my father, watching silently from the edge of the room, until she stepped forward and put her hand gently on my arm.

“What would be best for Justine?” she asked me softly.

It’s the question I’ve been repeating to myself all day, and I’m still not sure I’ve made the right decision. But it’s far too easy to mix up my own feelings with what actually benefits her.

As long as we’re married, we’re both pawns in her father’s game. The only way for her to escape him—to escape all of this—is to let go of me, too. She never wanted to be a part of it anyway. She didn’t want to marry me, and she insists that she doesn’t want to be queen. If our marriage is annulled, it will be much easier for her to walk away from it all. To go to Yale like she always planned. To forget about Montovia altogether.

And though I don’t want to admit it to myself, many of the things my father said have taken root beneath my skin. He’s right—if I force myself to look past my feelings toward Justine, she’s given me very little reason to trust her. She’s carried so many secrets, hidden so many of her intentions from me. From the very beginning, my desire for her has blinded me—I thought of her as a puzzle to be solved, not a potential political enemy. If this was all a ruse by her family to manipulate mine, I fell right into their trap.

I made the right decision. And there’s no going back now.

But never before has the right decision felt so agonizingly wrong. Even when I agreed to marry her in the first place—when she was a stranger, and I was sacrificing so much—I knew in my heart that I was doing the right thing, and that gave me strength. Now, I just feel restless.

I head outside, making my way to the gymnasium. It’s been a long time since I had an épée in my hand, and maybe working through some exercises will help work off some of this steam.

My hopes aren’t high, though—just like my hopes for my future.

The official annulment of our marriage happens at four o’clock in the afternoon. Father and Maximilian spent the first part of the day drawing up the agreement, which essentially just negates everything they decided in the original marriage contract. When I arrive, I find that they’ve already signed it themselves. They just need my signature and everything will be final. Since Justine wasn’t involved in the original contract, she’s not needed now, either. I’m both saddened and relieved when I realize she’s not here for the official end of our marriage.

The pen feels heavy in my hand. I stare down at the blank line on the page, wondering what would happen if I told them I’d changed my mind. Would they change theirs? Would they accept my decision and let Justine and me remain married in peace?

But I already know the answer to those questions. This has to end now, one way or the other. My signature won’t end the conflict between our countries, but it will end the mess we’re in right now. That has to be enough.

I take a deep breath. And then I lean over and sign the annulment.