—

On my way out of the office, I nearly run into Artemisia and Laius, standing in front of the door, ready to come in. Artemisia blinks at me for a second before lowering her arm.

“One more thing to discuss,” she says. “About Brigitta and Jian.”

I close the door and lead them down the walkway. “I don’t like turning her over, but we have to,” I say. “Of the two of them, he’s more valuable—we can’t let the Kalovaxians have access to a weapon like the velastra.”

“I’m not arguing that,” Artemisia says. “But the Kaiserin must know about the velastra. She wouldn’t have given up the Water Mine easily, and you said it yourself: the Sta’Criveran army isn’t—wasn’t—very strong. When we don’t have him, she’ll be angry. As unpredictable as she is, the whole plan could fall apart.”

“It’s a rigid plan,” I agree, the same thing I just told Maile and Heron. I shake my head. “But I would rather risk her fury now than put that weapon in her hands. The rebellion can rise again—you told me that once. But if the Kaiserin has the velastra, there will be no rebellion, not from anyone, ever again.”

Artemisia doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking at Laius, whose mouth is pressed into a thin line as he stares straight ahead with heavy brown eyes.

“But if there was a way to give the Kaiserin both Brigitta and Jian, while not giving her Jian at all? No risk of raising her suspicions or inciting her temper? A way to ensure that she and her troops are long gone before she realizes anything is amiss?” she asks. When she sees my confusion, she turns her gaze to Laius. “Go ahead. Tell her what you told me.”

Laius swallows. He looks so young—sixteen, maybe—but that’s only a year younger than I am. He’s the same age I was when I killed Ampelio, when Blaise came and offered me a chance to fight back. He has that look about him now, the look of someone ready for a fight. That is what scares me, even before he speaks.

“I’ve gotten good at disguising myself,” he says, his voice level. “I can hold an illusion on myself for long periods of time. It doesn’t drain me the way it does the others, and with Blaise’s training, it doesn’t make me lose control, either. It’s not big enough magic for that.”

I frown. “What exactly are you saying, Laius?” I ask him.

“The man, Jian, he has information the Kaiserin wants. Information we don’t want her to have,” he says. “So send me in his place. I don’t know anything.”

“No,” I say, almost before he’s finished talking. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m not a child, Your Majesty,” he says. “I’m not naive. I know what life has in store for me. I saw what happened…what happened to Blaise. That is my future. I know that I don’t get to see the end of this war. But if I can help in ending it, that will be enough.”

“We aren’t only talking about your death, Laius,” I say. “We are talking about torture first, about her trying to pry information from you however she can, until you wish for death.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. Finally, he looks at me, his eyes somber.

“Did you wish for death, Your Majesty?” he asks quietly.

“Pardon?”

“We’ve all heard the stories of the things you endured when you were held by the Kaiser, how he tried to get information from you that last night, how you were tortured both physically and mentally. How you persisted through it and that’s the only reason I was freed, the only reason we are here at all today.”

For a moment, I can’t speak. I remember standing in the throne room, watching as my own blood trickled to the tile below, knowing that death was inevitable but that I would do everything I could to protect the rebellion. I remember how Elpis made the same choice when she swallowed the last of the Encatrio and burned up from the inside before my eyes.

He’s too young, I think, but he’s not. He’s the same age I was. He’s older than she was.

I look at Artemisia and find my own thoughts mirrored on her face.

“Are you sure, Laius?” I ask him, my voice low. “You need to be sure.”

He considers it for only a second before nodding. “I’m sure,” he says. “For Astrea, I’m sure.”

IT IS A STRANGE THING, to wear Princess Amiza’s face. I barely remember what she looks like, only having met her briefly in Sta’Crivero, the night we first arrived. She didn’t speak much, except to ask about the punishments I’d suffered at the hands of the Kaiser. Artemisia must have gotten a good look at her at some point, though, because when she shows me my reflection in a small hand mirror, I recognize the Princess’s face at once.

When I look down at my bare arms, they’re the same burnished bronze color as King Etristo’s daughter-in-law’s.

“I could only do so much,” Artemesia says, giving me the once-over and taking the mirror back, tucking it into her pocket. “So try to remember that you’re a twenty-something-year-old woman who’s led a soft life. All curtsies and fluttering and grace.”

I wish I could remember more about Amiza, but I only met her the one time. Suddenly it strikes me as strange that I never saw her again, but perhaps, like the rest of the pretty things in their possession, the Sta’Criverans kept her for display only, never letting her do more than look beautiful and birth heirs.

I hope that she wasn’t really on one of those ships with Avaric.

“You don’t have to do this,” Heron says, though he doesn’t look like Heron. Instead he wears Avaric’s face. He was the only one tall enough to pass as the crown prince, and he hesitated for just a second before agreeing. He didn’t want me to take the risk with him, though. He urged me to evacuate with the others, to keep Blaise calm when he woke up from the magic-induced slumber I asked Heron to put him under.

“I need to see her,” I say, though even to my own ears, that sounds foolish. I shake my head. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just…if someone is going to face her, it needs to be me. Besides, I know her better than anyone, how she’ll react to certain things, what she’ll want to hear. It needs to be me.”

* * *

—

After the Kalovaxians are spotted approaching, Heron and I set out to meet them, bringing a handful of disguised Fire and Water Guardians with us, including Artemisia. When Art took Brigitta to relieve herself earlier, Heron and I switched Jian and a disguised Laius. Jian was understandably confused and panicked, but time was of the essence, so Heron had to use his gift to knock him unconscious. Jian was taken far from camp after that, across the lake to where the infirmary has been set up. The guards stationed there have orders—if the plan goes awry and it looks like the Kalovaxians are going to take the camp, Jian will be killed before the Kalovaxians can get to him.

The thought horrifies me, but not as much as Cress’s having access to velastra.

So now Brigitta and Laius are bound together, both gagged. The gagging seemed unnecessary at first, but I don’t trust Brigitta any more than she trusts me. I don’t know what she’ll say to Cress, or how she will react when she learns Jian is no longer Jian. All I can do is hope that Cress and her men are long gone before Brigitta’s gag is removed.

I don’t know what is going on in Brigitta’s mind, but her steps never falter. Her gray eyes—the same as Cress’s—stay focused straight ahead. There’s nothing I can do for her, I remind myself, but it does little to ease my guilt.

I focus on holding myself like Amiza would, hands clasped delicately in front of me, shoulders squared, head bowed. Delicate and deferential.

Heron seems to be having a harder time pretending to be Avaric. He looks decidedly uncomfortable, unsure of how to stand, what to do with his hands. It’s lucky that Cress has never met Avaric. Besides, no one has any reason to suspect imposters. We are barely one step ahead of the Kalovaxians, but we are still ahead.

We stop a good half mile away from the camp in hopes that we can keep the Kalovaxians from setting foot in the camp at all. The other Water Guardians are ready to disguise it if Cress’s soldiers do enter, and I arranged for the letter I wrote to be delivered as soon as we have need of it, but I would rather it not come to that.

It’s only a moment before the cluster of horses approaches, pulling a single golden carriage. Fifty guards, I would guess. A good quarter of a mile behind, I can make out the army she brought with her, though I can’t begin to count how many warriors there are. Too many, certainly, if it comes to a fight. I can’t imagine they were brought to serve much purpose except to intimidate the Sta’Criverans and remind them who holds the reins in this partnership.