“Do you have to do that?” she asks, each word an icicle.

“Yes,” I say, not bothering to elaborate. I stop in front of the desk. “You have some experience in battle. If you had to hazard a guess what is happening, what would it be?”

Dragonsbane exhales, crossing one ankle over the other. “I couldn’t begin to guess,” she says. “We didn’t allow opportunities for messengers on the sea. We fired until they surrendered—no parlays, no talking. This sort of battle is…well, it isn’t exactly my forte.”

It seems to pain her to admit that.

Maile leans forward in her chair. “The simplest explanation is that they are warning us of their return, giving us a chance to flee.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think the Kalovaxians would waste time on a warning. Besides, they’re running low on bodies to work in the mines. Letting anyone leave this camp unchained would be a foolish decision, and the Kalovaxians aren’t fools. We all know that too well.”

Maile’s eyes dart to Erik’s and linger there, heavy and a touch accusatory. “What do you think of it?” she asks.

Erik looks at Maile, surprised. “I don’t know any more than you do,” he says.

But Maile isn’t dissuaded. She pushes herself up from her chair and crosses toward Erik. The hair on the back of my neck prickles as I watch them, unsure of what exactly is crackling between them. Nothing good, that’s for certain.

“I find that difficult to believe,” Maile says. “You are one of them, aren’t you?”

Every muscle in Erik’s body goes as taut as a pulled bowstring. His eyes narrow, and he looks like he could happily hit Maile—which is exactly what I’m worried about. I open my mouth to speak, but Erik cuts me off with a look before turning back to Maile.

“I have Kalovaxian blood, yes. By force. By violence. But I am not one of them any more than you are,” he says, his voice so quiet that I have to strain to hear him. “The only thing the Kalovaxians gave me was skill with a sword, and if you insinuate otherwise again, I will gladly show you as much.”

Maile balks, taking a step back. “Are you threatening me?” she asks, her voice rising to a thundering crescendo.

Erik shrugs but doesn’t deny it. “Only if you truly are the idiot even your own men say you are,” he says, each word acidic. “Are you?”

“That’s enough,” Dragonsbane says, swinging her legs off the desk and planting them firmly on the ground, as if she’s ready to stand at any moment. “You are both idiots if you think it productive to fight each other instead of the enemy quite literally at our gate.”

Maile’s face flushes red, and her jaw stays clenched tight, but she steps away from Erik, retreating to stand on the other side of the room.

“I’m not saying anything anyone else wasn’t thinking,” she mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear. “He could be a spy.”

At that, Erik laughs. “Of everyone in this camp, you think the Kalovaxians would be simple enough to make a spy out of the only one who shares their blood? They didn’t get where they are by making simple choices. I’d be more wary of the servants we turned to spies betraying us, or of the members of Dragonsbane’s crew that come from Elcourt, or even the reckless and idiotic youngest daughter of a chief who thinks her useless.”

At that, Maile lunges at Erik, but Dragonsbane is ready for it. In an instant, she’s on her feet and over the desk in one lithe motion, shoving Maile into a chair. Maile must be twice Dragonsbane’s size, but Dragonsbane manages it so easily that she only looks annoyed. Maile is as surprised as the rest of us, but Dragonsbane doesn’t spare her another glance, instead turning to a wide-eyed Erik.

“And I will thank you not to slander my crew, even if it is only hypothetically,” she says. “I trust my people just as you trust your own.”

Erik is speechless, but manages to nod.

“No one in this room is a spy,” I say, my voice quavering. “The second we turn on each other is the second the Kalovaxians win.”

As soon as I say it, Cress’s words from my dream come back to me, gathering like oil in the pit of my stomach.

“You made a patchwork quilt of warriors from different countries with different beliefs, different goals….All it takes is for one thread to be cut, and then the whole thing comes apart.”

“Your Majesty?” Sandrin says, his voice surprisingly gentle in the midst of so much anger and shouting. “Are you all right?”

