Dragonsbane hesitates, eyes darting around to the watching crowd. “Make it quick,” she says in Kalovaxian before switching to Astrean. “It’ll all end the same anyway.”

The Astrean crew members laugh. Though S?ren can’t decipher what exactly she said, he understands enough. He takes a deep breath before looking around at the Kalovaxian men on their knees. It takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s searching for a familiar face. It takes a few more before he finds one.

S?ren crouches in front of a man in his early twenties with blond hair long enough to brush his collarbones. The man looks up at him with angry, bright green eyes. His arms are twisted behind him, bound by fraying rope, and an Astrean man I don’t recognize stands over him, a knife at the man’s neck.

“Mattin,” S?ren says, his voice low and soft. I suppose he’s trying to sound soothing, but the man is far from soothed. “Help me help you, Mattin.”

Mattin stays quiet, his eyes fixed on the deck at S?ren’s feet.

“Do you want to see your wife again?” S?ren asks, his voice sharpening. “Your daughter—how old is she now? Four?”

That gets Mattin’s attention and he finally looks up at S?ren, expression wavering, but still he says nothing.

S?ren pushes himself to his feet. “Fine. There are others,” he says, starting to turn away from Mattin, though he does so slowly.

“Wait,” Mattin says feebly after a few seconds. “I’ll talk to you. If you’ll let me live, I’ll talk to you.”

S?ren’s eyes dart to me for a brief second, a flash of uncertainty there, before he turns back to Mattin and nods.

The other Kalovaxians erupt in jeers, calling Mattin a traitor and far less savory words I only half understand. But not all of them, I notice. There are some who are staring quietly at the ground, thoughtful.

MATTIN IS MORE DIFFICULT TO get information from than S?ren anticipated, and with each moment that passes, I can feel his frustration grow. My own patience is wearing thin, and Dragonsbane doesn’t even bother trying to mask her irritation as she paces the deck in front of him. A few of the crew members who were willing to talk were taken belowdecks, so that the information they provided could be corroborated, but many Kalovaxian men are still here, kneeling before their Astrean captors with the blades of knives pressing against their necks.

“Has the Kaiser’s search party already returned to Astrea?” S?ren asks for what must be the fifth time.

Again, Mattin shrugs as much as he can with his wrists bound tight behind his back. Though he volunteered, the jeers of his shipmates are giving him second thoughts.

The Astrean man who was guarding Mattin—whose name I’ve learned is Pavlos—digs the edge of his blade a little harder into Mattin’s neck, making him flinch.

“I’m saying that I wasn’t privy to the Kaiser’s plans regarding the heathen Ash Princess and the kidnapped Prinz,” Mattin says, his tone flat. Though it isn’t any kind of answer, some of the Kalovaxians still shout insults at him, ignoring their Astrean captors who try to quiet them.

Dragonsbane’s lips curl and for an instant I expect her to pounce on him, but instead she looks at the man through narrow eyes like he’s an equation she can’t figure out how to solve. She motions to one of her crew members, who drags his dagger across a jeering Kalovaxian’s neck without hesitation. Blood flows from the wound and the body falls to the ground with a thunk. There isn’t even time for him to scream, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out in surprise. For his part, S?ren doesn’t even blink. He doesn’t take his eyes off Mattin.

After a moment, Dragonsbane’s gaze shifts to S?ren.

“You’re proving quite a useless interrogator, Prinz S?ren,” she says in Kalovaxian, drawing out each word so that everyone gathered can hear it.

S?ren shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak before quickly closing it again.

“Not useless,” I say, stepping forward. “He’s not answering the question you asked, but he’s said an awful lot.”

Dragonsbane tilts her head. “I’m not sure what you’re hearing—”

“The heathen Ash Princess and the kidnapped Prinz,” I repeat. “That’s the story that’s being told. But you aren’t a prisoner, are you, S?ren? You wear no chains, you’re free to roam. You’re on our side willingly.”

S?ren meets my gaze, his eyes sparking with understanding.

