“We’ll get him back before that happens,” I tell Erik, as if it’s that simple.

Erik must know it isn’t, but he nods. “We’ll get him back,” he echoes, squeezing my hand.

* * *

—

The Kaiser’s body is already burnt, but we erect a pyre for him anyway. I stand beside it now, close enough to touch his charred skin. I’m barely strong enough to stand for more than a few moments, but I force myself to manage. I remember what I told Blaise what feels like a lifetime ago.

“When the Kaiser is dead, whenever that may be, I want to burn his body. I want to put the torch to him myself and I want to stay and watch until there is nothing left of him but ash.”

I believed that when the Kaiser was dead, it would bring me peace, but even as I stare at his dead body and his empty eyes, peace still feels miles away.

My mother was the Queen of Peace, I think as the men building the pyre finish and leave me alone with the body. But I am not that sort of Queen.

I turn away from the Kaiser to look at the crowd of refugees and freed Astreans who have gathered to watch him burn. It’s a good moment for another speech, perhaps, but they didn’t come here for speeches. Blaise approaches, torch in hand, eyes downcast. He hasn’t looked at me since I woke up, and I’m still not sure if I want him to or not.

I don’t take the torch. Instead, I turn toward the Kaiser and hold out my hand. Again, it takes some coaxing. For a moment, there is a hushed, anticipating silence before the small flame appears, licking at the palm of my hand. Feeble as it is, it’s enough to elicit gasps and murmurs from the crowd.

I touch the flame to the bed of straw beneath his body and watch the fire catch.

Behind me, the crowd’s gasps turn to cheers. Artemisia was right, they don’t hold this power against me—they believe it’s a new gift, given by Houzzah for my sacrifice.

Maybe it is, but it isn’t enough. I saw how Cress wielded her power. She didn’t have to dig for it; it was always there, as much a part of her as her skin and sinew and bones.

I barely hear the cheers. I keep my eyes on the Kaiser’s corpse and I don’t even let myself blink as the flame catches and licks at his already blackened body. It’s only then that I notice the faint glimmer of the red gem at his throat, covered by ash and soot but unmistakable. Ampelio’s Fire Gem pendant. I reach into the flames, take hold of the gem, and pull it free.

Blaise’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder, trying to lead me away from the growing fire, but I don’t let myself be moved.

I want to see it all, the moment the Kaiser disappears into nothing but ash. I hold Ampelio’s pendant tight in my grip, feeling its power tug at my own.

I would wear a crown of that ash, I think.

Finally, when the flames grow so thick I can no longer see him, I turn and walk away without a backward glance.

* * *

—

I find Mina in one of the Kalovaxian barracks, with a boy and girl a little younger than me. The bunks have been pushed to the edges of the room, leaving a large open space in the middle of the stone floor where the three of them stand. Lingering in the shadows of the doorway, I watch them for a moment, unseen.

“Show me, Laius,” Mina says, placing a bowl on the floor between them. When she sets it down, some water sloshes over the sides.

The boy swallows, fidgeting with his hands behind his back. At first, I think he must have been one of the slaves we freed from the mine, but then I notice the marks on his arms, places blood must have been drawn from.

He’s a Guardian. The Kalovaxians must have been studying him before the battle. The thought sickens me, and a quick glance at the girl confirms she has the same marks. How many are there?

The boy—Laius—finally lifts his hands, holding his palms toward the bowl. Instantly, the water streams upward, hovering in the air at eye level in a perfect crystalline sphere.

Mina nods. “Can you turn it to ice?” she asks.

Laius’s brow furrows as he focuses on the sphere. It shifts, the candlelight making it glow, before the surface turns frosted and hard, spreading until it is entirely ice.

“Good,” Mina says. “Release it.”

Laius drops his hands and the sphere drops, shattering on the stone floor.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Quite all right,” Mina says. “How do you feel?”

She steps toward him to feel his forehead, and when she does, she catches sight of me. “Your Majesty,” she says, inclining her head in my direction.

Laius and the girl fall into a clumsy bow and curtsy as I step entirely into the room.

“Mina,” I reply before smiling at the other two. “You found Guardians.”

Her mouth purses. “I did. There were ten altogether. Nine fire, including Griselda here. Laius was brought from the water mine so they could be studied side by side. Laius, Griselda, would you allow Queen Theodosia to touch you?”

“Why?” I ask. I frown, but they seem to understand what she’s asking and nod. Mina beckons me forward.

“Feel their foreheads,” she instructs.

Warily, I reach a hand out to each of them: when I touch their skin, it’s hot, like Blaise’s. And now that I’m close enough, I can see the dark circles under their eyes, like neither has slept in a long time.

Mina sees the understanding dawn on me. “Why don’t you two go get lunch?” she suggests to Laius and Griselda. “We’ll continue lessons afterward.”

The children hurry off, and I wait until they’re out of earshot before speaking again.

“There are more,” I say, not sure what to call them. Berserkers isn’t inaccurate, but the word feels like a death sentence.

Mina nods. “The other eight are Guardians in the traditional sense, but Laius’s and Griselda’s abilities are unlike any I’ve seen before. Like the hypothetical friend you described. Is he still hypothetical?”

I hesitate. “It’s Blaise. He’s an Earth Guardian.”

“I figured as much. I saw what he did to those ships—more than any Earth Guardian should be capable of.”

“It almost killed him,” I say.

“But it didn’t,” she says. “Not this time.”

I don’t have an answer for that. “You said you were giving them lessons. Is that true, or are you studying them?” I ask instead.

“A bit of both, I suppose,” she says with a heavy sigh. “The stories I heard said that Guardians like them were rare—there were records of one a century perhaps. Now, there are three altogether and we haven’t even seen the other mines. Who knows how many there are in total?”

“What does it mean?” I ask her.

She shrugs, glancing at the door the boy and girl just left through. “If you were to ask Sandrin, he would tell you that it’s part of the gods’ plan, and maybe he’s right. But maybe there’s a higher percentage of people going into those caves, so there are more people who have just enough room for the exact amount of power they are given. Maybe the gods have a hand in that as well.” She turns her gaze back to me. “You didn’t come here about them, though, did you?”

I hesitate before shaking my head. I hold out my hand, palm up, and after a moment of concentration, a small flame appears, nestled in my palm. Mina watches, her eyes thoughtful.

“It’s not much,” she says after a moment. “It’s more than mine, I’ll give you that, but if this were before the siege, it wouldn’t have been enough to make you a Guardian.”

I close my hand and smother the flame. “Crescentia—the Kaiserin—the one I told you about who drank the Encantrio…she oozes power. It comes to her as easily as breath. She doesn’t even have to reach for it, it’s just there.”

“You want to know if you’re a match for her, but you already know the answer to that,” she says. “You are a pot half full, and she is close to brimming.”

I swallow down my disappointment. It’s nothing I didn’t already suspect, but it hurts to hear all the same.

“All those people, they’re treating me like a Phiren who rose from the ashes,” I say, my voice trembling. “Like I’m the hero they’ve been waiting for. And I’m not. I can’t protect them from her, from any of the Kalovaxians.”

Mina’s jaw hardens. “You survived a stand against the Kalovaxians—few can say the same. You’ve protected us this far; who’s to say you need a gift to keep doing it?”

I smile and thank her, but deep inside, I think we both know she’s wrong.

We survived this fight because of luck and little more. Next time, we might not.

THE KALOVAXIANS ALWAYS SPOKE OF battlefields with more reverence than they spoke of their temples. There was even a popular court ballad about one, with its “grass streaked red with the blood of enemies,” that made a battlefield sound beautiful in its own, violent way.