“She didn’t need to send a message, not really,” I say. “The Encatrio she was given was made from Cress’s blood—it binds them. Just as I can see Cress in my dreams, just as I saw Dagm?r, Rigga can see them as well. Communicate with them. Cress knows we’re here.”

“All it took was a drop of a sleeping draught and a quick nap as soon as we received word that your troops were approaching, though I didn’t know you were alive at the time. That will be a wonderful surprise for her, don’t you think?” Rigga says, barely able to contain her glee. “Imagine—she only sent me here to give my cousin and my nieces the same choice she gave me. I was so disappointed when they refused. Wilhelmina actually had the nerve to throw the potions I’d brought out the window—caused a nasty little fire. I was dreading having to tell my Kaiserin that I’d failed her and wasted the Encatrio. But alas! Here you are, and I can’t imagine she will see me as a failure now. She will be here in roughly two days, so we have quite a wait ahead of us. Call for dinner,” she says, looking to her cousin.

Lady Ovelgan keeps her eyes on her son, wide and frightened, as she clears her throat.

“Dinner,” she calls, her voice ringing out like a bell, without any hint of fear or wavering.

A moment passes in silence, but nothing happens. The door to the kitchen hallway remains closed. There is no sound of footsteps or voices. Only silence.

S?ren and I exchange a loaded look.

Lady Ovelgan looks at the door, her brow furrowing.

“Dinner!” she calls out again, louder this time. Still there is no response.

“Well,” Rigga says through clenched teeth. “Go check on them.”

Lady Ovelgan doesn’t move, her eyes locked instead on her son, her hand clutching his back.

“I’ll go,” Lord Ovelgan says, pushing his chair back.

“No,” Rigga says, eyes narrowing. “You’ll stay where you are. Wilhelmina, see what’s keeping them.”

With a pained expression, Lady Ovelgan pries her son’s fingers from her hand and stands up, then walks toward the kitchen hall door with shaking shoulders.

S?ren and I exchange another look. We both know what she’ll find in the kitchen, and we can both guess at what will happen when she does.

“So,” I say, an idea taking shape in my mind. “Cress made you powerful, more powerful than you ever could have been on your own.”

Rigga turns to me, a single eyebrow raised. It’s the same way she used to look at me back at the palace, like I was a bug beneath her shoe, hardly worthy of her attention.

“Yes,” she says slowly.

“But not as powerful as she is,” I say. “Isn’t that right?”

The words hit home. The corners of Rigga’s mouth pull down slightly before her expression smooths out.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says coldly. “She put fire in my veins and vengeance in my heart. She made me strong.”

I let myself smile. I give her the same contemptuous, pitying gaze she used to give me when I was only the Princess of Ashes.

“But not strong enough,” I say. “I’ve seen Cress; I’ve seen her power; I’ve seen what she can do with it. She gave you her gift, yes, but she made you a shadow of what she is, nothing more. She doesn’t see you as her equal; she sees you as a servant.”

This time, Rigga flinches, her grip on Fritz tightening until the boy cries out in pain.

“Theo,” S?ren says. “Don’t.”

I ignore him and push forward. “I’ll bet she only gave you a few drops of the Encatrio, barely a taste of what she had.”

Rigga’s lips purse. “It’s a poison,” she says calmly. “It has to be dosed out by the drop, or else it could have killed me.”

I lift my eyebrows and laugh. “By the drop?” I ask, shaking my head. “Gods above, I gave Cress an entire vial and she survived that. A drop. She must think so little of you.”

“It was enough,” she says, lifting her free hand and summoning a ball of fire barely the size of her pinky nail.

I laugh louder. “I’m sorry,” I manage to get out. “I shouldn’t laugh; it’s rude. I just…Is that really all she gave you? How much can you really do with that little power? Why, Dagm?r had enough power to kill her husband and all of his sons. What can you do? Light a few candles?”

She grits her teeth, bringing the fire in her hand close to Fritz’s face. He tries to squirm away from it, but she holds him tight. “You see?” she asks me. “I can do enough.”

“Theo,” S?ren says, more insistent now, but still I ignore him.