“I wasn’t kidnapped, Mattin,” he lies, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. Mattin shrugs him off.

“Then the whore must have tricked you—used her heathen magic to put a spell on you,” he bites out, loud enough that everyone watching can hear. “The Prinz I served with would never betray his brothers otherwise.”

Whispers break out across the deck, but it takes a moment for me to realize that he’s talking about me. S?ren winces at the word whore, but I don’t know whether to laugh or retort. Neither would help. Nothing I say will sway Mattin into believing S?ren is trustworthy enough to talk to. There’s nothing Dragonsbane can do either, short of torture—though I’m not sure he would fold even then. No, S?ren is the only one who can break him, so I keep quiet and let him do it.

“There was no magic,” S?ren says. “Only truth that I was too frightened to see before. Truth that I think you know as well: my father is a coward and a tyrant.”

For a long moment, Mattin is silent. “The Kaiser has expanded our reach during his reign and opened more trade,” he says finally.

“No, Mattin,” S?ren says, glancing at the crowd gathered and amplifying his words so all can hear. “My father has sat on a throne and grown lazy. He is content with feasting and being worshipped like a god. But what sort of god sends his men off to fight a battle he’s too frightened to fight himself? He hasn’t gone to war in more than two decades because he thinks his own life is more precious than yours, but I don’t think that’s true. Your wife and daughter would disagree as well.”

Mattin straightens up before turning his head to glower at S?ren. “Do you think you would be any better? How, when you put an Astrean whore above your own people?”

Before I can feel the sting of that word again, S?ren’s fist collides with the side of Mattin’s face and he doubles over, blood dripping from his mouth. S?ren grabs his bound wrists and yanks him upright again, turning him to face me.

“You’ll apologize,” he says, pulling Mattin’s arms until they are nearly yanked out of their sockets. Mattin winces. When he meets my eyes, there is little more than hate there.

“No,” Mattin spits out.

S?ren clenches his jaw and yanks the man’s arms until he cries out. “Her name is Queen Theodosia, and if you won’t apologize for disrespecting her, I’ll let her men have you and I’ll describe your last moments to your wife so that she knows how pathetically you died.”

Mattin grunts, eyes dropping away. “I apologize,” he says through gritted teeth.

S?ren looks tempted to extract something more sincere out of him, but that would hardly be productive. I clear my throat.

“I accept your apology,” I say coldly. “I hope you come to see that a woman can wield power beyond what’s between her legs—for your daughter’s sake if nothing else.”

He flinches before S?ren forcefully turns him back to face him.

“I’m trying to help you, Mattin,” S?ren says. “When I was on board the Pride, you had more grievances with the Kaiser than anyone. He raised taxes and your parents had to scramble to work harder on the farm to pay them. Your father worked himself to death, you said, because his five sons were all called to fight the Kaiser’s wars. When you received word that your daughter was born, you told me you were glad it wasn’t a boy so that he wouldn’t…what were your words? ‘Die for an old man’s selfishness’?”

Mattin doesn’t reply at first but I can see him waver. “You wouldn’t be any better,” he says finally.

S?ren glances at me before looking back at him. “I never had any desire to be Kaiser—I was always open about that, even back when we crewed together. I wanted a ship and the sea around me and nothing else—I still do want that. If I had my way, I would never go back to court, but I’ve led men who died for my father’s selfishness—just like your brothers have, just like your father did. The Kaiser will never be satisfied until the entire world is scorched earth. Or until someone stops him.”

“So you’re joining them?” Mattin asks, looking at Dragonsbane, Pavlos, and me. “They would see every Kalovaxian put to death.”

At that, S?ren hesitates, his eyes meeting mine. He can’t lie, I realize. So I do.

“We want Astrea back,” I say. “That’s all. We are joining our forces to remove the Kaiser, and in exchange for our help, S?ren has promised to take his people away from our home.”

I half expect Dragonsbane—or any of the other Astreans gathered—to laugh or contradict me, but everyone remains mercifully silent. S?ren nods.