When I mention her to S?ren, he nods. “A cousin, I believe,” he says, though I think we’re pressing his area of expertise. Battle strategies and diplomacy he might know, but the tangled web of the Kalovaxian court is beyond him. “Lady Ovelgan was considered a great beauty—there was actually a rumor about her being one of my father’s consorts for a time. Hard to believe there wasn’t some credibility to it, knowing him.”

He says the words casually enough, but they sour my stomach. “It’s no wonder Lord Ovelgan was hasty to get her away from court when an opportunity arrived.”

“If we’re lucky, they’ll still hold animosity toward the royal family for that,” Artemisia says.

I shake my head. “Or they’ll be far more likely to be sympathetic toward the Kaiserin,” I point out.

S?ren catches my eye. “Do you think Cress has already gotten to Lady Ovelgan? Offered her the Encatrio? Killed her or changed her?”

The same thought occurred to me, but I shake my head. “Cress has grown up in the court; she’s never left it for more than a few days. I doubt she’s thinking about anyone outside. It’s practically another world to her.”

“The Kaiserin,” Art corrects me sharply, glancing back at both of us. “Not Cress. The Kaiserin.”

“I know, I know,” I say with a sigh, even though she’s right. Even if there is no one around to judge me for my familiarity, the distinction does help to keep them separate in my mind, but they never manage to stay that way for long. I look at S?ren again. “What about the staff? How many people are on this estate? Are they Kalovaxian servants or Astrean slaves?” I ask him.

“Maybe three-quarters slaves, one-quarter servants,” he says. “Plus, there’s a Kalovaxian village just outside the estate.”

A Kalovaxian village. It’s a strange thought—I’m so used to Kalovaxian courtiers, the wealthy and privileged, that I often forget that they can only be wealthy and privileged if there are others who are beneath them. But the villagers are still Kalovaxian, I remind myself. Poor as they may be, they’re still far more privileged than my people in their chains.

“How many of each, if you had to guess?” I press.

He exhales slowly, considering. “Maybe a couple hundred slaves working the estate. Maybe fifty, seventy-five servants. Plus a thousand in the village,” he says. “If I had to guess, but I haven’t been there in years. I really have no idea what to expect.”

Artemisia grunts. “So we can fight them if we need to,” she says, a surprise burst of optimism from her. “The numbers are on our side, and most of them won’t be trained warriors, like most Kalovaxians we’ve fought.”

“But as soon as that fight breaks out, they’ll send word to the Kaiserin,” I point out. “And then she’ll know where we’re headed. We’ll have shown our hand, and the element of surprise is the only thing we have on our side.”

“And if they send a messenger as soon as they spot us?” Art asks. “We should send our fastest group around to block off the other side in case they send someone.”

I nod. “Yes, let’s do that. And then we should only have a small envoy meet the Ovelgans,” I add. “Not so many as to seem aggressive, but enough that we can hold our own if we need to.”

“A group of twenty,” S?ren suggests. “And the others should stay close enough to pose a threat in case they think about striking out.”

“The three of us,” I say, counting off on my fingers—a struggle while sitting on top of a jostling horse. “Maile will likely insist on coming with us. Plus Erik. He has the status to be impressive to them, royal and also half-Kalovaxian. And his eye is an example of Cress’s deranged cruelty. The other fifteen should be Fire and Water Guardians, though the Ovelgans don’t need to know that. They’ll be there and ready if we need them, but hopefully we won’t.”

“And Blaise?” Artemisia asks with a dose of hesitation. “Will we be needing him?”

I shake my head, feeling S?ren’s eyes on me as well. “I don’t think Blaise will have any interest in that,” I say. “He doesn’t want to use his power anymore. We came to an agreement about it.”

That surprises Artemisia. She looks at me over her shoulder with eyebrows arched high. “He said that?” she asks.

“He did,” I say. “What happened at the Water Mine changed things for him. He doesn’t want to risk that again.”

Artemisia turns back around, looking at the forest ahead. “He says that,” she says. “Maybe he even thinks he means it, but words are one thing. Actions are another. And Blaise isn’t the sort of person to sit contentedly on the sidelines.”

