“It is,” she agrees. “But people will believe anything if it makes them think they have more control than they do in this world. Pass me a bit more straw and then we’re done and you can go back to your legion of devotees.”

I pass her another handful of straw before turning back to the children. I have nothing more to give them but they don’t seem to care. Their fingers reach out to tug at the material of Heron’s cloak or my hands, anything they can reach to get my attention. I laugh, turning from one to another and another and another. I can’t understand most of what they say, but it doesn’t matter. They just want to be heard and I’m happy to listen.

“It’s a shame they’re too young to wield weapons,” Artemisia says before leaping down from the roof, landing lightly next to me. “A few more years and they’d make for the start of a fierce and devoted army.”

I know she means well, but the words still gnaw at me. The idea that these children would grow up to fight battles, to feel the blood of others on their skin, to know the bite of a sword—I don’t want that for them. Not in service of me or anyone else.

THE RIDE BACK TO THE city is quiet, but it isn’t the uncomfortable kind of silence. I think we’re all too fatigued and hungry to talk much, but aside from that, I know my thoughts are still back in the refugee camp and I’m sure the others feel the same. Even S?ren’s face is drawn and pale, though part of me wants to slap him. He can’t be horrified by the way the Sta’Criverans have been treating those people when it’s the Kalovaxians’ fault that they had to seek refuge in the first place.

It isn’t S?ren’s fault, I know that, but it’s an easy distinction to overlook sometimes.

When we get back to the city, we return the horses to the stables and slip through the busy streets as quietly as we can. The sun is starting to sink in the sky now—we stayed out longer than we meant to—and I pray to all the gods that might have followed us across the Calodean Sea that our absence has gone unnoticed.

And if it hasn’t?

I would like nothing better than to tell King Etristo exactly where I have been and how vile I think he is for the way he treats the refugees who came to his land seeking safety. I want to tell him that I think he’s a monster and that if he doesn’t send them food and clean water immediately I will leave, marriage be damned. But even as I think it, I know that’s something I cannot do. Loath as I am to admit it, I need his help to save Astrea, to give those people a place to go home to.

But the second I am on Astrea’s throne again, I will make sure he knows exactly what I think of him.

It isn’t until we’re in the riser on the way up to our floor that Heron breaks the silence.

“I can steal food over the next few days if I use my gift,” he whispers, casting a wary glance at the riser operator, who doesn’t seem to be listening to us. “Gather up more bit by bit than I could all at once. Then we’ll go back. Or, I will. You don’t have to—”

“I’m going,” I say. “If anyone wants to stay behind, you’re welcome to, but after what we saw today I can’t imagine that will be the case.”

The others say nothing and I take that for assent.

* * *

—

When I slip inside my room, I think for one blissful second that my absence went unnoticed. Everything looks exactly as I left it—the bed rumpled, my nightgown pooled on the floor, the wardrobe door open. But Marial is so still perched in the chair by the fireplace that I don’t notice her until she stands.

“You foolish girl,” she says, her voice low and her expression furious.

I take a step back toward the door but there isn’t anywhere to go. This isn’t something I can run from.

“I felt better,” I tell her instead. “I thought a walk would do me good.”

She levels a look of disbelief at me, one perfectly arched eyebrow rising. “A walk?” she says dryly. “I suppose that’s why you smell like a gutter and are covered head to toe in dirt?”

I can’t think of an answer for that quickly enough.

“After how well we’ve treated you, all the fine things we’ve given you, you decide to repay it by lying and going behind the King’s back?” she asks, her voice low and dangerous.

Something in me snaps, and before I can stop them, words force their way past my lips.

“I don’t care about your fine things. I’m grateful for the kindness the King has shown me in allowing me to stay, but I am here for my people—the ones in chains in Astrea and the ones being starved and caged in what you have the nerve to call a refugee camp. Refuge means safety, and what I saw today can hardly be called that.”

It isn’t until Marial recoils from my words that I realize I’ve said too much. “You went to the camp?” she asks quietly, her voice wavering. Though she’s always seemed so fearsome, for the first time she looks afraid.

I want to deny it, but there’s no way I can now. I kick myself for letting that slip. “I asked the King to bring me there,” I tell her, deciding that if I can’t take the words back, I might as well commit to them. “He refused. He said it was no place for a girl like me and he was right. It’s no place for anyone.”

Marial shakes her head. “They’re cursed,” she says. “We’ve taken pity enough on them, but we won’t put ourselves at risk for strangers. Now you bring their filth and bad luck with you.”

She says it like a line she’s heard spoken so many times she’s memorized it.

“If you believe that, you’re the fool,” I say. “You can tell the King if you like, but I would imagine that would get you into more trouble than it would me. After all, I left on your watch. And I’m sure he can get another lady’s maid far more easily than he could find a new displaced queen to marry off for his own profit.”

The words don’t feel like mine, and when Marial stumbles back a step, looking like I physically struck her, guilt pools in my stomach. I remind myself of what she said about the refugees, and that she would find a way to keep me from going back to the camp if I didn’t stop her, but that logic does nothing to make me feel better. Again, I can’t help but hear the Kaiser in my mind, guiding my actions. I want to apologize, but I can’t bring myself to say the words.

Instead, we merely stare at one another for a painfully long moment. Marial’s expression is inscrutable. Just as the silence starts to become unbearable, she finally speaks.

“You need a bath,” she says finally. “No use having the girls see you this way. I’ll just have to draw it myself.”

IN THE RISER WITH DRAGONSBANE on the way to dinner with some of the suitors, I make the mistake of yawning. I can’t help it: after last night and the hours spent working in the sun at the camp, I’m surprised I’m still standing up straight. Dragonsbane, however, can’t know about any of that, and when she sees me yawn, her eyes narrow.

“Tonight is important.” She says each word slowly, as if talking to a small child. She’s clad in another black dress, this one fitted like a sheath and embroidered with black pearls. It’s a perfect contrast to my own dress of flounced white chiffon. In Astrea, white is the color of mourning, but Marial told me quite bluntly that in Sta’Crivero it symbolizes virginity. Which is hardly subtle, but nothing about the Sta’Criverans seems to be subtle.

“I know it’s important,” I say. “But you’ll excuse me if I pace myself. There will be a lot more of these over the coming days if I’m to get to know all of the suitors.”

“These first three will be our best options,” she says.

I frown. “What do you mean?”

Dragonsbane shrugs. “Every country in the world was invited to try for your hand, apart from Elcourt, which is too closely aligned with Kalovaxia. Etristo is collecting a sum from each suitor, so he wasn’t particularly motivated to keep the list to those who actually have the force to take on the Kalovaxians. Many of the countries are too weak to actually be of assistance, though I suppose their presence only makes you look more desirable.” She pauses, letting that sink in, though it doesn’t exactly surprise me.

“Haptania, Oriana, and Etralia are arguably the strongest countries in the world, after Sta’Crivero,” she continues. “Any of those three has the power to take Astrea back. The others may have the power, but more than likely would only prolong our inevitable defeat.”

“If Sta’Crivero is the strongest country in the world, why don’t they help us directly?”

Dragonsbane smiles at me like I’m a pet who just did an amusing trick. “Because helping you directly doesn’t get them anything. They don’t want Astrea’s magic—you’ve seen how they live, what use would they have of it? They want money, and that is easier to get elsewhere, with far less bloodshed.”

I swallow down my frustration. No one seems to understand that there are Astreans dying in the mines. All they’re concerned about is money and gems and their own safety. If everyone put aside their selfishness, the Kalovaxians could be stamped out as easily as an ant under a boot heel, with minimal effort or risk. But there’s no money in that, so no one bothers.

* * *