I blink and turn my attention to him, forcing a smile. “Quite,” I say, hoping I sound steadier than I feel. “I’m only impatient to find out what’s happening so we can get out of this godsforsaken room.”

I almost believe myself—after all, it isn’t a lie, exactly. But no one sees the deeper layer of panic working through me. No one hears Cress’s words echoing in my mind over and over again until I worry they’ll drive me mad.

Because it would be so easy for this alliance to fall apart—not just because of Erik and Maile. The ties that are binding us together are flimsy. And without them, we wouldn’t be able to make any kind of stand against the Kalovaxians.

AN ETERNITY PASSES BEFORE THE door swings open and Heron enters, out of breath from running. In an instant all of us are on our feet and my heart is thundering so loudly that I fear everyone in the room can hear it.

“Was it a trap?” I ask, stepping forward and gripping the edge of the desk tightly.

Heron shakes his head, too winded to speak. After a second of thought, though, he hesitates and nods. “In a manner of speaking,” he manages. “Everyone is fine. It was only the one messenger—but the message.”

“S?ren?” Erik asks, his voice cracking. “Is he all right?”

Heron’s gaze catches on Erik. “He didn’t say anything about S?ren,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“What did he say?” Dragonsbane asks.

Heron takes a steadying breath. “He brought a very…attractive truce offer from the Kaiserin. Granting freedom and land and ships.”

“Our freedom is not hers to grant,” I say.

“No,” Maile agrees. “But it is a very tempting offer all the same, and one with no more bloodshed. We would be fools not to consider it.”

Sandrin clears his throat. He’s been sitting so quietly in the corner that it’s easy to forget he’s there, but now he pulls the attention of the room like a flame draws moths.

“There must have been a catch to an offer like that,” he says, his voice level and low. “What was it?”

“The peace offer is only good for one country. One group of us,” Heron says. “The details the messenger provided were clear, even going so far as to define Dragonsbane’s fleet as a country all its own.”

A laugh forces its way from my throat, hysterical and shrill and somewhat inhuman. I clamp a hand over my mouth, but that does little to muffle the sound, and once I start, I can’t stop. It is the laugh of a madwoman, and that is how everyone looks at me. Like I’ve gone mad. Maybe I have gone mad. How else could I have dreamed that Cress would do something like this, only to have it proven true?

This is how she pulls the thread, removing one country from our alliance and letting the rest of us fall apart without it. Heron was right—it is a trap, but one that’s been alluringly baited.

“Theo,” Erik says. He seems to forget he’s upset with me, crossing to my side to put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“She’s finally cracked,” Maile says. “I knew that mine did something to her.”

“Perhaps. Why don’t we throw you down there and see how you come out?” Dragonsbane replies, stunning Maile to silence.

“Stop it,” I manage, straightening up. “This is what the Kalovaxians want—to break us apart. That’s why they’re making this offer. It’s brilliant, but we can’t let it work. We will win together or not at all.”

“Pretty words,” Sandrin says with a heavy sigh. “But pretty words don’t win battles. Neither does loyalty. The Kalovaxians win because they are ruthless, because they have no loyalty. It is deplorable, yes, but they are alive and thriving, while the people under my care are neither.”

“You can’t truly be considering this,” Dragonsbane says, aghast.

“I am,” he says. “And you should as well. It is a good offer.”

“For one of us,” I say. “For a sliver of our army. What about everyone else? You would run and abandon us?”

Sandrin doesn’t have a reply to that. He only sets his jaw, his eyes fixed on something far away. My stomach drops. If Sandrin leaves, he’ll take the refugees with him. Some might stay with me, but most of the Sta’Criveran refugees followed me because he encouraged it. They would follow him now, too, and we have refugees from the other camps as well. If even half of them followed him, we would feel the loss of them keenly.

Heron clears his throat.

“Not only abandon,” he says. “The party who accepts the offer of peace will become an ally of Kalovaxia, fighting beside them in this war. Whoever accepts the peace offering won’t merely step out of the war—they’ll change sides.”