When the stablehand brings the horse around, S?ren helps me up onto its back before swinging on in front of me. He takes the reins from the man and with a lurch we are off. I wrap my arms tightly around S?ren’s waist as the wind whips against my skin. Once we are outside the city, I finally push my hood off my face.

We did it, I realize with a thrill. We made it out of the city before Coltania’s body was found and before the riser attendant could wake up and tell anyone what happened. Even if either of them is discovered now, the guards will never be able to come after us in time to catch up. When they do put the pieces together, they’ll assume we’ve left the same way we came, through ships in the harbor. They won’t think to look at the refugee camp.

I tighten my grip on S?ren’s waist.

“All right?” he asks me, his voice all but lost in the wind.

I nod against his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have left you, you know,” I tell him.

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment I think he didn’t hear me at all—understandable since the wind is so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts. Just when I’ve given up on getting a response, he gives one.

“You never have. Even when it would have made things much easier for you.”

I think about the decision to save him from the dungeon and how much easier it truly would have been to leave him. I would be with my Shadows on a ship now, and we would have been spared an awful lot of trouble and eliminated plenty of risk as well. I remember my deal with Dragonsbane on the Smoke and the sacrifice I made to get S?ren out of the brig. I remember when I myself was in a dungeon, telling Blaise not to save me because I knew S?ren would and I knew we could use that to our advantage.

Having S?ren in my life has complicated things—but I realize now that I wouldn’t wish it to be any other way.

In the garden, I told him that he couldn’t love me because he didn’t really know me, and I still believe that. But it doesn’t change the fact that I know him. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m in love with him.

* * *

—

By the time the walled camp appears on the horizon, the sun is rising, hanging low in the east with the bottom of it still grazing the sand dunes. It’s bright enough to see that we aren’t the first to arrive—there is a group already approaching the entrance with weapons drawn. From this distance, the only detail I can make out is the shock of Artemisia’s blue hair.

S?ren pulls the horse to a halt atop a sand dune that overlooks the camp, and we linger there, watching the fight unfold below us. A mere half-dozen guards rush toward the wall from their barracks nearby. Artemisia makes quick work of one of them, even though he wields two swords to her single blade. First she knocks one from his hand, but when he insists on keeping hold of the other, she responds by cutting off that hand in its entirety.

I tear my gaze away, though the man’s screams carry up to our perch.

“It’ll be over quickly—the guards are outmatched,” S?ren tells me, dismounting and helping me down after him.

I nod. “They were here to keep the refugees inside the walls,” I say. “They were charged with keeping thousands of unarmed people in a pen—little more than shepherds, really. They never dreamed anyone would want to attack from the outside.”

S?ren glances at me, and he must see my discomfort when another of our warriors runs a blade through a guard’s stomach, cutting straight through to the other side.

“You don’t have to watch,” he says. “I can tell you when it’s done.”

For a moment, I consider staying to watch. I ordered this, after all—even if I’m not down there in the thick of it, all of this blood is still on my hands. The least I can do is bear witness to it. But as S?ren said, the battle will be over quickly and there are still more preparations to be made.

“Thank you,” I tell S?ren, walking around to the other side of the horse and shedding my cloak. I smooth my crimson gown, but that does little to help the dirt and wrinkles it’s accumulated from the ride. It’ll have to do.

S?ren glances back at me with raised eyebrows.

“I didn’t realize we were going to a ball. It would have been more practical to ride in trousers.”

“Artemisia said I need to be aware of the image I’m presenting,” I tell him. “I need them to follow me, and they’re more likely to follow someone who looks like a queen than they are a dirty street rat.”

S?ren snorts. “Are those her words?”

I shrug. “She has a point,” I say. “They already see me as a child with no idea what I’m doing.”

His eyes linger on mine for a moment, even as another scream pierces the air.

“I don’t know that it has much to do with the dress,” he tells me. “Maybe it does make you look more regal, but that won’t make them follow you.”

My stomach sinks. “Then what will?” I ask him.

He shrugs, eyes dropping away from mine as he turns back to the camp. “You don’t need to look like a queen—you already are one. Show them the girl who was brilliant enough to escape from under the Kaiser’s nose, who’s fierce enough to protect her people with her life, who’s strong enough to stand on her own two feet, even with the weight of the world on her shoulders. You are a queen, Theo, and they would be mad not to follow you.”

He doesn’t look at me as he says it, and I’m grateful for that. He doesn’t see what the words do to me, how they cause heat to rise to my cheeks. After a moment, I walk toward him and straighten up. The guards all lie in the sand, dead or disarmed, and it is time to see if S?ren is right.

BY THE TIME S?REN AND I make our way to the entrance, the others are waiting. Amid the bodies of the guards, Heron and Artemisia stand together with their bloody swords still drawn. Dragonsbane is there, too, which surprises me. I thought she’d stay on the ship and out of what she thought was a foolish plan, but here she is. She looks my way when we approach, her eyes narrowing slightly. Though fury still burns through me when I think of her offering Etristo the Water Mine, I force myself to nod my thanks. We couldn’t have gotten this far without her help.

I walk toward Heron and Artemisia. It’s only been a few hours since I saw them last, but part of me wants to embrace both of them. The blood staining their clothes and skin is the only thing that holds me back.

“Well done,” I say instead. “What happened back in the harbor? Did you get enough ships?”

Artemisia nods. “Plenty,” she says. “Food, weapons, all of it. My mother is still a bit begrudging about the whole thing, but her crew is much more enthusiastic—I think more than a few of them might join us at the mine.”

I smile. “That’s wonderful,” I say. “And Blaise?”

“We sent him ahead of us to meet with the Elders,” Artemisia explains. “He took them your offer so that everyone could think it over and would be ready to go by the time we got here.”

I nod, swallowing down my nerves. “Let’s get them onto the ships, then. We can sort out who wants to fight and who doesn’t once everyone is safe.”

* * *

—

When Heron and one of Dragonsbane’s men push open the door, I see that the entire camp has already gathered in the streets, huddling together, clutching loved ones tightly to them, with all their worldly possessions clutched to their chests in meager bundles.

Even when I walk in with my Shadows at my back and Dragonsbane and her warriors behind them, none of the refugees appears terribly reassured. They came here for safety, after all, and now I am bringing war to their door.

But they aren’t safe here.

I watch as Elders guide them into a line that files past us and out of the camp that has been their only home for years. Decades, in most cases. I feel their eyes on me as they pass, and I stand up a little straighter, square my shoulders a little more. I try to look like a queen before I remember what S?ren said—there is no such thing as looking like a queen.

I’ve been trying to emulate my mother, I realize, who was always graceful and confident, but I am not her. I would be a fool to be confident and no one needs my grace. They need shelter and food and a path forward, and those are all things I can give them. They will have to be enough.

Sandrin breaks through the crowd and comes toward us, bowing at the waist. Blaise follows him a few paces behind, dark eyes hard and wary. The circles under his eyes are starker than I remember them, and there is an energy about him that startles me. It seems to vibrate in the air around him.

“Your Majesty,” Sandrin says, drawing my attention back to him.

It’s the first time he’s called me that, and the title feels strange coming from his mouth. It doesn’t feel like something I’ve earned yet.

“Sandrin,” I say, inclining my head. “Thank you for your help. As soon as we get everyone on the ships, we’ll depart. We have little reason to believe the Sta’Criverans will give chase. They aren’t much for fighting.”

He nods. “I’ve passed your message on to everyone,” he says, glancing at Blaise behind him. “Many are still considering it.”