“If you’re right, S?ren won’t go along with it,” he says, his voice dropping.

My stomach twists into knots. Cress isn’t as sadistic as the Kaiser, I tell myself, but I’m not sure how true that is. She’s a broken girl, and I don’t know what she’s capable of anymore.

“He can hold up under torture,” I say, pushing the thoughts from my mind.

Torture. The word hangs between us, sharp and ugly, coloring everything. I feel sick at the thought of S?ren being tortured—tortured because of me. Because I agreed to Cress’s terms and took her poison, even when S?ren begged me not to.

“You promised,” Erik says again, and the words feel like daggers.

“How would it look, Erik?” I ask, frustration seeping into my voice. “I was the youngest person in that room, and they need to see me as an equal, not a lovelorn teenage girl trying to save a boy. We will find a way to save S?ren—I intend to keep that promise—but we have to be smart about it. I am asking you to trust me.”

Erik wavers, and for a moment I worry that he’ll say no. Instead he smiles grimly.

“It’s ironic,” he says. “I don’t think S?ren ever exercised much patience when it came to you.”

I feel the words like a slap even as guilt pools in the pit of my stomach. “Maybe not,” I say. “But look where that got him. There are too many people depending on me for me to make the same mistakes.”

THERE’S AN OLD ASTREAN BALLAD about the sun setting over the Calodean Sea, though it lives in the fray of my memory, fractured and blurred so that all that is left is vague and hazy. Still, I hear the ghost of the melody in my mind now as I watch the vivid orange sun dip below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow on the jagged tips of the mountain range that towers over us, painting the sky in strokes of violet and salmon and turquoise, with the whisper of stars fading into view where the sky is darkest.

I’m home, I think, and my chest clenches around the word like it never wants to let it go again.

The surprise takes me aback. I’ve known I was in Astrea since I set foot on the shore weeks ago, but I don’t think I truly appreciated it until this moment. I’m home, and I will never leave these shores again if I can help it.

“If you’re done getting weepy-eyed over a sunset, we can start,” Artemisia says, though even she doesn’t sound unaffected herself.

I turn away from the sunset and toward her and Heron. Artemisia might wear her exhaustion more palpably, wrapped in grumpiness, but I see it on Heron as well—in the slump of his shoulders, the heaviness in his eyes. If they had their way, they would be sitting down in the mess hall now, piling their plates high with food before settling into easy conversation followed by a night of restful sleep. Instead, though, they followed me deep into the mountain range with nothing but a few pieces of hardtack and dried meat to curb their hunger.

And they did it because I asked it of them. Not as a queen—that might have worked on Heron, but I’m sure Art would have suggested some colorful new uses for my crown if I had. No, they’re here as my friends, and I’m grateful for that.

It wasn’t too long ago that I thought I was incapable of trusting anyone, but here we are, and I would trust the two of them with anything.

Which is why I dragged them out into the middle of the mountains, away from the prying eyes of the others.

I take a steadying breath and look down at my hands, bringing balls of fire to my palms.

Heron has already seen me achieve this much, but Artemisia gives my hands a thoughtful look.

“Decently done,” she says. “But you could do that before the mine. Before the poison, even.”

Heron turns his attention to her with his mouth hanging open, and I realize I never told him that bit. “She could do what?” He looks back at me. “You could do what?”

I sigh, closing my hands and extinguishing the flames. “It wasn’t the same,” I say to both of them. “I couldn’t control it then, and it was never this strong—heat, yes, searing heat even, but not full flames. It was never like this.”

Heron’s mouth is still gaping, but after a second he closes it. “You never told me that,” he said.

I shrug. “I didn’t tell anyone. Art found out by accident. For a while, I thought I might be going mad or that I was cursed….I don’t know. It seemed an easier weight to bear alone.”

“Like back in the capital when you didn’t tell us the Kaiser wanted to marry you?” Heron asks, shaking his head. “You should have told us. Blaise didn’t know, either?”

“No,” I say, looking away. “He had enough to worry about. I didn’t want to add to that.”

Heron nods slowly, weighing his next words carefully. “Is that why he’s not here now?” he asks.

I don’t answer for a moment, crossing my arms over my chest. “We both decided that some distance would do us good,” I say, trying to keep my voice level and free of emotion.

Artemisia snorts. “We’ll see how long that lasts. The two of you are the same, through and through. You need one another like the sea needs the moon.”

Her words prickle irritation deep beneath my skin. “Well, he told me himself that I don’t need him, and I don’t have the time or energy to soothe his ego,” I say. “Besides, if he’s so determined to run headlong into self-destruction, that’s his choice, but I’m not going to cheer him on while he does it.”

Artemisia and Heron exchange looks that I can’t read, before Artemisia sighs.

“All right, so you can summon the flame easily enough, and Heron said that you can change its structure, which is…different,” she says. “But that alone won’t do you much good when you have to use it against an enemy.”

An enemy. I appreciate that she keeps it vague instead of saying Cress’s name. I wonder if hearing it will ever stop feeling like a knife between my ribs. I push her from my mind and focus on the fire, bringing it back to my hands.

Artemisia beckons me toward her. “Sparring practice all over again,” she says with a wry smile. “Try throwing them.”

That startles me. “At you?” I ask. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Artemisia laughs. “It’s charming that you think you could,” she says.

I glance at Heron, who looks wary but resigned. He nods. I pull back my right arm and throw, imagining the fire as a ball. It leaves my hand, but as soon as it’s airborne, it shrinks and disappears into a cloud of smoke.

“See?” Artemisia says. “I told you it wouldn’t hurt me.”

I frown, trying again with my left hand, but the same thing happens. “Ampelio could throw fire,” I say. “He made it look easy.”

“You can make anything look easy if you practice it enough,” Heron says. “The farther the fire gets from you, the weaker it becomes. You have to throw not just the flame but your power with it.”

“That sounds simple, but I don’t know how to do it,” I say.

“Focus and practice,” Heron says. “Now try again, but send your power with it, not just the fire itself. The gem should help. Imagine you’re channeling your power through it.”

I touch Ampelio’s gem at my neck and take a steadying breath before summoning a ball of fire to my right hand again.

“Do you still want me to throw it at you?” I ask Artemisia.

She grins. “Do your worst,” she says.

When I throw the fireball, I feel it in my chest as well as in my arm. Ampelio’s pendant throbs against my skin like a second heartbeat. This time, the fire leaves my hand and holds its form, though it grows weaker as it sails through the air. Artemisia throws a hand up before it hits her and water flies from her fingertips, turning the ball of fire into steam.

“Better,” she says. “But still weak. Let’s go again.”

By the time we make our way back down the mountain, every muscle in my body aches. I almost miss the sword lessons. But as sore as I am, I also feel whole and at peace for the first time in recent memory. I feel right. I know that it’s only the beginning and I’m far from being able to hold my own against Cress, but I’m on the path toward that, and for today, that is enough.

“So, you aren’t going to the capital to rescue S?ren,” Artemisia says as we take the winding path back down toward the camp.

Thinking about S?ren feels like walking down stairs and expecting there is one more step than there is. It throws my world off-kilter.

“No,” I say, hoping I sound steadier than I feel. “It would be foolish to rush in without enough warriors, without a plan. If S?ren were here, he would tell us the same thing.”

“It’s the right call,” Art says with a nod. “And you didn’t lose face by prioritizing an enemy prinz in front of allies who are, at best, tentative in their support.”

“He’s not an enemy,” I say with a sigh.

Artemisia shakes her head. “We know that, and maybe after everything, some others might believe it as well, but there is still a wide chasm between being an enemy and being one of us, and it’s a chasm he will never cross.”