Blaise meets Artemisia’s gaze, eyes widening when he understands what she isn’t saying. After a moment, he nods. “I can do that,” he says, testing out the words. “Wood is of the earth.”

My time on the Smoke with Blaise comes back, how the wood that made up the ship started thrumming as erratically as his heartbeat, how I worried it might splinter apart. Artemisia is right—if we can use that against the Kalovaxian ships, we could deal a great blow before even setting foot on the shore. But at a steep cost.

“It’s too dangerous,” I say. “We don’t know what it’ll do to you, never mind our own ships.”

Blaise shakes his head. “My gift is the strongest we have, Theo,” he says.

I remember Mina’s words and imagine a pot boiling over. “It could kill you. If we can get close to them using Art’s and Heron’s gifts, we can sink their ships in the non-magical way—with cannons—and not take that risk.”

Artemisia makes a noise in the back of her throat. “We could,” she says slowly. “It would even be easy, but it would come at a cost still. No matter how much of an advantage we gain by sneaking up on them, we’ll still take losses—warriors, a ship even. Losses we can’t afford.”

“We can’t afford this either,” I say.

For a moment, no one speaks. “Yes, we can,” Blaise says before reluctantly turning his gaze to S?ren. “Since Art will be otherwise occupied, the duty falls to you, Prinkiti. If I seem to be losing control of it and becoming a danger to our ships, you’ll kill me before I can. Are we understood?”

S?ren glances at me and then back to Blaise. “We’re understood,” he says.

“No,” I say, louder this time. “It’s too dangerous. You could die, Blaise.”

Blaise’s jaw tenses and he shrugs. “I can give us an advantage we desperately need.”

I look around at the others, hoping that someone else will speak out against this mad plan, but there is only silence, only friends who won’t look me in the eye. An order dances on the tip of my tongue and I know I could use my crown—metaphorical as it might be—as a weapon again. I could order him to stay out of this, to stay safe, but I swallow down the urge. Some choices are not mine to make.

“We’ll send a rowboat to pass along the plan to the other ships,” I say instead. “What happens when we get to shore?”

“You were a Kalovaxian commander,” Heron says, looking at S?ren. “When we attack the mine, how will they respond?”

S?ren looks a bit flustered at that. “I was never posted at the mines, but as I understand it, they’re trained differently than most warriors, though getting assigned there was always seen as something of an insult. They won’t be the best of men, so there is some comfort there.”

“There would be,” Artemisia says, “if our army weren’t made up of refugees with two weeks of training.”

S?ren doesn’t have an argument for that. Instead he looks at me. “We could wait,” he says. “If we wait for Erik and the Vecturians, we’ll have more warriors and the odds will swing more in our favor.”

“But waiting also means the risk of losing the element of surprise,” I say. “If the Kalovaxian patrol notices our fleet lingering not far from the coast, they’ll attack us.”

S?ren nods before turning toward Heron. “You’ve been keeping in touch with Erik with that gold,” he says. “Has there been any more news from him?”

Heron shakes his head. “Not since the last update I gave. They’re on their way from Timmoree and they’ll hopefully be here tomorrow, but it could be another couple of days, depending on the weather.”

There are so many variables, so many choices with unforeseeable consequences, so many things that could go wrong. I stare at S?ren’s map, as if there might be secrets there that I can somehow find, but it’s just a map, and one that doesn’t put things in our favor.

“What would be the best time to attack?” I ask S?ren.

He frowns. “They’ll have a skeleton guard on the night shift,” he says. “So it would be fewer men awake and ready to fight, but the dark would affect our warriors more than it will affect theirs. The Kalovaxians have trained in the dark, they know how to use it against their enemies. Dawn is our best chance. It’ll be light enough to see, but the guards wouldn’t have changed shifts yet. They’ll be tired, not ready for a fight. Of course, it will only buy us a bit of time before their replacements join them, fully refreshed.”

“And the slaves?” I ask. “Where would they be?”