“You’re wrong,” I say, though her words wedge under my skin. “You didn’t see him when we talked about it. He was set on this path.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I hope you’re right, Theo. But only time will tell for sure.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I hold my tongue. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, I tell myself, but there’s a small voice in my head that whispers that she’s only giving voice to thoughts I’ve had myself.

“S?ren, pass along our plan to the others ahead,” I say. “Get volunteer Guardians to round up our envoy. Artemisia, is there a stream nearby? I should clean up before we get there, and change into something more regal. If these people want a queen, I’ll give them one.”

Artemisia finds a stream nearby to clean up at, Heron tagging along. While I splash cool water onto my face and run my fingers through my hair to loosen the knots and mats that have formed, Heron pulls an emerald-green silk dress from my saddlebags. We found it in one of the barracks at the Water Mine, though no one was sure where it had come from. It was too big in some areas, too small in others, but Heron tailored it to fit me.

I pull the dress on and let Artemisia braid my hair again, this time twisting it into a bun on top of my head—a simple style, but one that looks regal.

“There,” she says when it’s done.

I glance at my reflection in the stream and can’t help but frown. The girl staring back doesn’t look like me—her face is sharper, eyes harder, jaw stronger. I used to think I looked like my mother, but there is precious little of her left in me now, though it isn’t quite Ampelio’s face, either. Instead I think I merely look like myself.

THE OVELGAN ESTATE RISES INTO view as soon as we’re out of the forest, a tall structure that shines gold in the light of the morning sun. Because of the name, I was expecting something characteristically Kalovaxian, something gray and sharp-edged and daunting, but the design of it is unmistakably Astrean, with the same rounded towers and stained-glass windows and domed roofs as the palace. I wonder what it was before the siege, and I look around for Blaise because if anyone would know, he would, but I can’t find him in the crowd.

“Who are you looking for?” Heron asks, riding up beside me and Artemisia.

“Blaise,” I say. “I wanted to ask if he knew what the estate was before.”

“He rode ahead with a group to the far side of the village to cut off any messengers they might send out. Just in case S?ren’s hunch about the Ovelgans hearing us out first was wrong,” Heron explains, glancing at the estate with a furrowed brow. “But I can answer that for you—it was the Talvera estate.”

I glance sideways at him. “How do you know that?”

He doesn’t answer right away, instead shrugging his shoulders. “Because it was Leonidas’s—his family’s, at least. He was supposed to be the future Lord Talvera.”

“Oh,” I say, suddenly speechless. Leonidas was the boy Heron knew in the mines, the boy Heron loved and lost to mine madness. “You didn’t say anything when we were making the plan.”

He shrugs again, his eyes focused straight ahead. “What was there to tell? I had nothing to contribute to the discussion—I’ve never been, know nothing of the layout. All I know of it is what he told me. He painted such a lovely picture of it when everything else seemed so impossibly dark and ugly. He told me about how he used to run down the tiled halls, how the mosaics shone like gold in the noon sun, how it was the most beautiful place in the world. He told me someday we would live there together, when this was all over.”

He swallows and turns his face away, but there’s no hiding the catch in his voice.

“And the rest of his family?” I ask. “You said there was no one left. No one with a proper claim to it?”

He shakes his head. “Leo was the last one.”

I consider this for a moment before coming to a decision. “Then if we make it through this, it’s yours,” I say. “If you want it.”

That takes him by surprise. “Mine?”

I shrug. “He made you a promise,” I say. “He might not be able to see it through himself, but there’s no reason it shouldn’t hold. Besides, it looks like a place you would be happy in. Peaceful, away from the capital, close to the Air Mine—what will be the Air Temple once it’s rebuilt. You could oversee that, if you want to.”

For a moment, Heron stares at me, mouth gaping. Finally, he smiles. “I think I would. Want that, I mean. It’s a very grand house, though, Theo,” he says, glancing back at the estate.

“You’re a very grand man,” I reply.