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Ash Princess by Laura Sebastian (30)

I WALK BACK TO MY ROOMS alone after the banquet, though I’m sure everyone I pass assumes my Shadows are nearby. That’s the good thing about having guards prized for their skill at going unnoticed—no one misses them when they aren’t around.

The pounding of my heart thunders through my body, but I’m not sure if it’s caused by excitement or panic or dread or some combination of the three. Despite the chill in the air, my skin feels clammy, and my sweat mixes with the ash flakes from my crown, causing it to streak down my face. With shaking hands, I wipe it off, my palms coming away black.

It’s almost over, I tell myself. Almost. But no matter how far I get from this place and the Kaiser, I know I will never forget tonight, the leer in his eyes and his hand on my knee. I wonder if I’ll ever sleep peacefully again.

I reach the door to my room and push it open, almost letting out a scream of surprise. Blaise and Heron sit on the edge of my bed, waiting in anxious silence.

Heron shoots to his feet at the sight of me, peppering me with questions that I only half hear, but Blaise just looks at me, his eyes boring into mine. He doesn’t have to ask questions; I think he sees my every thought written plainly on my face.

I don’t know what to say to them, so I say nothing, crossing to my vanity and looking at my reflection in the mirror—a wild-eyed girl in a garish dress with black streaks covering most of her face.

“Here,” Heron says quietly, appearing behind me. “I can hold your hair back, if that helps.”

“Please,” I say, barely louder than a whisper.

His fingers are gentle as they rake through my hair, pulling it away from my face. Ash is there, too, coating the top of my head in a sheet of gray, but there is nothing to do about that. Søren won’t be long, and now, more than ever, everything needs to happen perfectly. With Heron holding my hair, I splash water from the basin onto my face, washing away the sweat and ash and cosmetics.

I give myself one more moment as I pat my face dry with a towel, and Heron steps away from me, letting my hair fall down around my shoulders again. When I turn around to face them, I am strong and sure and ready to rise. I am Queen Theodosia.

“It worked,” I tell Heron and Blaise, looking between them. “Better than I expected, even. The Prinz made a scene—called the Kaiser selfish and laid the lives of his fallen comrades at his feet. Honestly, given the way the Kaiser was looking at him, he might kill Søren himself, though that’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Søren will be here soon and the plan is on track.”

Blaise nods, eyes holding mine. “Elpis’s family is on board Dragonsbane’s ship. Artemisia is waiting there to make sure her mother keeps her word.”

Heron digs into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a leather hair tie, a scrap of crimson fabric embroidered with a gold dragon, and an Earth Gem.

“I nicked these,” he says, passing them to me. “Scatter them on the ground, make it look like a fight.”

I nod, taking them. I’ll need a different dress, one with pockets to hold them, but I’m anxious to get out of this one anyway.

“Søren will be here soon,” I tell them. “You should both already be gone when he gets here. I’ll tell him I want to go for a sail and I’m sure he’ll be happy to oblige—he’s more comfortable on the water than here in the palace. Off the East Harbor, it’s a small boat with a red sail.”

“I’ll be waiting in another boat nearby. We should have a signal for if you run into trouble,” Blaise says.

“I’ll scream. That’ll be signal enough,” I tell him before turning to Heron. “That leaves you to get Elpis. Do you remember where the Theyn lives?”

Heron nods. “I remember,” he says. He takes a step toward the door before turning back toward me. “Is it all right if I hug you?”

“We’re going to see each other in an hour or so,” I say with a half smile. “But yes, I would like that.”

Heron smiles back before closing the distance between us and wrapping his lanky arms around me. It’s a good hug, the kind that feels like safety and home and love. I let myself get lost in it for a moment before pulling back.

“I’ll see you soon,” I tell him emphatically.

“Soon,” he repeats before hugging me again, briefly, and letting me go. Quiet as a light breeze, he slips from the door, leaving Blaise and me alone.

“I don’t like the idea of you taking on the Prinz on your own,” he says quietly.

“I know,” I tell him. “But you can’t very well follow us through the tunnels without being noticed. And I can do it. You said it yourself: Søren won’t hurt me.”

“He will if he thinks you’re trying to kill him.”

“He won’t,” I say, certain of it.

Blaise is quiet for a long moment. “I believe you can kill him, but you shouldn’t have to be the one to do it.”

“It’s war,” I point out. “I won’t lose sleep over it.”

Blaise shakes his head, his eyes heavy. “Yes, you will.”

A lump rises in my throat and I swallow it down. “You really need to go, Blaise,” I tell him. “Søren will be here soon, and I need to change.”

He nods, but he doesn’t make a move to leave.

“Blaise—”

“I’ll go, don’t worry,” he says, hands fidgeting in front of him. “It’s just…we might never come back here, Theo. This is our home.

His words twist in my chest and I shake my head. “It’s a cage, stained with the blood of too many people we’ve loved. It hasn’t been home for a long time now.”

“Still,” he says, his voice hoarse as he takes a step toward me. “We took our first steps here. We said our first words. This was the last place we were truly happy.”

I hold back tears that threaten to fall. “It’s only walls, Blaise, and roofs and floors. Yes, it’s full of memories, but that’s all they are.”

He stays quiet for a moment, hands coming to rest on my shoulders. He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Be safe,” he says. “And don’t do anything foolish. I’ll see you soon, Your Highness.”

It isn’t until after he’s gone that I realize he’s never called me that before. I’ve always just been Theo with him, but maybe Theo—like Thora—won’t exist for much longer. Soon, all that will be left of me is Queen Theodosia, and as much as I want that, I can’t help but mourn the loss of those other parts of me.