I give myself one more moment as I pat my face dry with a towel, and Heron steps away from me, letting my hair fall down around my shoulders again. When I turn around to face them, I am strong and sure and ready to rise. I am Queen Theodosia.

“It worked,” I tell Heron and Blaise, looking between them. “Better than I expected, even. The Prinz made a scene—called the Kaiser selfish and laid the lives of his fallen comrades at his feet. Honestly, given the way the Kaiser was looking at him, he might kill Søren himself, though that’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Søren will be here soon and the plan is on track.”

Blaise nods, eyes holding mine. “Elpis’s family is on board Dragonsbane’s ship. Artemisia is waiting there to make sure her mother keeps her word.”

Heron digs into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a leather hair tie, a scrap of crimson fabric embroidered with a gold dragon, and an Earth Gem.

“I nicked these,” he says, passing them to me. “Scatter them on the ground, make it look like a fight.”

I nod, taking them. I’ll need a different dress, one with pockets to hold them, but I’m anxious to get out of this one anyway.

“Søren will be here soon,” I tell them. “You should both already be gone when he gets here. I’ll tell him I want to go for a sail and I’m sure he’ll be happy to oblige—he’s more comfortable on the water than here in the palace. Off the East Harbor, it’s a small boat with a red sail.”

“I’ll be waiting in another boat nearby. We should have a signal for if you run into trouble,” Blaise says.

“I’ll scream. That’ll be signal enough,” I tell him before turning to Heron. “That leaves you to get Elpis. Do you remember where the Theyn lives?”

Heron nods. “I remember,” he says. He takes a step toward the door before turning back toward me. “Is it all right if I hug you?”

“We’re going to see each other in an hour or so,” I say with a half smile. “But yes, I would like that.”

Heron smiles back before closing the distance between us and wrapping his lanky arms around me. It’s a good hug, the kind that feels like safety and home and love. I let myself get lost in it for a moment before pulling back.

“I’ll see you soon,” I tell him emphatically.

“Soon,” he repeats before hugging me again, briefly, and letting me go. Quiet as a light breeze, he slips from the door, leaving Blaise and me alone.

“I don’t like the idea of you taking on the Prinz on your own,” he says quietly.

“I know,” I tell him. “But you can’t very well follow us through the tunnels without being noticed. And I can do it. You said it yourself: Søren won’t hurt me.”

“He will if he thinks you’re trying to kill him.”

“He won’t,” I say, certain of it.

Blaise is quiet for a long moment. “I believe you can kill him, but you shouldn’t have to be the one to do it.”

“It’s war,” I point out. “I won’t lose sleep over it.”

Blaise shakes his head, his eyes heavy. “Yes, you will.”

A lump rises in my throat and I swallow it down. “You really need to go, Blaise,” I tell him. “Søren will be here soon, and I need to change.”

He nods, but he doesn’t make a move to leave.

“Blaise—”

“I’ll go, don’t worry,” he says, hands fidgeting in front of him. “It’s just…we might never come back here, Theo. This is our home.”

His words twist in my chest and I shake my head. “It’s a cage, stained with the blood of too many people we’ve loved. It hasn’t been home for a long time now.”

“Still,” he says, his voice hoarse as he takes a step toward me. “We took our first steps here. We said our first words. This was the last place we were truly happy.”

I hold back tears that threaten to fall. “It’s only walls, Blaise, and roofs and floors. Yes, it’s full of memories, but that’s all they are.”

He stays quiet for a moment, hands coming to rest on my shoulders. He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Be safe,” he says. “And don’t do anything foolish. I’ll see you soon, Your Highness.”

It isn’t until after he’s gone that I realize he’s never called me that before. I’ve always just been Theo with him, but maybe Theo—like Thora—won’t exist for much longer. Soon, all that will be left of me is Queen Theodosia, and as much as I want that, I can’t help but mourn the loss of those other parts of me.

I CAN’T SIT STILL WHILE I wait for Søren. Elpis said that Cress and her father would eat dinner late—usually not until ten—and I instructed Elpis to poison their dessert wine. Heron will get her from the Theyn’s suite to Dragonsbane’s ship. It’s a tight schedule to keep, but unless something goes horribly wrong, there’s no reason I won’t be on the ship by the time the Theyn’s body is discovered. They’ll find Søren’s soon after.

Every part of me buzzes like I’m covered head to toe in Spiritgems. I can’t stop thinking about what I’m about to do. It’s easy to focus on the Søren that Erik painted earlier, the Prinz so eager to earn his father’s respect that he used my people as weapons, but I also remember the boy on the boat who resented his court, the boy desperate to turn his back on it all, the boy who stood up to his father in front of the entire court. The boy who needed me to assure him that he was nothing like his father. How can they both exist in one person?

The knock on the wardrobe comes just after the midnight bell tolls, followed by Søren stumbling out. Though he already seemed like a shadow of himself at the banquet, up close he’s even rougher around the edges. With his shaved head, his face is all sharp, haggard angles. His bright eyes are darker than I remember, sunken deep in his skull. When he looks at me, it feels like he isn’t seeing me at all.

He stands before me broken, and despite everything, I want to comfort him. Because I know what it is to be changed so irreparably and without consent.

“Søren?” I say, taking a tentative step closer.

He can’t know anything’s changed, but I can’t look at him the way I used to, no matter how hard I try. Now when I look at him, I see blood and death. I see the Kaiser. Luckily, he’s too lost in his own anguish to notice, and my voice seems to break whatever spell has come over him. His attention snaps to me, and in a few long strides, he has me in his arms. He buries his face against the side of my neck, the stubble on his jaw scratching my skin. I struggle between his warmth and the thought of the blood he’s drenched in.