I shake my head. “They’re brewing up a truth serum for you, so as soon as they give you that, you should be in the clear. King Etristo said it could take some time, though.”

S?ren nods but he looks unconvinced. “Any clue who actually is working for my father?”

“None,” Erik says, his voice heavy. “It could quite literally be anyone. Hell, if they knew we shared a bloodline, I would probably be down here with you.”

“Yes, let’s keep that secret,” I say before sighing. “I got a reprieve from the suitors, at least. I said I couldn’t meet with anyone unless you were present to advise me.”

S?ren snorts. “I’m sure your aunt is pleased about that,” he says.

He means it as a joke, but the mention of Dragonsbane is like sandpaper against my skin and S?ren must see me cringe.

“What is it?” he asks.

I hesitate. “I have a question about the Astrean siege.” I take a deep breath and consider not asking at all. Maybe I don’t want to know the answer. “If we’d been warned that you were coming, what would have happened? Would it have been like Vecturia? Would you have turned around?”

S?ren frowns, thinking it over for so long I start to worry he’ll never answer, but finally he shakes his head. “Maybe it would have lasted longer. Maybe it would have turned into a war instead of a siege, but we still would have outmatched you. Astrea wasn’t prepared for an attack like that—they’d never had to face one before. I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you were looking for.”

“It is, actually,” I say. “But it still doesn’t make me feel any better.”

What Dragonsbane said pours out of me, and for their part, Erik and S?ren listen.

When I finish, my words are barely louder than a whisper. “I’ve always imagined my mother as a perfect queen, but that image has been ruined and I don’t know how to get it back.”

Erik and S?ren exchange a look, but it’s Erik who finally speaks.

“Well, our father is the Kaiser,” he says slowly. “We don’t have much experience with shattered illusions of parental figures.”

“But was there ever a time when you admired him?” I ask, looking between them.

They’re both quiet.

“No,” S?ren says finally. “Even before I understood what he was doing to other people, I knew what he was doing to my mother. I don’t remember a single kind word. I do remember her cowering in fear every time he approached her and wincing whenever he addressed her, like she’d been slapped. I saw my father as a monster from the very start—I just didn’t realize how wide his reach was.”

Erik clears his throat. “I think there was a time I aspired to be like him,” he admits. “It wasn’t for very long, yet it was there. He never acknowledged me as his son or even spoke to me, but it was no secret. I knew. And as a child, I thought that if I were bigger, if I were stronger, if I were better, he would love me. I hated you,” he tells S?ren.

S?ren frowns. “You did? I didn’t know that.”

Erik shrugs, glancing away. The light is too dim to say for sure, but I think his cheeks redden. “I didn’t know you then—only from a distance. You were just this boy who had everything I wanted so desperately, and you didn’t seem to appreciate it at all. Of course I hated you. But when we apprenticed together and became friends, I understood. I think that was when my illusions were shattered, though that’s a different sort of thing.”

“No, I think I understand,” I tell him. “Thank you.”

S?ren heaves a heavy sigh. “So, will you go back to the camp now that you don’t have to worry about suitors for a few days?”

“I suppose so,” I say, though the idea fills me with both excitement and dread. I loved helping out there and talking to other Astreans, but the guilt was almost unbearable—how can I sit in King Etristo’s palace, eating sumptuous dishes until my stomach feels like it will burst, wearing dresses that cost a fortune each, while all of them are dirty and starving and sick? But, of course, I have to go. If I don’t do everything I can to help them, I’ll never forgive myself. I certainly couldn’t call myself their Queen.

An idea occurs to me and I turn to Erik. “You should come, too,” I say. “There are Gorakians there. You should see them, if you’re to be their Emperor. I don’t think they know Goraki is safe again; they might want to return.”

Erik considers it. “I’m not counting on that,” he says, shaking his head. “Safe is a relative term and they honestly might be better off here.”

The idea makes me queasy. “Don’t say that until you’ve seen it,” I tell him, then look back at S?ren. “Is there anything you need?”

S?ren considers it for a moment. “Just for time to pass quicker. Do you have anywhere to be before breakfast?”

“No,” I say. “We can stay awhile.”

S?ren stretches out on the dirty floor, leaning against the brick wall. “Well then,” he says. “How do you feel about another lesson in Astrean?”

“Now?” I ask, frowning. “Surely there’s a better time and place.”

“I’m quite literally a captive pupil,” he tells me. “And it’ll take my mind off other things, like King Etristo deciding to execute me.”

The idea of that ties my stomach into knots. “I would never let that happen,” I say.

S?ren smiles, though it doesn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “I think you’ve worked enough miracles for me already, Theo. This one might be beyond even you.” He sits up. “But see? I’m proving my point—we need a distraction. Erik could stand to learn a few words, too.”

“Actually, I think trying to learn two languages at the same time will only confuse me,” Erik says with a yawn. He leans against the hallway wall, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. “Just wake me when you’re ready to go, Theo.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You can’t honestly just fall asleep like that.”

Though his eyes stay closed, his mouth quirks into a smile. “I’m a sailor,” he says. “I can sleep anywhere.”

And either he’s true to his word or he does a very good imitation of it—snores and all—as I teach S?ren some basic Astrean words. I, you, have, does, water, bread.

It’s difficult to tell how much time passes without any sunlight, but when Erik and I leave the dungeon, S?ren seems to be in somewhat better spirits. We promise to visit again soon, but S?ren doesn’t look like he believes us.

AS SOON AS I GET back to my room, I’m greeted with a barrage of panicked shouts.

“We thought you were dead,” Heron says, his normally tranquil eyes burning a bright amber. “What were you thinking, leaving in the middle of the night?”

“And you took your dagger?” Artemisia adds. “Were you trying to save the Kaiser’s assassin the trouble?”

“You could have been killed,” Blaise says. Anger radiates off him so strongly that I can practically see it simmering in the air. His hands shake, but he doesn’t seem to notice it.

I notice, though, and so do Heron and Artemisia. In that instant, their anger and fear disappear, drowned out by Blaise’s. The ground beneath my feet trembles so slightly that I could attribute it to the whirring of the riser down the hall—but this isn’t that sort of tremor. It’s a hum, as if the stones are speaking, as if they are being spoken to in return.

“Blaise,” I say, careful to keep my voice soft. But even when his dark eyes lock on mine, they are strange and faraway, as if he’s not seeing me at all.

The tremor in the ground grows stronger, until the glasses left on the table begin to rattle. I know that I should do something, say something, but I am frozen in place, unable to do anything but stare at him. Dust flakes down from the ceiling, falling over us like the ash used to when the Kaiser made me wear that crown.

Artemisia is the first one to react. In a few quick strides, she crosses the room to Blaise and slaps him hard across the face, the sound echoing above the rumble, but it has no effect on him.

I’ve seen Blaise lose control of his powers before, but he has always fought to regain it. It’s never been like this. I don’t know if he’s in his body at all.

The vase on my vanity topples off the edge, shattering against the floor and sending water and limp roses everywhere. I have to grab the wall to steady myself before making my way toward Blaise, my heart pounding against my rib cage. It occurs to me all of a sudden how dangerous this is, not just for Blaise but for all of us. The Sta’Criveran towers are already precariously tall. A full-blown earthquake could topple this one, and the rest would fall like dominoes, crushing the city below. If we don’t get through to Blaise, he could destroy the city and kill thousands.

“Blaise,” I say again, reaching for his shoulders. His skin is burning hot even through the material of his shirt, like fire against my skin, but I hold on tight. I try to shake him, but he is rooted to the spot. “Please, Blaise. I’m fine.”