“Yes, it’s very impressive,” I say, lifting my hand and summoning my own flame, so large that I can barely contain it. Just as quickly as I summon the flame, I close my hand and snuff it out. “You will let me know if you grow bored of threatening children and want to make yourself a little stronger, won’t you?”

Rigga’s eyes glint, but before she can answer, Lady Ovelgan enters the room again, expression bewildered.

“The servants—” she starts, her voice high with panic.

“Hush, Wilhelmina,” Rigga interrupts, not sparing her so much as a glance. Instead her eyes are focused on me, hungry. “What are you talking about?”

I force my hands not to shake as I draw the vial of Encatrio from the pocket of my dress.

“I was saving this for myself, in case I needed another dose,” I tell her, before pausing. “But I could trade it for the boy. Let him go, and I’ll give it to you.”

Her eyes dart around, but there’s a manic sheen in them. She’s more than tempted by the offer. “And what’s to stop me from just taking it from you?” she asks me.

I hold out my arm, holding the glass vial over the tile floor. “If you try, I’ll drop it,” I say.

“That could kill us all,” Lord Ovelgan says, panicked. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“I’m not,” I say, keeping my eyes on Rigga. “I’m merely giving her the choice. Let the boy go be upstairs with his sisters, out of the way. We’ll stay here, with you, until Cress gets here. You’ll lose your child hostage, but you’ll have enough power to keep us here without one.”

Rigga considers it, licking her cracked black lips.

“No,” she says softly, though the word seems to cost her. “There’s a trick somewhere. It’s not an even trade for you otherwise.”

I shrug. “I have no qualms about staying here with you, Rigga,” I say before gesturing to Erik and S?ren. “We were on our way to confront Cress at the palace. In bringing her here, you’re doing me a favor. My only concern just now is that you’re going to hurt that boy. You don’t want to do that. So do us both a favor and let him go, and I’ll give you the potion. Think of how pleased Cress will be, to realize that you’re stronger than she thought you were, that you’re her equal.”

Rigga leans forward, her eyes intent, fingers digging into Fritz’s skin until he cries out in pain. After what feels like an eternity, she releases him, pushing him off her lap. He scrambles for his mother, wraps his arms around her waist, and buries his face in her dress, crying.

“Shh,” Lady Ovelgan says, smoothing his hair. “Go wait with your sisters, all right, my love? I’ll come find you soon.”

With some reluctance, Fritz obeys her, skittering out of the room as quickly as he can. When he’s a safe distance away, I pass Rigga the vial of Encatrio.

“How did you get it?” she asks me, inspecting the opalescent liquid in awe. “It’s exactly the same as what I drank.”

There’s no reason to lie, so I tell her the truth. “Cress gave it to me. She thought I was someone else, someone she wanted to turn. I held on to it in case I needed it.”

The answer seems to be good enough for her. With wild eyes that seem to glow in the candlelight, she unstoppers the poison and pours it into her cousin’s full wine goblet.

“Don’t drink too much,” I tell her, trying to sound concerned. “You don’t know what will happen. Cress and I both managed to drink it all, but you might not be as strong as we are.”

Rigga waves my concern away, taking the words as the challenge I intended them to be. She takes a deep breath and then tips the goblet back and drinks the poisoned wine in a few gulps, before slamming the goblet down again on the table with a thud that echoes throughout the space.

With a rasping, quiet scream, she crumples to the ground, her body writhing in agony as the black mark at her throat begins to spread, burning the skin as it goes.

The only other person I saw drink Encatrio was Elpis, and though I feel no pity for Rigga, I can’t help but think of that now, watching as Rigga’s neck, her chest, and the rest of her body begin to burn from the inside out, turning the air rancid with the smell of charred flesh. It’s difficult to watch, but I don’t let my eyes leave her body until she finally stops moving, well and truly dead.

In the silence that follows, I hear Lord Ovelgan let out a breath of relief.

“Thank you,” he says to me, sounding sincere. “You have our gratitude. You’re free to pass through our lands.”

He says it so magnanimously that I can’t stifle a laugh.

“Of course we are,” I say to him. “After all, they are no longer your lands. They’re mine, property of the Astrean crown, which means that you are the trespassers.”