Saying it out loud hurts. Not just emotionally—it’s a physical pain in my chest, dagger-sharp. Because no matter what I want to tell myself about loyalty or friendship or duty, the truth is startlingly simple: I put Cress before my people and she put her ambition before me. I made a mistake and it isn’t one I’ll repeat.

I wait for their condemnation, for them to call me a fool, but the words never come. Not even from Artemisia. Instead, they stay quiet until I speak again.

“There’s your reason,” I tell Blaise, hard resolve coming into my voice. “I’ll do what I need to do, but not yet. The Kaiser will find a way to blame me, even if there’s no proof of it. The Encatrio will make it clear it’s an Astrean attack—which we want—but if I’m still here, he’ll blame it on me. The Theyn is his closest friend; he might even kill me for his and Crescentia’s deaths, no matter what it costs him. We should wait for Søren to get back, for him to speak out publicly against his father. Then we’ll end it all, strike out at the Theyn and Cress and Søren at once. They’ll never see it coming.”

I take a deep breath, surprised at how sure I suddenly feel about all of this. There is no room in me anymore for uncertainty or guilt. I sound older than I am, harder than I am. I don’t sound like my mother—not quite—but I think I might sound like a queen.

“And then we’ll leave. I know we can’t free the slaves in the palace on our way out, there are too many and it would slow us down too much, but we can’t leave without Elpis and her family. I think we owe her that after everything she’s done. Will that be a problem?” I ask.

“No,” Blaise says after a moment. “No problem at all.”

I’M JERKED AWAKE IN THE middle of the night by my door being forced open and a cacophony of heavy boots thundering toward me. It’s a sound that often haunts my nightmares, and at first I think this is just that, but the rough hands that grab my arms and haul me from bed can’t be imagined. The guards are silent and I think my pounding heart is loud enough for all six of them to hear. I want to scream and thrash against them, but I know well enough that that doesn’t do me any good, so I swallow my terror and try to focus.

The Kaiser sent six guards to escort me, more than he usually does when this happens—when he wants to punish me. I would be flattered if I weren’t so afraid. Still, I gather myself enough to cast a gaze to the walls where my Shadows are watching, praying to all the gods that they don’t do anything foolish.

“Would you mind telling me what it’s about this time?” I ask, snapping like Crescentia does when one of her slaves combs her hair too roughly or doesn’t cook her morning egg long enough. Like it’s only a mild annoyance and I’m not facing a whipping. No matter how many times I’m dragged before the Kaiser and beaten to the edge of death, the horror of it never lessens.

I have to struggle not to tremble, not to retreat so deep into my mind that I’ll never find my way out again. But I know my people have endured so much worse than this. I think of Blaise and his scar. Of Heron’s losses. Of what Artemisia told me yesterday. I have to endure.

“Kaiser’s orders,” one guard barks at me. I don’t know his name, though I should by now. He’s one of the Kaiser’s favorites, a former warrior with a scarred face and a nose that looks like it’s been broken too many times to count. He has a meaner streak than most, which is truly saying something, and I know better than to push him.

“I’ll come willingly,” I say, struggling to keep my voice level. “We’ve gone through this enough times that you know I’m no threat. Whatever it is that’s happened, I’ll take the Kaiser’s punishment without complaint. Just as I have in the past.”

The words are less for them than they are for Blaise and the others. Then the thought hits me—What if they’re not there? What if that’s what this is all about, and I’m walking not toward a punishment, but toward an execution?

What if Cress went to the Kaiser anyway and told him everything?

Those thoughts echo through my mind as the guards haul me from my room in my thin nightgown, not even letting me put on shoes. I stumble barefoot on the cold stone floor, stubbing my toes as two guards pull me along by my arms, not slowing down even when the scrapes and scratches of the stones beneath my feet draw blood and they’re more dragging than escorting me. I barely even notice the pain. All I can think is that Cress went to the Kaiser after all and that he has found my Shadows. He’s killed them and now he’ll kill me and all will be lost.

When we finally round a corner, I nearly let out a sigh of relief. They’re taking me to the throne room, not out to the capital square, which means it won’t be a public punishment, as they usually are. The only times punishments happen in the throne room are when the Kaiser doesn’t want word of what caused them to spread outside the palace. If he were executing me for treason, he would need an audience. This is something else, something embarrassing that’s happened that he wants to keep quiet.

The throne room is less crowded than usual, but everyone who matters to the Kaiser is present. The high dukes and duchesses cluster near the throne, the barons and baronesses, the counts and countesses. All the usual joy and merriment has gone out of them; there is only blood in their eyes. Standing in the shadow of the throne is Ion, the traitor Guardian. His eyes are focused on the ground, as they usually are when I’m called before the Kaiser like this. His cowardice won’t let him look at me, not even at the end, when the Kaiser will instruct him to heal my wounds just enough that I can function with them.

“Lady Thora,” the Kaiser says from his seat on my mother’s throne. He leans forward, the Spiritgems that all but blanket him clinking as he moves.

“You summoned me, Your Highness?” I ask, letting my fear show in my voice. It’s no fun for him if I’m not afraid.

For a long moment, he doesn’t speak; he only watches me. His eyes cross my skin, making me too conscious of the thin nightgown I wear, of my exposed calves and feet. I want to cover myself, but that would only anger him and I cannot afford that right now, so I do nothing. I let him look, which feels worse than any whipping.

Finally he speaks. “Three weeks ago, my son led a battalion of four thousand men to Vecturia. Two weeks ago, I received word that they were met with troops that had been expecting them, but my son assured me that victory was still possible. He and his warriors fought valiantly until days ago, when his ships were attacked from the other side by a fleet believed to be under the command of the notorious pirate Dragonsbane. What was supposed to be a simple Conquering became an ambush that cost many of our men’s lives.”

Many of the courtiers gathered have sons who would have been in Søren’s crew, I realize, young men who had been sent on an easy Conquering that should have bolstered their reputations with minimal risk to their safety. At least until I evened the field.