Of course, his marrying me would suit everyone just fine. He would have a wife no one would care what he did to, the Kaiser would collect a hefty price, and I would be even more a prisoner than ever.

I turn my focus out the window to hide my face, but immediately wish I hadn’t. Outside, the capital whirrs by, and though the city has been this way for most of my life, it makes my stomach turn.

Once, beautiful villas of polished sunstone stood proudly along the shore, glittering in the sunlight like the ocean itself. The streets were broad and lively, watched over by sandstone sculptures of the gods that towered tall enough to be seen from the palace windows. Once, the capital was a pretty scene where even the poorest corners were at least whole and clean and cherished.

Now the villas are in disrepair from the siege. Even after ten years, chunks are missing from walls and roofs, patched up poorly with straw and plaster. The limestone doesn’t shine the way it used to, now caked with dull white sea salt. Once-busy streets are all but abandoned, though every so often I see an emaciated, specter-like frame peer at us through a broken window or disappear into an alley.

These are my people, and I have failed them with my fear, with my inaction. While I’ve cowered, they’ve starved, and my mother has watched me from the After with shame.

When the carriage finally turns in to the harbor and pulls to a stop, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’ve been holding.

Here, there is life again. Ships crowd the harbor, with more lurking offshore, waiting. Dozens of patchy cats stalk the docks like they’re in charge, even while they beg sailors for scraps of fish. The Kalovaxian crews work hard, yellow heads glowing in the sun, but they are all well fed at least. Their pleasantly drunk, raucous voices chant sea songs while they build and scrub and scrape barnacles from the ships’ undersides. It’s strange that there aren’t any Astrean slaves to do the hard work, though I must admit it’s a wise choice. The cannons that line the ships on both sides can easily wipe out an enemy ship—or a Kalovaxian one, depending on who is manning it.

Seeing this lifts my spirits. If the Kaiser doesn’t trust my people with weapons, he must still fear us.

I make a mental tally of the ships so that I can report back to Blaise about them. There are three drakkars in port, mounted with wooden dragon heads at the bows and large enough to carry a hundred warriors each. Farther offshore, there is a ship so large I doubt it could fit in the harbor at all. It’s double the size of the drakkars, and I shudder to think of how many warriors it holds. There are also a dozen small ships bobbing in the waves around it, but as unassuming as they seem next to the large ship, they aren’t to be underestimated. They aren’t designed to be big, they’re designed to be fast. Each one can hold fifty people, maybe less, depending on what else it’s carrying.

Blaise mentioned a new weapon, something called a berserker, but maybe it’s a kind of ship. The Kalovaxians have so many names for their ships, I can’t keep them all straight.

I add up the ships and the men it would take to sail them—nearly two thousand warriors at full capacity, much more than what’s needed for one of their usual raids. And these are only the new ships. There are others in the East Harbor, older but still effective, that could triple that number. What is the Kaiser planning that requires so many? Even as I wonder, I know exactly how I’m going to find out.

At first glance, Prinz Søren blends in with the rest of the crew. He’s helping to rig a gold sail emblazoned with the Kalovaxian sigil of a crimson dragon. His simple white cotton shirt is rolled up to the elbows, exposing strong, pale forearms. Corn-silk hair is tied back from his face, emphasizing his angular jaw and cheekbones.

Crescentia must have spotted him as well, because she lets out a light sigh next to me.

“We shouldn’t be here,” she says to me, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

“Well, it’s too late now, I suppose,” I say with a mischievous grin. I loop my arm through hers and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Come on, think of it as bolstering the spirits of our brave warriors before they embark for…where? Do you know?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “The North, more than likely. To deliver gems.”

But these aren’t cargo ships. If they were loaded with Spiritgems in addition to those cannons and the ammo to go with them, they would sink before they left the port. Crescentia doesn’t know the difference and I can’t even fault her for that. If the siege hadn’t happened and I’d grown up a naive and spoiled princess, I doubt I’d have any interest in boats either. But most Kalovaxians love their boats more than some of their children, and I had thought maybe it would be something Ampelio and the other rebels could use against them when they rescued me.

We draw the eyes of the crew as we approach, eliciting shouted greetings and a few vulgar comments that we pretend not to hear.

“Is the Prinz looking?” Crescentia whispers. Her cheeks flush and she smiles sweetly at the ships we pass.

I paste a smile on my face as well, though some of these men must have fought in the siege and those who are too young must have fathers who did. Twenty thousand left. Blaise’s words echo in my head and my stomach twists. These people murdered tens of thousands of my people, and I have to smile flirtatiously and wave like I don’t hate them with every part of me. But I do it, as nauseated as it makes me.

Prinz Søren is so focused on rigging the sail that he doesn’t look up with the rest of his crew. His expression is drawn taut in concentration as he ties intricate knots, brow furrowed and mouth pursed. When he pulls the knot tight and finally looks up, his eyes find mine first and linger for a beat too long before shifting to Crescentia. Blaise might be right, ridiculous as it is. I may be a damsel in distress, but the Prinz can’t very well save me from his own people, can he? From his father, from himself? A monster can’t also play the part of the hero.

He passes the rigging to a member of his crew and comes to the edge of the boat, hopping down easily onto the dock and landing a few feet in front of us. Before he can even straighten up, Crescentia and I are both in deep curtsies.

“Thora, Lady Crescentia,” he says when we rise again. “What brings you to the docks today?”

“I was craving some sea air, Your—” I break off when he gives me a look, reminding me of our agreement last night. “Søren.” But at the sound of his given name, Crescentia gives me a sharp, suspicious look. It seems I can’t win, so I hastily shift focus. “We didn’t realize it would be such an event. What are all the boats for?”

His expression wavers slightly. “Nothing of importance. Dragonsbane is just causing a little trouble along the trade route. Sank a few of our trade ships last week. We’re going to bring him and his allies in,” he says.