I snort. “No, it’s not,” I tell him, taking a long gulp of my non-drugged tea.
“But you aren’t alone anymore. You don’t have to pretend to be anything you aren’t,” he says, coming to sit back down on the edge of the cot. “That’s something.”
I nod even though I’m not sure he’s right. Queen Theodosia feels almost as much of a charade as Lady Thora was, and it’s a much trickier role to fill. No one expected anything from Thora, but people will expect miracles from their queen. I force myself to finish the tea and watch warily as he does the same.
Already his eyelids begin to grow heavy, but he fights it. “Are you all right?” he asks.
I can’t help but laugh. “Everyone keeps asking me that—you, Heron, even Art—and I keep saying I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine. But I’m not.”
“I know,” he says, frowning. His eyes are growing unfocused now, slipping over mine. He tries to blink away the sleep. “I don’t think any of us are.”
“I don’t think we ever will be,” I admit.
Blaise is quiet for a moment. He sags back against the pillows. “When Ampelio rescued me from the mines, I told him we should run. That you seemed to be perfectly fine being kept in the castle.” He glances at me to see my reaction. “It’s what everyone said; it’s the impression the Kaiser was careful to give, unless he was having you punished. He wanted us to believe that you were happy to go along with his rule so that all of us would stay in line as well. But Ampelio never doubted you.”
I swallow, trying not to think about the last time I saw Ampelio alive, the second before I plunged that sword through his back.
“Did he ever say anything to you about…Did he see me as his queen or…”
Blaise knows what I’m asking.
“He was careful to only ever speak of you as his queen,” he tells me, but before my heart can sink too low, he continues. “After Ampelio rescued me from the mine a few years ago, we came to the capital. We were so close to infiltrating the castle and rescuing you, but it fell through, and Ampelio didn’t want to risk your safety for anything less than a sure thing. But it was…” He swallows. “Dragonsbane had just sunk a cargo ship with thousands of gems, set for the North.”
I stiffen, knowing the incident he’s referring to. Dragonsbane sank a ship and I paid the price, as I always did. I was twelve or thirteen at the time, but I still have the scars from that punishment.
“We watched,” he tells me. “Ampelio insisted. He said we had to see it, to know what we were fighting for. But I had to hold him back that day, and I almost couldn’t do it. That fury, that desperation…it wasn’t a subject wanting to protect his queen. It was a father trying to protect his daughter.”
I swallow, feeling tears burn behind my eyes. I close them tight, trying to keep the tears at bay, and squeeze Blaise’s hand.
“Thank you.”
He squeezes my hand back, but neither of us pulls away. The question that’s been weighing on my mind since I saw Cress bubbles up.
“What is Encatrio made of?” I ask. I think about the cell bars, scalding hot after Cress touched them. I think I might already know part of the answer, but I need to hear him say it.
He frowns. “Water, mostly,” he says. “It isn’t what it’s made out of that makes it deadly, it’s where the water comes from.”
“The Fire Mine,” I guess.
He nods. “There’s a stream deep in the mine, almost impossible to find. As far as I know, the Kalovaxians have never found it, though they don’t go in the mines for more than a few minutes a day to avoid the mine madness, so they’ve never explored much. Why do you ask?”
“You know Cress survived it,” I say slowly. “But it…changed her.”
“I saw,” he says.
I shake my head. “Not just like that.”
I tell him about the cell bars, how her touch had turned them hot.
“In theory, it’s possible,” he says after a moment. “The magic in the mines affects the water the same way it affects the gems, the same way it affects a person’s blood. It kills most people, but…”
“But not everyone,” I finish. “I never heard of Encatrio blessing anyone, though.”
He yawns again, trying to shake the exhaustion from himself before slouching down further in the bed.
“No, but we were children and that was hardly the sort of thing anyone would have told us. And it wouldn’t have happened often; the victim would have needed not just to be blessed by the gods, but by Houzzah in particular.”
My stomach twists. “How could Houzzah have blessed a Kalovaxian?” I ask Blaise quietly. “How could he have blessed her?”
He doesn’t answer. I turn to look at him to see that his eyes are closed and his face is slack. Asleep, he looks like a different person entirely. Giving him the drugged tea was wrong, I think, but I don’t regret it. I keep hold of his hand in the dark. I hold it tight in my own until it doesn’t feel so hot. Until it feels the same as mine.
* * *
—
Crescentia haunts my dreams. In them we are children again, playing in the underground pools and pretending to be sirens. Our laughter echoes through the cavern as we splash and dive while her nanny watches from far away. I arc down, keeping my legs together so they look like a tail. When I breach the surface again and open my eyes, the scene has changed.
Now I’m standing on the raised platform at the center of the capital square, and around me everyone jeers—Kalovaxians and Astreans alike. They are all shouting for my death, begging for it. Even S?ren. Even Blaise. Behind me, I hear a sword being pulled from its sheath, and I turn, expecting the Kaiser or the Theyn. But it’s Cress, holding her father’s sword in her hands.
Like the last time I saw her, her neck is black and flaking, skin pale gray, hair charred white. My mother’s crown gleams black on top of her head. She stares at me with such hate in her eyes, even as her mouth curves into a smile. Hands shove me to my knees and she comes closer, her steps dainty as ever.
She crouches down next to me and touches my shoulder gently, drawing my gaze to hers.
“You’re my heart’s sister, little lamb,” she says, smiling wider. Her teeth have turned to sharp points.
She kisses my cheek like she has so many times before, but this time the print left behind is warm and sticky like blood. She stands back up, drawing the sword over her head and bringing it arcing down toward me, whistling through the air.
Time slows enough for me to realize that even now, I don’t hate her. I pity her, I fear her, but I also love her.
I close my eyes and wait for the blade to find its mark.
* * *
—
I wake up in a cold sweat. The weight of the last day is heavy on my shoulders, but it’s almost welcome. It’s a reminder that I am alive, that I have survived to see another day—even if it is also a reminder of those who didn’t. Elpis. Olaric. Hylla. Santino. I say a silent prayer to the gods that they are greeted warmly in the After, like the heroes they are.
Next to me, Blaise shifts in his sleep, brow furrowing deeply. His head jerks to one side and he lets out a whimper that clenches around my heart. Even asleep, he is not at peace.
I roll onto my side to face him and place my hand on his chest, fingers spread. He’s gained weight over the last few weeks in the palace, but I can still feel the hard line of his sternum through cloth and flesh. He continues to thrash for a moment, but I keep my hand steady until he calms and the tension smooths from his expression. Once more, he looks like the boy I knew in a different lifetime, before the world made ruins of us.
So many people I loved have been wrenched from my grasp. I have watched as the life left their eyes. I have mourned them and I have envied them and I have missed them every moment.
I will not lose Blaise, too.