She fell in step with me, not making a sound on the fallen leaves on the trail. That broken branch I heard must have been deliberate. I wondered what the last four years had been like for her, raising a small child in exile. Somehow, despite starting a new life with nothing but the clothing on her back, she had grown a network of followers who were willing to risk their lives for her. True, not all her troops were loyal, but there were many who had joined her cause of their own volition. They must have seen something in her that inspired enough confidence to risk the consequences of an uprising that was by no means guaranteed to succeed.

“I do,” she admitted. “And I’m grateful you chose not to tell Talin. You were right, of course. He never would have stood for it, not if it wasn’t coming from you.” She cleared her throat, looking uncharacteristically discomfited. “The truth is, I have seen very little of genuine love in my life. My parents’ marriage was not a happy one. And though I cared for my late husband, it was not the kind of love you and Talin have for each other. I was wrong about you, Nor.”

The best I could offer her was a tight nod of acknowledgment. I wasn’t about to thank her.

“And the truth is, I owe you a debt for ending this war,” she continued. “We might have won without you, but at the cost of many more lives.”

I stopped and turned to face her. “I didn’t do it for you, Talia. I did it for my parents, the Varenians, and all the innocent Ilareans who would have died if you’d had your way. I did it for the good of the kingdom.”

“I understand,” she said, annoyingly unflappable.

“Besides, I’m not even sure if the war really is over. Ceren asked me what it was you loved so much about Varenia and why you wanted to go back. And I honestly couldn’t answer him. I don’t know what you want, Talia. Is it to see your daughter on the throne because you think she’ll be a wise and fair ruler? Or is it simply because you’re as blinded by power as every other royal?”

She sighed and looked away, but not before I saw her brow furrow like Talin’s, a timely reminder that he was her son, no matter her flaws. And while her cold detachment and ruthless pursuit of power hadn’t been passed on to her son, I knew that the things I loved most about him—his loyalty, his selflessness, his compassion—had come from her.

“I don’t know what you want to hear, Nor. Ruling is a messy business. Peace, as you seem to envision it, isn’t real.”

The last thing I wanted to do was agree with her, but what if she was right? What did I know about ruling? I had seen several different ways of governing of late, and any system that put few people in control of many was going to have flaws. I could acknowledge that there were others with far more wisdom and experience who could make these sorts of decisions, but did I really want to spend my life with someone so close to all this? If I married Talin, I would never be able to escape the drama and danger of court politics.

“What will you do when we find Zoi?” I asked finally. “What if Ceren demands the crown in return?”

She shook her head. “I would think you would understand better than anyone, Nor. I have spent my life obeying the commands of men. First to leave Varenia, then to marry Xyrus, then to bear his children, and then to sit by while my stepson rose to the throne, even though it wasn’t his by right. Why should I give up anything else? Why shouldn’t I have everything a man has?”

“Of course I understand all that. But that’s not a good enough reason to rule a kingdom or to force people to follow a cause they may not even believe in.”

She placed her hand on my arm. “At the end of this, Nor, someone will be responsible for Ilara and all the people in it. You need to ask yourself who that someone should be. And if you don’t believe in me, at least try to believe in my children.”

“I’ll try,” I said, then returned to the camp alone.

* * *

We rose before the sun to resume our chase. Several of the Galethians had searched the woods through the night, their surefooted horses capable of navigating the road in the dark. But they circled back by midday, having seen nothing. When the road wound north, toward Riaga, Talin brought our party to a stop.

“Would he go into the city?” Roan asked Talin, his hand shading his dark eyes from the sun. “Seems to me he’d be far too conspicuous there.”

Talin said something in response, but I barely heard him. Something was calling me forward, off the road and toward the horizon. I rode ahead silently, as if I was being reeled in by an invisible thread. Titania was more alert as well, her nostrils flaring as she breathed heavily, but I wasn’t sure if that had to do with me or whatever I was sensing.

The horizon blurred, and suddenly I was no longer looking at land but a wide strip of blue. Just the sight of the ocean released something inside of me, and I breathed in until my ribs ached, letting the salt air fill my lungs. We had come to the edge of a cliff overlooking the Alathian Sea, stretched out in all its glory as far as the eye could see. There was no sign of Ceren, and it seemed unlikely he could have commandeered a ship. We were still miles from the port.

“Don’t move, or I’ll kill her.”

Titania pivoted on her hind legs before the words registered. Somehow, Ceren had managed to come up behind me on foot. I froze the moment I saw the bundle in his arms.

Talin and the rest of our party were on the other side of Ceren. “Put her down,” Talin demanded. The Galethians had their crossbows trained on Ceren, but Talin hadn’t drawn a weapon. I wondered how he thought he’d convince his brother to do anything in his current state.

Ceren was spinning back and forth like a caged animal with Zoi cradled in his arms, unconscious or asleep, I hoped. There was a wild look in his eyes that I’d only seen when I stabbed him in New Castle.

“Let her go,” I urged, sliding off Titania’s back slowly. “Please. She’s just an innocent child.”

I raised my palms and took a step closer. He was wearing a black cloak, but the hood had fallen back, revealing his blond hair, tangled and matted like I’d never seen it before. His ashen skin was pulled taut over his cheekbones, and the shadows around his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks reminded me of the skeletons in the New Castle crypt. His gray eyes darted between us, as if he thought one of us might make a sudden move.

“This war is over,” I said softly. “Hurting your little sister isn’t going to change that.”

He turned to me, his lips twisted in a sneer. “And what is she to you? Did she give you jewels and gowns, as I did? Did she offer you a crown? Would she have promised you a kingdom, Nor?”

How could he still not understand that none of that mattered to me, that I had no use for gowns and jewels, or even power? As he spoke, his grip on Zoi had tightened, and she whimpered quietly. “Ceren, please.”