If news of S?ren’s pivot surprises Erik, he doesn’t show it. “Vecturia changed him,” he says. “It changed many of us, but S?ren more so, I think. Most of the Kalovaxians didn’t see the Astreans as people—they saw weapons. When S?ren gave the order—” He breaks off when he sees me flinch. I can’t help it. I don’t want to know about what happened next. I don’t want to hear details of how horrifically my people were murdered. I don’t want to hear about how bad S?ren felt when he gave the order to kill hundreds of my people and thousands of innocent Vecturians who were only protecting their home.

“How did you feel, Erik, when you watched Astrean men and women forced to destroy themselves to protect you?” I ask instead, my voice coming out like tinder just waiting for a spark.

He doesn’t answer right away.

“I’m glad that we can finally speak frankly, Theo,” he says finally, his voice quiet. “Honesty doesn’t come easily for me, after so many years with the Kalovaxians, but I’ll try.” He takes a breath. “By the time Vecturia happened, I think I was numb to the suffering of others. I was nine when we left Goraki, when I watched my home burn to the ground. Even before that, I watched the Kalovaxians treat my people the same way they treat their Astrean slaves now. The Kaiser beat my mother in front of me, and when she tried to rebel against him, he made me watch while a man sewed her mouth shut. It’s not a good answer, that I was too numb, but it’s the truth. I am sorry for what happened, truly I am, and I will do everything in my power to keep it from happening again.”

I’m stunned to silence, but Dragonsbane isn’t.

“And what power is that?” she asks him. “King Etristo is right—Goraki has nothing to its name anymore. There are no more expensive silks to sell, no more goods at all as far as I’ve heard. You can’t have much of an army either. It’s estimated that less than two thousand Gorakians survived the Kalovaxian invasion. Is that number false?”

Erik, to his credit, does not wither under Dragonsbane’s stare.

“I haven’t counted them myself,” he says. “But that estimate sounds accurate.”

“Then how?” she presses.

But Erik doesn’t have an answer. “We’re stronger together,” he says instead, speaking to me. “Our countries united against the Kalovaxians are stronger than we would be alone.”

“Yes,” I say with a sad smile. “But still not strong enough.”

BACK IN MY ROOM, I ring the bell that summons Marial and she arrives a few moments later. As she changes me into my nightgown, she gives me a warning look, as if she suspects that I’m breaking rules once more. I smile innocently in return, but I don’t think it fools her. After what feels like an eternity, she finally takes her leave with a stiff curtsy. I wait a few minutes before stepping out into the hallway myself, finding Erik waiting for me. He leans against the wall opposite my door, arms folded over his chest, still dressed in his brocade robe from dinner, though it looks a bit more disheveled now. His hair is down from its bun, hanging loose to his shoulders.

“Awfully forward of you, Theo,” he says with a smirk. “Asking your suitor to meet you in your bedroom.”

“Outside my bedroom,” I correct. “I thought you’d like to see S?ren.”

The cocky smile slips from his face. “Thank you,” he says, but there’s a note of fear in his voice.

“What is it?” I ask, leading him down the hall toward S?ren’s room.

“It feels like a lifetime has passed since I saw him last, even though it’s only been a couple of weeks. I might as well be an entirely different person,” he admits.

“You still seem like yourself to me,” I say. “Besides, S?ren’s done some changing as well.”

“That worries me even more,” Erik admits. “I’ve known S?ren since the day he was born. I don’t like the idea of us being strangers.”

I remember Blaise appearing out of nowhere at that banquet months ago, the first time I had seen him in a decade. He was a stranger to me then, even though once we had been close.

“Being strangers is an easy enough thing to fix,” I say, squeezing his arm. “But you have to start at some point.”

There’s a guard outside S?ren’s door who doesn’t even try to hide his disapproval at my late-night visit.

“The Emperor is here to see Prinz S?ren,” I tell the guard with a sweet smile. “They were raised together, you see.”

The guard gives a skeptical grunt but steps aside for us to pass. I lift my hand and knock.

“Come in,” S?ren says, his voice muffled through the door.

I push the door open and step inside first. S?ren is lounging on top of his bed with a leather-bound book in his hands. When he sees me, he puts it aside and sits up, frowning in confusion.

