Could I?

Of course not, I argued with myself. What kind of person—what kind of monster—would I be then? I’d be no better than she is.

I exhaled and straightened my shoulders, giving Sabara my silent answer.

Neva lifted a glittering crystal goblet, a smile on her lips. “To Charliana, queen of Ludania,” she said as I slid into my seat. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. I, for one, can’t wait to get to know you better.”

Across from me, Elena raised her glass, eagerly showing her support as well. “We’ve waited so long to have you here. Here’s to you, our newest sister.”

Empress Thea, who sat next to Elena, watched me through lowered lids. She reached for her own glass and lifted it, but only barely. “Yes, dear. I can’t wait to hear more about . . . what you can do.”

I paused then, taken aback. I couldn’t help wondering if I’d misunderstood the implication behind her words. Had she just asked me about my ability?

I smiled slowly, unsure how, exactly, to respond. “Thank you. It’s a pleasure being here.” I answered. I hated this feeling of being tested by these women, but I got the sense that was exactly what was happening.

Queens don’t discuss their powers, Xander’s words rang in my head. He’d been clear and unwavering in that one matter: I was not to discuss what I could do. I was not to tell anyone—ever—that I could understand what was being said around me.

This was still a secret I was meant to keep close.

Empress Filis grinned from her end of the table, and I tried to settle my beating heart as I held my smile, now frozen to my lips. “Ignore Thea. She was born prying.”

Thea shot the other empress a glare, but it wasn’t her I was listening to now.

It was Sabara I heard.

Thea may be queen, but her power is useless. She only wants to know if you can be useful to her.

I reached for my water, hoping no one could see how badly my hand trembled.

The summit was turning out to be nothing at all like I’d expected it to be—a rigorous schedule of meetings and speeches and negotiations, discussions of how to strengthen our country’s economies or trade or military positions. Instead it was unhurried and taut with civility, and seemed to achieve nothing of importance.

There was talk of the night’s ice storms, which had been almost blindingly beautiful to watch, and of the absence of Queen Vespaire—who’d sent Niko in her absence. Already, the palace was bustling as decorations and food were being delivered and displayed for a ball that was being held that evening.

“In honor of you, dear,” Neva explained, her smile cool, her eyes determined.

“Me?”

“To introduce you, of course. And it will be the grandest introduction this summit has ever seen.”

Suddenly it was all too much for me. The frivolity of it. The idea of coming all this way just to attend a party seemed ludicrous, when what I really wanted was to convince the other leaders to extend their technologies, like communication and power resources, to Ludania. I was here to barter, to buy, and to beg if necessary, for the good of my people.

Not to dance. Not to eat and entertain and pretend that those in the Scablands didn’t suffer, that the work camps didn’t exist. Or that half the Capitol hadn’t been razed by a new breed of rebels.

What the hell was I doing here?

I stood abruptly, throwing my napkin down on the table.

The leaders of six nations stared back at me in surprise.

Sit, warned a harsh voice that no one else could hear. And when I didn’t immediately obey, she said it again. . . . This time more gently. Charlaina, don’t be foolish. You may not understand the ways of politics, but you need these women. Sit down. Be patient.

“Is everything not to your liking, Charlaina?” It was Neva who’d asked the question, and I glanced down at my plate, filled with fresh fruits and sliced meats. There were pastries and two kinds of poached eggs, one that looked miniature and the other like it had been stolen from the nest of some sort of monster bird.

My chest tightened.

“It—it’s fine.” I wavered, struggling against Sabara’s words. I did need them, I couldn’t deny the truth in that.

How? Was my silent plea back to her, infused with more hope than I’d meant as I wondered if she could even hear me. I didn’t want Sabara’s help. Or rather, I didn’t want to want her help.

But, now, standing indecisively at a table surrounded by women who I didn’t understand, who I didn’t know how to deal with, I realized I couldn’t do this on my own.

At first there was nothing. The kind of void that resonates, buzzing until my head was filled with its nothingness.

I opened my mouth, trying to decide whether I should stay or go, wanting them to stop watching me, as they waited for me to say something. And then I heard her. Quietly at first. Just a whisper of sound that I almost missed, but growing louder, more assured.

I’ll show you, she promised. I’ll help you, if you help me.

I blinked, lowering myself uncertainly into my chair once more.

“Glad we didn’t chase you off, Ludania,” Hestia said, a wicked smile lifting her lips.

I nodded, smoothing my rumpled napkin over my lap as conversation started again.

I won’t give any of them to you, I told Sabara. I won’t let you leave me. Saying those words, even silently, felt final and filled me with anguish.

That’s not what I want, she answered.