“Some would be in the mines,” Heron says. “The night shift is smaller, but still present. The rest would be in the slave quarters, here.” He points to a place on S?ren’s map, just next to the mine.

I nod. “I trust your opinion on this,” I tell S?ren. “We’ll attack at dawn.”

I look around at everyone. “It must be dinnertime, go eat,” I say. “There will be more time to plan when you’re done.”

Everyone stands up from the table, chairs scraping against the wooden floors, but I stay seated. I’m too stressed to be able to stomach food, and I don’t want the rest of the ship to see me like this, uncertain and afraid.

“Blaise,” I say when they begin to file out. “Stay a minute, will you?”

He freezes in the doorway, looking at me before stepping back inside. Artemisia pauses as well and nods, leaving the cabin and closing the door, though I’m sure she will be waiting right outside, just in case. The thought makes me sick and I feel sicker still when I realize I’m grateful for her presence.

Neither of us speaks at first and the air is heavy between us. We haven’t spoken much since we left Sta’Crivero, though I’m not sure who is avoiding whom or if it’s even been intentional. There has been so much to do to prepare for this battle. But even as I think that, I remember that there has been time for S?ren to come into my room every night, time for me to fall asleep in his arms. I wonder if Blaise knows about that; I’m sure he must have his suspicions.

I clear my throat. “I don’t like this plan,” I say.

He’s quiet for a moment. “Do you think I do?” he asks finally. “Do you think I relish the idea of risking my life like this?”

“I think you relish the idea of being a hero.” The words force themselves out of me before I can stop them.

Blaise reels back like I slapped him. “It wasn’t my idea, Theo. You heard Artemisia and Heron and S?ren—they all think it’s our best chance. You know it is, too.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you to do it,” I say quietly.

For a painful moment, he only stands there. “Do you believe that Glaidi gave me this gift?” he asks.

“Mina said—”

“I’m not asking what Mina said, or Sandrin, or Heron, or Art. I’m asking what you believe.”

I bite my lip. “Yes,” I say after a moment. “I believe Glaidi blessed you.”

“Then it would be an insult to her to not use her gift,” he says with a grim smile. “This is what I’m meant for. Let me do it.”

I shake my head. “You don’t need my permission, Blaise,” I tell him. “The others agreed with you. I was far outnumbered.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he says. He seems to be fighting himself for a moment before he takes my hands in his, squeezing them tightly. His skin is as feverish as ever, but I squeeze them back. “If you ask me not to do it, I won’t.”

It’s a cruel offer, and part of me hates him for voicing it, because there is no right answer for me to give. I can’t give him my blessing in this any more than I can stop him.

“You know yourself,” I say instead, forcing a smile. “If you believe that you can do this, I do, too.”

THE MOON PROVIDES ALL THE light we need as our ship pulls farther ahead of the fleet. They will wait for our signal that it’s safe. On the bow, Heron, Artemisia, and Blaise stand shoulder to shoulder, staring out at the horizon where three Kalovaxian ships patrol the coast. S?ren and I hang back, watching and waiting for what can only be called a miracle.

S?ren’s hand is on the hilt of his sword, his eyes on Blaise. I don’t have to ask him if he would actually follow Blaise’s direction to kill him if he loses control—I know he will without hesitation as surely as I know that if he does, I will stop him however I can.

Even if it puts everyone else in danger? a voice in my mind whispers, but I push it aside. It won’t come to that. It can’t come to that.

Everyone on the ship who isn’t on duty crowds behind S?ren and me to watch the three of them, and it seems that we are holding one collective breath, waiting for the moment we can finally exhale.

Heron begins first, though the only sign of it is his shoulders tensing with effort. The effect, though, begins immediately, spreading through the ship and all of us. Like it does whenever he’s used his gift on me, my skin begins to tingle as if my whole body has fallen asleep. A quick glance behind me confirms that the others are feeling it, too—some look down at their bodies in surprise and bewilderment only to see them begin to fade before their eyes.