“Theo? What are you…” He trails off when Erik appears behind me, going from merely confused to bewildered. He scrambles to stand. “Erik?” His voice is tentative, as though he might be imagining him.

Erik smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hello, S?ren.”

“What are you doing here?” S?ren asks, stepping toward him. He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead he folds Erik into a hug that looks tight enough to break bones. After a moment, S?ren pulls back, holding Erik at arm’s length. “And what are you wearing?”

Erik laughs. “That is a long story,” he says, but he tells him anyway.

* * *

—

When I make my move to leave them alone to catch up, Erik follows me to the door.

“My mother wants a word with you,” he tells me.

“Hoa’s here?” I ask, surprised. “Why didn’t you say so before?”

He shrugs, though he looks uncomfortable. “I thought King Etristo might want to meet her, the Kaiser’s escaped concubine. I didn’t want to subject her to that kind of attention any sooner than necessary.”

I think about the way King Etristo and his family treated me at dinner my first night here.

“Some people enjoy reveling in the misery of others,” I agree.

“Most people, I’ve found. It seems to be a human trait.” He hesitates for a moment. “We’ve removed the stitches, so she can speak again,” he says. “But it’s been so long since she has that it can be difficult to understand her at times. And she’s still a little—” He breaks off, shaking his head.

“Ten years under the Kaiser’s thumb was a nightmare I can’t fully describe to anyone,” I say. “I can’t imagine how she managed twenty.”

* * *

—

Hoa is waiting in my room when I open the door. She’s perched delicately on the edge of a chair by the empty mosaic fireplace that I imagine is purely ornamental, her back ramrod straight and her hands folded primly in her lap. Like Erik, she’s dressed in a long brocade robe, but hers is a pale peach, tied around her waist with a red silk sash. The wide sleeves swallow her thin arms so that only her bone-pale hands are visible. Her black hair is threaded with silver, though she wears it loose around her shoulders now instead of in the tight bun I’ve always seen it in. The stitches across her mouth are gone, but the holes remain, three on the top and three on the bottom. I doubt they’ll ever close completely.

She must hear me come in but she doesn’t look up, her eyes fixed on the empty fireplace as if she expects a fire to spark to life at any moment.

“Hoa,” I say carefully. Though I know she’s actually here before me, she feels ephemeral and I half expect her to disappear if I spook her.

She doesn’t. Instead, she turns to look at me. Though she’s not yet forty, she looks so much older, as if a dozen lives have been sucked out of her. The Kaiserin had the same look about her before she died. I suppose the Kaiser has a way of doing that to women, draining them.

It’s Hoa’s smile that breaks me, because I’ve never seen it. I don’t think she was capable of it when her mouth was stitched shut, and even if she had been, there wasn’t much for her to smile about. It’s a shame, because her smile is bright enough to clear the sky during a storm.

“My Phiren,” she murmurs, getting to her feet.

The word is strange, but I barely hear it. My body is frozen, even when she crosses to me and puts her hands on either side of my face. She kisses one of my cheeks, then the other.

It occurs to me that I never expected to see her again. In my mind, she is a ghost, already dead and buried. Only she isn’t—she’s here, flesh and bone, and I don’t know what to say to her.

“I hate this language,” she tells me in Kalovaxian. “It tastes like funeral dirt in my mouth, but it is the only one we share, isn’t it?”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” I say. “You should have gone far away, somewhere the Kaiser won’t find you.”

She raises her thread-thin eyebrows. “If it is safe enough for you, it is safe enough for me.”

“And if it isn’t safe for me?” I ask. “The Kaiser has offered an enticing reward for my death or return to him. King Etristo has promised me safety, but I’m not foolish enough to believe that such a promise is a guarantee. You can go somewhere else, somewhere the Kaiser will never look.”

Hoa is quiet for a moment. “Fear gives monsters power,” she says finally. “I am not afraid of him; he does not get that power over me. Not anymore, my Phiren.”

I frown. It’s the second time she’s used this word that I do not know. Erik said that she was difficult to understand at times. Maybe I’m not hearing her correctly.

“Phiren,” I repeat, trying to make sense of it.