The Water Gems send a thrum beneath my skin, working all the way down to my toes. The power dances under my fingertips, begging me to call on it. I have no cause to change my appearance, no thirst for water, but the need to use the gems pulls at me until it fills my mind with a pleasant buzz that is never quite enough.
This temptation was never there before the siege, when only Guardians carried a single gem each, but I remember holding Ampelio’s Fire Gem and feeling its power course through me. I remember him cautioning me never to use it, his usually jovial expression suddenly somber and heavy.
I push aside the memory and focus on the task at hand and sift through the jewel box again, pretending to look for earrings for Cress. As ugly as the dress is, I’m grateful for the long sleeves. They make it easy to slip an earring and a bracelet against my wrist, hidden from sight. Pressed up against my pulse, the Spiritgems find a steady rhythm I can’t ignore, echoing my heartbeat.
My fingers linger on a Fire Gem, though I know there’s no need for it. If the other gems buzz through me pleasantly, the Fire Gem feels like stepping into a familiar dream. Everything around me turns soft and light and comforting. It wraps around me like my mother’s arms, and for the first time in a decade, I feel safe. I feel in control. I need it more than I need to breathe. With just an ounce of power, just a touch of fire, I could maybe hold my own in this nightmare. And if I truly am descended from Houzzah, how can calling on his power be considered sacrilege? But I asked my mother the same question once, and I still remember her answer.
“A Guardian must dedicate themselves to their god above all else, but being queen means dedicating yourself to your country above else. You cannot do both. You can love the gods, you can love me, you can love whomever you wish to love in this world, but Astrea will always come first. Everyone and everything else gets only the leftover scraps. That was Houzzah’s gift to our family, but also his curse.”
I know that she was right, even as I wish she weren’t. It would be so much easier if I could call fire to my fingertips the way Ampelio could, but how would I be any different from my enemies then? I’m as untrained as any Kalovaxian, and most days I don’t give the gods a second thought. I only pray to them when I need something. If I were to set foot in the mines and try to seek their favor, try to train to wield a Spiritgem, the gods would surely strike me down.
Seeing the Kalovaxians wield power that they didn’t earn, that they didn’t sacrifice for, has always made me sick to my stomach. I will not go against my gods and risk their wrath. Besides, I am too much like the Kalovaxians already. This is the line I will not cross.
S?REN SET UP THE ROYAL family’s private terrace for our lunch and spared no luxury in his effort. The table is carved from solid marble and so heavy that I’m sure it took a small army—and a fair share of Earth Gems—to drag it out here from the formal dining room where it normally resides. On the table is a painted vase filled with fresh-cut marigolds at peak bloom and four gold place settings. All of it belonged to my mother once, and if I try hard enough, I can see her sitting there, across from me, sipping spiced honey coffee and talking about silly things like the weather and my lessons, blissfully unaware of the battalions closing in around us.
The sun is high in the sky when Cress and I step out onto the pavilion, and it streams through the red silk awning, casting the space in a garish light, but the view from here is breathtaking—all rolling ocean and cloudless sky and a few ships so small they’re the size of my pinky nail.
So much distance, I think. In ten years, I’ve never gone farther from the palace than the harbor. It’s easy to forget how big the world really is, but from here I can see miles and miles of ocean in three directions.
One day soon, I’ll be free again.
Prinz S?ren and Erik stand up when Cress and I approach, both of them dressed in traditional Kalovaxian suits. I wasn’t expecting Erik, but I’m glad to see him. He treated me like a person, which is more than I can say about most Kalovaxians. It’s difficult to say whether Erik or S?ren looks more uncomfortable in the layers of silk and velvet, though I suppose it must be Erik. At least S?ren’s suit was made to fit him. Erik’s is clearly secondhand, too tight in some places, too loose in others.
“Ladies,” S?ren says, bowing as we curtsy. “I’m glad you could join us. You remember Erik. From the ship?”
“Of course,” I say. I don’t have to look at Cress to see the blank expression on her face. She only had eyes for the Prinz that day. I doubt she could have picked Erik out from a crowd if she’d been asked to.
“It’s good to see you again, Erik,” I add with a smile.
His quick blue eyes dart between Cress and me in amusement. “You as well, Lady Thora. You both look lovely, of course,” he says, pulling my chair out for me. When he goes to push me in, he drops his voice low so that only I can hear it. “Did you lose a bet of some kind?”
I stifle a grimace. “Crescentia was kind enough to lend me her dress.”
“Yes,” he says, barely holding back laughter. “Very kind.”
“And let me guess,” I say wryly, glancing at Cress, who’s already drawn S?ren deep into a conversation about a letter she received from her father. “Our Prinz was kind enough to invite you to enjoy a good meal before you set off to Vecturia?”
He lifts a dark eyebrow and drops his voice as well. “I was mistaken, Thora. It’s only trade-route issues. Far less interesting.”
He’s as bad a liar as S?ren, unable to look at me when he does it.
I fake a laugh. “Trade routes, Vecturia. To me, one is as interesting as the other. I don’t even know where Vecturia is,” I lie.
He smiles, relieved. “I won’t lie to you, Thora. I’ve got a month or so of hardtack and watered-down ale to look forward to. S?ren offered me a good last meal as a distraction today, and I couldn’t take him up on it quick enough.”
He glances pointedly to the other end of the table, where Crescentia and S?ren are in conversation about the Theyn, though S?ren’s eyes keep darting about like he’s searching for an escape. They meet mine briefly before slipping away again.
I turn back to Erik, raising an eyebrow. “They make a sweet couple, don’t they?”
“I don’t think sweet is the word S?ren would use,” Erik says, lowering his voice to a whisper. “The Kaiser has been pushing the match since S?ren got back.”
S?ren clears his throat loudly across the table, shooting Erik a pleading glance. “Erik actually got his start with me under your father’s command as well,” he tells Cress. “Isn’t that right, Erik?”
“Duty calls,” Erik murmurs to me before leaning toward Cress.
“That’s true, Lady Crescentia. I was twelve at the time. It felt like I was meeting a god,” he says. “In fact, would you do me the honor of taking a walk around the pavilion while we wait for food to arrive? I can tell you stories about him you’d find quite amusing.”
Cress frowns, eyes narrow. She’s about to refuse with some excuse or other, but S?ren cuts her off.
“Erik is the most gifted storyteller, Lady Crescentia,” he says. “I think you would enjoy walking with him for a moment.”
Crescentia’s nostrils narrow—the only outward sign of her displeasure, and one that likely went unnoticed by S?ren and Erik. With a gracious smile, she rises and takes Erik’s proffered arm, allowing him to escort her to the edge of the pavilion, casting a wary glance at me over her shoulder.
S?ren reaches for the crystal wine decanter and moves his chair a few inches closer to mine as he pours me a glass, the liquid as red as fresh blood. He doesn’t look at me, instead focusing on the task at hand and taking his time with it. A lock of golden hair falls into his eyes, but he makes no move to push it aside.