“Oh,” I say, surprised. “I didn’t realize, Salla Coltania.”

She shakes her head, cheeks reddening. “It’s a silly formality.”

“What field are you an expert in?” I ask.

“Science,” Chancellor Marzen says. “She’s studied with the best minds around the world to learn all about biology and chemistry and things I can’t begin to pronounce.” His self-deprecating smile is as charming and practiced as everything else about him.

“I admit, I don’t know much about science,” I say, leaning forward.

“It’s all quite boring,” Chancellor Marzen laughs. “She’s driven off all her suitors with talk of chemical compounds. It’s a talent, really.”

“One I employ intentionally,” she replies, but her smile is warmer this time. “As women, we must have our weapons in this world, whether they’re our minds or our fists or our wiles or our tears.”

My own smile feels more real as I lift my wineglass. “I couldn’t agree more,” I say.

* * *

—

“I don’t like him,” I tell S?ren later that afternoon, while we walk together through the palace’s roof garden, which S?ren says is renowned across the world. I can see why—there are more flowers here than I can name, in a prism of colors that I didn’t know could exist in nature. Gold-paved trails wind through a veritable maze of foliage while fingers of sunlight filter down through the branches of trees overhead. A complex web of piping stretches over the garden like a canopy, letting down a constant stream of light mist to negate Sta’Crivero’s dry air. There’s no one else in sight.

“The Chancellor?” S?ren asks, his brow creasing. “He doesn’t seem too terrible. He’s certainly ambitious, but that isn’t a negative trait.”

“Not in and of itself,” I admit, stopping to examine a cluster of white flowers shaped like stars. Pretty as they are, they smell of nothing. I straighten up and take S?ren’s arm again. “Something about him and his sister troubles me. They’re a team—he’s smooth and well-spoken, but she’s the attack dog when his charm isn’t enough. I don’t think one knows how to function without the other.”

“Do you think there’s something untoward between them?”

It takes me a moment to realize what he’s insinuating. I wrinkle my nose. “Gods no, I didn’t mean that. Just that they’re like two halves of one person, each distilled.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “There were rumors surrounding the election he won, though I’m sure they were twisted and convoluted by the time they made their way to me,” he says carefully.

“What sort of rumors?”

S?ren shrugs. “Bribes. Threats. Hired assassins, in some of the more outlandish tales. They say she carved his way to the chancellorship and the path is lined with blood and greed. I doubt the veracity of most of the claims—they have many enemies in Oriana. Many wealthy, old families still bristle at the thought of a young upstart taking their highest seat. Rumors usually have only a grain of truth to them, if that.”

“I think we know that better than most, given what people are saying about us,” I point out with a laugh.

For an instant, S?ren looks like he wants to say something, but he only shakes his head, as if he’s clearing the thought away. “Do you have any favorites yet?” he asks instead. I let out a groan and he quickly rephrases it. “Are there any who aren’t as awful as you expected?”

I consider it. “I know Erik, I trust him more than the others, and he would accept an alliance without marriage, but that alliance would get us nothing. Goraki is too weak after the Kalovaxian invasion. They can’t protect themselves, let alone declare war on another country.”

Though I know it’s the truth, my heart sinks when S?ren doesn’t contradict me.

“Of the suitors with enough power to help me take Astrea back, I prefer the Archduke,” I tell him, though saying the words aloud makes me want to vomit. “Haptania has a large enough army to be of assistance, and he treats me with more respect than any of the others. I think we could be friends, in the long run.”

I can’t bring myself to even think about what it would mean to join our countries, to give him and his country some slice of control over mine.

S?ren considers it for a moment, his brow creased deeply in concentration. This is what he looks like on a battlefield, I think, surveying the terrain and coming up with strategies. When he turns his head to look at me with that same intensity, my stomach flutters. For a moment, it feels like we’re back in Astrea, before we betrayed each other and salted the earth between us.

This is how he looked in Vecturia, before he gave the order to use my people as weapons. I tear my gaze away.

“Is there an option that doesn’t include marriage?” I ask him, though I know that if there were, he would have said so already. Still, I hope.

He considers it, reaching up to touch the low-hanging leaves of a tree as we pass beneath its shade.

“Hypothetically,” he says, “if you were to take the few warriors Erik could offer, plus the maybe sixty percent of Dragonsbane’s crew who may be convinced to follow you—and that’s being optimistic…No, it’s not enough. Not by half. Not by a quarter.”

I rub my temples and close my eyes tightly, as if I can shut out the reality of the situation. “Then I suppose it’s the Archduke, unless another option comes along.”

He hesitates. “What if…what if I came along?” he asks.

I laugh. “S?ren, be serious,” I say.

He stops short, reaching for me, callused fingers taking hold of my arm so that I have no choice but to look at him. “I am being serious. That was your original plan when we were in Astrea, wasn’t it? Divide the Kalovaxians so that some are following me and some are following my father?”

“It was more complicated than that,” I say. “And the rest of the plan was to kill you in order to start a civil war, in case you’ve forgotten.”

He winces. “I’m not terribly keen on that part.”

I shake my head. “Half the Kalovaxians think you’re a traitor. The other half think you weak enough to get captured by a girl. Do you remember what Mattin said on the ship? He thought I’d cast a spell on you. I’m sure he isn’t the only one to hold that belief.”

He considers it, that same quiet intensity etched into his features. “There are men I’ve fought beside for years who might still be more loyal to me than to my father,” he says. “It can’t hurt to write a letter.”

“It can if it shows our enemies where we are and what we’re doing here,” I point out. “There is a price on my head, S?ren, and if the Kaiser finds out I’m here, I don’t think even Etristo will be able to protect me, especially if he learns we’re planning on robbing him of his cut of my dowry.”

“We can work through other channels,” he says. “Send the letters through several messengers so that they’re untraceable.”

“And what would all of that effort get us? A few dozen warriors? It still won’t be enough.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but the intensity doesn’t fade from his gaze.

“I just don’t want you to have to do it,” he says finally. “I don’t want you to marry any of them.”

“And here I thought you liked the Archduke,” I say, keeping my voice light and teasing. “You idolize him.”

“He’s a brilliant warrior,” S?ren agrees before lowering his voice. “But that doesn’t mean he deserves you.”

His words knock the air out of my lungs, flustering and angering me at once. The anger wins out, because it’s so much simpler.

“I’m not a prize to be deserved,” I tell him sharply. “King Etristo might treat me that way but I expected better from you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says before sighing. “But it’s been…difficult, watching them squabble over you even though I know they’re only fighting for a faraway country, for gems, for money. I’ve held my tongue, Theo, and I won’t say another word about it after this, I promise, but you have to know it’s driving me mad.”

For a long moment, I can’t think of a single thing to say. I’d thought we were on the same side of this, that whatever was between us was buried so deep now that we could just ignore it. I don’t like being reminded of how recently I thought I was falling in love with him, how even now he has the power to quicken my heartbeat, to turn my thoughts upside down.

When I don’t reply right away, S?ren steps closer to me, his grip on my arm tightening. The scent of driftwood still clings to his skin, and despite all the reasons I know I shouldn’t, I lean into him. His mouth is so close that I can smell the coffee lingering on his breath, so close that if I just tilt my head up, his lips would find mine. The desire to do just that is overwhelming, but instead I bring my free hand up to his shoulder and push him back.