King Etristo throws his hands in the air as if he’s being attacked. “I apologize if you take offense to my question,” he says, which doesn’t sound like much of an apology at all. “But you understand that I must ask it before we continue on our road to finding you a husband. Most men of high birth would never take a sullied woman for a wife.”

I frown, unsure where to begin with that sort of logic. I decide to call out the worst of it. “I would be considered sullied even if it had been rape?”

King Etristo smiles tightly and shrugs his shoulders. “It is how it is,” he says. “Men marry women who are chaste, and take women who aren’t as mistresses. Surely this is not surprising to you—they have the same customs at the Kalovaxian court, as I understand it.”

“Yes,” I admit. “But surely you didn’t take anything I’ve said to be a commendation of their behavior?”

At that, King Etristo’s face reddens. “There’s no need to take offense, my dear,” he says. “If what you say is true, you have nothing to fear. After all, my own wives—both departed and still with us—underwent an examination before we were married to ensure their virtue. My daughters did it before their weddings. Amiza did as well, isn’t that right?” he asks.

“It is tradition,” Amiza says, but she doesn’t look at me. Instead, she keeps her eyes on her plate.

“The examination is a simple thing, easy to endure,” King Etristo says, waving a dismissive hand.

I force a saccharine smile. “You’ve undergone it yourself, Your Highness?” I ask. “That makes sense. If highborn men should only marry chaste women, then surely highborn women should only marry chaste men.”

“Theodosia,” Dragonsbane hisses at me, her face sharp and drawn tight.

I’m tempted to point out her own hypocrisy in taking his side. After all, she can hardly claim to be a virgin, having had two children. But I hold my tongue and smile innocently at King Etristo.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” I tell him, fluttering my eyelashes. “It’s just such a strange custom for such a civilized world. There’s a reason you can’t find the word virginity in Astrean. The concept doesn’t exist.”

The table is quiet for a moment. “Well, this is not Astrea,” King Etristo says. “The suitors will begin to arrive tomorrow, so it would be our hope that you will have the examination before meeting them.”

I don’t know what that examination entails, but I don’t need to. Even though whatever it is will prove that I haven’t been touched in that way, I shouldn’t have to prove it. It shouldn’t matter. I know that I’m supposed to be sweet and pliable and unassuming in order to keep the Sta’Criverans’ favor, but this is a line I will not cross, not even for Astrea.

“Unless the men will be going through similar examinations before they meet me, I will not,” I say. “Marrying me will bring these men untold riches when we take back Astrea. If they want to forfeit that wealth because they’re too preoccupied with tradition, they are welcome to. I’m sure there will be plenty who would rather have the money.”

DRAGONSBANE MANAGES TO HOLD HER tongue for the rest of the quiet, tense dinner and even during the riser ride back to our floor. Her mouth stays tightly pursed the entire time, eyes hard and staring straight ahead. Once we’re in the hallway, though, and it’s only her, S?ren, and me, she grabs hold of my arm and spins me to face her, fingernails digging into the soft skin of the underside of my arm.

“Tomorrow, you will apologize to King Etristo and consent to whatever examinations they feel necessary.”

S?ren steps between us.

“If you don’t remove your hand,” he tells her in Kalovaxian, his voice low, “I’ll do it for you, and it’ll be an unpleasant experience for both of us, but certainly more painful for you.”

Dragonsbane clenches her jaw and stares at him for a moment, as if debating whether or not his honor will actually let him hurt a woman. Wisely, she decides not to take the risk and releases my arm.

“You will apologize for your outburst,” she says again, not taking her eyes off me.

“Of course, Aunt,” I say finally, pitching my voice higher and softer. “I’m sure King Etristo will understand how alarmed I was at the thought of having my person prodded at again after all the abuse I suffered at the hands of the Kaiser. And I’m sure he will agree that it would be best to wait at least until I’ve recovered more. If the husband I choose insists upon an examination, I will comply before my wedding.”

