Blaise groans. “Theo, we agreed—”

“I never agreed,” I interrupt, squaring my shoulders. “I’m not content to brush the death and enslavement of thousands of people off my hands like they’re nothing but flecks of dirt.”

“They did that to us when the Kalovaxians came to our shores,” Heron says.

“And I’m sure they’ll regret that decision when Søren and his men attack. But the fact remains that the more the Kaiser digs his roots into the area, the more difficult it’s going to be to remove him. When war does come, we’ll already be fighting a difficult battle, but if they have a stronghold in Vecturia as well, they’ll be able to attack from both sides and crush us easily. It won’t be a fight; it’ll be a massacre.”

I wait for protests, but all three are silent. Blaise’s eyes dart around the room, his mouth pursed. I don’t sound like my mother this time, I realize. I sound more like the Kaiser or the Theyn dictating battle strategies, and I’m sure my Shadows notice that difference as well. Blaise is grasping for an argument, so I push forward before he can find one.

“And we are leaving here eventually. When we do, we’re going to need to gather more forces, make stronger alliances. I know the Vecturians aren’t enough, but they’re a start. They’re more than we have now, and they can do more than we can from here. I’m not suggesting that we send what few people we have into an impossible battle, but Artemisia said that Vecturia’s weakness is in the distance between their islands, right? If we can get a warning there and give them the chance to unite, it would become a more difficult fight than Søren is anticipating.”

Blaise nods slowly. “He might even turn back once he realizes he’s lost the element of surprise.”

“Is there a way to send warning?” I ask.

Blaise’s brow furrows and he glances at Artemisia’s wall. “Will your mother do it?” He sounds wary.

She hesitates. “It might take some convincing,” she says. “And I’m still not sure it’s the best idea.”

“If you have any better ones, I’m open to considering them,” I tell her.

Silence. Then, “I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling a few inches taller. The threat of the Kaiser recedes a bit in my mind. I can do this. I can act like a queen.

It takes a few seconds for the implications of what they were talking about to hit me. “Wait. What does your mother have to do with anything?” I ask her.

Artemisia laughs. “She is the most feared pirate on the Calodean Sea. You might know her better as Dragonsbane.”

For a moment, I can only stare at the wall she’s hidden behind. The rebel Astrean pirate is notorious, but I’ve always heard Dragonsbane referred to as a he. It never crossed my mind that it could be a woman. A mother.

A surge of hope bubbles up in my chest and I can’t help but laugh. If Dragonsbane is on our side, our chances just greatly improved. But when I turn back to Blaise, his jaw is set and he looks anything but relieved. I remember what he said about Dragonsbane in the cellar. She is not on our side, not really, even if our interests sometimes align.

But Astrea must be our common interest, right? This is her country, too, and she’s done so much to help it. We have to be on the same side. After all, what other side is there for us?

Before I can ask Blaise more about it, he stands up and holds out a hand to me.

“We can’t dawdle all day,” he says, pulling me to my feet so that I’m facing him. This close, I can feel the warmth rolling from his skin. Even though he hasn’t been outside in days, he smells like the earth after a rainstorm. He cups my cheeks gently, running his thumbs under my eyes to dry the leftover tears there. It’s a surprisingly intimate gesture, from Blaise of all people, and I hear Heron cough awkwardly to remind us of his presence. Blaise clears his throat and steps back. “You have a prinz to charm,” he reminds me before hesitating. “If you can hide a weapon where no one will find it, I can get you something. A dagger, maybe?”

Relief floods me even though I doubt I would know what to do with a knife if the moment came. Still, having it will make me feel better.

“A dagger would be perfect,” I say as a gust of wind blows through the window and raises goose bumps on my skin, bringing an idea with it. “The season is turning. I’ll need my cloak soon.”

His brow furrows. “I suppose so,” he says.

I smile. “How are your sewing skills, Blaise?”

“Abysmal,” he says, though his eyes lighten. “But Heron’s fingers are surprisingly nimble for such a big fellow. Part giant, isn’t that right, Heron?”

“I’m big enough to crush you,” Heron shoots back from behind his wall, but there’s only good humor in his voice.

“Could you sew a dagger into the hem of my cloak?” I ask him.

“Easily,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say to both of them before smoothing my hands over my skirt. “How do I look?” I ask Blaise.

“Lower that neckline half an inch and he doesn’t stand a chance,” he tells me with a smirk.

I give him an annoyed shove toward the door, but when he’s gone, I do it anyway.

* * *

—

Before seeking out Søren, I stop by Crescentia’s rooms. I rarely visit her quarters for fear of having to see her father, but the Theyn is still inspecting the Water Mine, making sure everyone there remembers their place. He’ll bring back a few new gems for Cress, as he usually does. It’s no accident that her collection of Spiritgems rivals even that of the Kaiserin.

Which is why I’m hoping she won’t miss a few now. If our plan has even a sliver of a chance of succeeding, my Shadows need gems.

Elpis answers the door and gives me a shy smile before leading me through the gilded maze of rooms that make up the Theyn’s suite. These were Blaise’s family’s rooms once, but I doubt even he would recognize them now. The entire suite is a living crypt of all the countries the Theyn has brought to ruins.

Most of it comes from Astrea—the burnished brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling that once hung in my mother’s study, the gold-framed mirror crowned with the face of Belsimia, the goddess of love and beauty, that watched over the city’s bathhouse—but there are other pieces that Crescentia had to explain to me. Candlesticks from Yoxi, painted bowls from Kota, a crystal vase from Goraki. The Theyn isn’t a sentimental sort by anyone’s definition, but he does like his souvenirs.