THE GUARD LEADS ME INTO the throne room; S?ren, Erik, and my Shadows follow at my heels. I must be growing jaded by all the Sta’Criveran opulence, because the room’s frescoed walls, marble floors, and ornate gold chandeliers barely register in my mind. All I see is the throne at the center, so large and hulking that at first I don’t even notice King Etristo’s frail frame. He practically disappears into the plush velvet cushion.

I walk up the aisle between the rows of seats, feeling the suitors’ eyes on me as I pass. We must be the last ones here, because every seat in the audience chamber is filled, apart from a few chairs in the front and one with the Gorakian delegation that Erik takes. What are these people looking for? Grief? Fear? Though I feel both of those things, I am mostly just numb. They all look wary and suspicious, as if whoever poisoned the archduke is sitting right beside them. A terrifying thought that I try to dismiss.

The guard escorts us to the front row of chairs and we take them, S?ren on one side of me, Artemisia on the other.

“There you are, my dear,” King Etristo says with his usual condescending smile. He sits up a little straighter in his throne. “I’m happy to say that we caught the person responsible for the Archduke’s murder.”

Murder. So he is dead. What scrap of hope I’d been clinging to shrivels and dies. I didn’t know him well enough to truly mourn him, not after everyone else who has been taken from me, but I still feel his death like a sharp jab between my ribs. Though I hate myself for it, I mourn the loss of his promise more. I mourn how close I came to reclaiming Astrea, only to have it snatched away once again.

“Who was responsible?” I ask

King Etristo claps his hands twice. A different guard enters through the door behind the throne, escorting a girl in manacles. It takes a moment for me to recognize her as the attendant from earlier, the fearful one who delivered my letter just this afternoon, who poured the wine for the Archduke and me. Her eyes are even more terrified now, rapidly roving across the room, looking for a friendly face. She doesn’t find one.

I clear my throat and look back at King Etristo. “Of course I trust your judgment, Your Highness, but what ill will could this girl bear toward the Archduke?”

The King’s smile is grim. “That, my dear, is precisely what we’re here to find out.” He turns to where Chancellor Marzen and his sister are sitting. “Salla Coltania,” he says. “I understand you’ve brought us truth serum from Oriana.”

Coltania stands up from her place beside her brother in the row behind me. Her face is pale and her expression drawn tight. “Yes, Your Highness,” she says, voice wavering. “We always keep it on hand while traveling, in case we need to discover if any strangers mean us harm. Of course, we never expected something like this.”

“None of us did, my dear,” he says with a sigh before gesturing her forward. “I’ll leave it to you to administer, as you are the professional.”

Coltania steps toward the attendant girl with a vial in hand, and the girl immediately begins fighting against the guard holding her bound hands—as if there’s any way she can flee. Unbidden, I think of Elpis in a similar situation. Elpis didn’t deserve what was in that vial, though, and this girl does. It won’t kill her, only bring forth the truth. Why would she fight so hard if she has nothing to hide?

Coltania forces the potion down her throat and the fight leaves the girl’s body. She slumps back against the guard holding her, blinking uncertainly.

“It will take a minute to work,” Coltania says to King Etristo.

If it truly is only a minute, it stretches on for what feels like an eternity. Finally, Coltania speaks again, this time to the girl.

“Please state your name,” she says.

The girl swallows, looking like she’s coming out of a daze. “Rania,” she says quietly.

Coltania inspects the girl’s pupils and measures the pulse at her wrist before nodding to King Etristo. “You may proceed,” she says.

King Etristo leans forward, eyes on the girl. “Did you poison the Archduke’s food?” he asks her.

“No,” she says, sounding dreamy and faraway, like she’s on the other side of a glass wall. “I poisoned the wine.”

A murmur goes through everyone gathered, even my Shadows. After all, I drank the wine—everyone did.

“With what?” King Etristo asks.

The girl’s eyes dart around the room before landing on the King once again, struggling to remain focused. “With poison,” she says, sounding confused. “I don’t know what kind, it’s what I was given.”

“Given by whom?” King Etristo asks.

She swallows. The truth serum makes her wobbly on her feet and she lurches side to side, steadied by the guard. “The Kaiser,” she says. “The Kaiser sent it, with payment.”

More murmurs, but this time I’m numb to them. It’s no more than I expected, but hearing her confirmation feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. I almost don’t hear what she says next.

“He won’t stop,” she says, voice beginning to slur. “He won’t stop until she’s dead.” She lifts her manacled hands and points to me.

The ground drops out beneath me and I almost fall out of my chair, but Artemisia’s hand on my arm anchors me.

The girl sways harder on her feet until the guard is struggling to keep her standing. Her head lolls from side to side.

King Etristo looks to Coltania. “Is this normal?” he asks her.

Coltania is bewildered. She steps toward the girl and grabs her forcefully by the chin, wrenching her jaw open. The words she mutters under her breath aren’t ones I can translate, though I’m sure they’re curses.

“Her tongue is black. Spit!” she commands, her voice sharp.

The girl blinks in confusion before doing as she’s told and spitting on the ground. The spit is tar black but there is something else there as well. Coltania crouches down, touching the spit and rubbing a bit of it between her fingers. She holds it up close to her eye.

“Shards of glass,” Coltania says, wiping the spit on the hem of her dress. She looks up at King Etristo. “A poison pill she must have had in her mouth since before you arrested her. Given to her to take if she was questioned,” she explains to him.

Then why did she only just take it? Why didn’t she take it as soon as the guards arrested her?

Before I can follow that line of thought, King Etristo’s voice pierces the air in a panicked shout. “What are you waiting for? Save her.”

Coltania looks at the girl and shakes her head sadly. “I can’t,” she says. “She was dead the moment she broke the capsule. There’s no cure for deathdrake. She only has a moment left and she won’t be lucid for it. There’s nothing to do but let it take her.”

Black foam begins pouring out of the girl’s mouth and she sags against the guard, tremors rocking through her. I wish I could ask her why she did it, if it was just the money or if there was malice there as well. I wish I could understand what new game the Kaiser is playing from his throne across the ocean. But the life is already leaving her eyes and I can’t watch another person die.

I say a silent prayer to the gods and get to my feet, my advisors following a second later. I start to make my way out of the room, but King Etristo’s voice stops me.

“Just a moment, my dear,” he says, though there is no cloying sweetness to his voice now. Instead he sounds angry and panicked, like a cornered animal. Distantly, I know that is what makes him dangerous, but I force myself to turn back toward him.

“Yes, Your Highness?” I say.

Instead of responding, the King leans down toward his guards and murmurs something I can’t make out, gesturing toward me before getting to his feet. As he exits the throne room, the guards come toward us. I notice only an instant too late that they draw their weapons.

“Prinz S?ren, by the order of King Etristo you are under arrest for the murder of Archduke Etmond.”

Without thinking about their drawn weapons or the suitors still present, I step between the approaching guards and a shell-shocked S?ren.

“Prinz S?ren was not responsible for the poisoning of the Archduke,” I say, enunciating each word carefully so that the entire throne room can hear me. “If S?ren wanted to kill me, he’s had plenty of opportunities to do so,” I say. “He wouldn’t use something as cowardly as poison, and if he had, I’m sure he’d have succeeded in properly killing me.”

It hardly feels like a solid defense, even to my own ears.