She looks at me with narrowed eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” she says.

It takes effort to hold back a laugh. “I’ve played worse.”

* * *

—

Blaise, Heron, and Artemisia are already waiting in my room. I suppose I should have expected that—of course they’ll want to know about the dinner. Of course I’ll have to tell them, mortified as the thought makes me.

But first I need to get out of this torture device of a dress.

“A little help, please, Art,” I say, grabbing a nightgown from the armoire and stepping behind the painted trifold screen. “And you might want to bring your dagger.”

Artemisia cuts me out of the gown that the seamstress sewed me into, though she does it with less grace, sending glass beads spilling across the floor, the sound like a hollow rainstorm.

I pull the nightgown over my head, savoring a few deep breaths. Though I was only wearing the gown a few hours, I forgot how nice it feels to take air fully into my lungs instead of little gasps here and there. Maybe that’s why Amiza and Lilia were so quiet at dinner—they couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.

“All right,” I say, stepping back around the screen. I’m aware of how ridiculous I must look now, with my loose cotton nightgown and my face fully painted and lacquered, but there are more pressing matters. I join the others in the seating area, taking the open chair next to Blaise. “We’re going to have to speak in Kalovaxian for S?ren’s sake. Is everyone all right with that?”

The others groan but ultimately agree. I can’t blame them—speaking Kalovaxian makes me feel like I’m back in the Kaiser’s court.

“We need to keep teaching you Astrean, though. It’ll save us a lot of time, to say the least,” I tell S?ren.

He nods. “I feel like an ass, but I’m picking up bits and pieces, I think. Slowly.”

“What happened tonight?” Blaise asks me in Kalovaxian. “We tried to go with you but we weren’t allowed.”

“The Sta’Criverans value their exclusivity,” S?ren says. “I was surprised they invited me, though I suppose they found it amusing since I didn’t understand a word they said.”

I tell them about the royal family and their interest in the Kaiser’s treatment of me, how they seemed not just fascinated but enthralled with the details of my captivity and punishments.

“It’s as if they don’t see me as a person, just a rare collectible with a story attached to it,” I grumble.

“Sta’Criverans in the capital tend to lead charmed, soft lives,” S?ren says. “Especially the royal family. I imagine they draw some excitement over your misery because they can’t quite fathom it to be real. It’s like you’re a character in a play.”

I frown, but before I can respond, he continues.

“What was the argument at the end?” he asks, though he looks uneasy. “I understood bits and pieces but…well, it seemed important.”

Part of me doesn’t want to answer—especially since I’ll have to explain to Blaise, Heron, and Artemisia what virginity even means—but S?ren’s right. It is important. The argument isn’t over yet and I can’t keep secrets from them again.

So I explain the conflict as simply as I can, though I feel my cheeks redden as I do. It takes all I have in me not to shudder when I tell them about the King’s proposed examination. Though he didn’t detail the specifics, they’re easy enough to surmise.

“It is common practice,” S?ren says when I finish, looking a bit green. “You were right to refuse, though.”

Artemisia nods, but there’s a crease between her eyebrows. “It will make it all the more meaningful when you finally consent.”

I stare at her, my mouth gaping open. “I’m not consenting to that,” I say. “I thought you of all people would understand—” I break off. Artemisia told me about her assault in the mines in confidence, though Heron was there, too. I doubt she wants that to be common knowledge. “You’re a woman as well,” I say instead. “Would you let them examine you like some sort of experiment?”

“No,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “But then, I don’t want to get married.”

“Neither do I!” I exclaim, louder than I mean to.

Artemisia remains unfazed by my outburst, merely arching her eyebrows.

“Fine. I don’t need to get married in order to use another country’s army to reclaim my throne. Is that better?” she asks.

I roll my eyes but can’t bring myself to answer. “It’s another problem for another day,” I say instead.

“There are getting to be a few of those building up,” Heron says, his voice quiet and unsteady around the Kalovaxian words he’s probably heard more often than spoken.