“Your father was here, Søren. You gave the order.”

His face blanches. “I didn’t want to. It was always the plan, even before we set sail. He wanted to test them out in a battle he knew we could win so he could then begin selling them to other countries. My father always gets what he wants, you know that better than anyone,” he says. His voice turns pleading as he reaches for my hand, but I pull away as if his touch burns.

He wants my forgiveness again, he wants me to cleanse him of his father’s sins, but the blood is on his own hands this time.

“I do,” I say, looking down at the ground between us. Anger is one thing, but disappointment will wound him worse. “I’ve withstood his wrath time and time again for things I didn’t even do. But I know who I am because of it; I know what matters to me and what I’m willing to fight for. Can you say the same?”

He swallows. “I know that I’m willing to fight for you,” he says quietly.

I don’t doubt that he means it, especially after the banquet. Søren wants so badly to be different from his father. And I wanted this to be easy, one way or another, but I feel like I’m being torn in two.

My dagger presses against the skin of my forearm from where it’s hidden in the sleeve of my cloak, but the weight isn’t uncomfortable as it was earlier. It’s almost welcome, an anchor in a stormy sea and the only thing keeping me from getting lost in the waves. I can’t be taken over by anger, not when there is still so much to do and time is running out.

“Thora,” Søren says, stepping closer to me. This time, I don’t move away. I don’t flinch when he reaches his hand up to touch my cheek. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, how I wish I could go back and undo it. I would, in a heartbeat.”

“There’s no going back,” I say, though I’m not sure if I’m talking to him or myself. I force myself to look up and meet his eyes and let Thora take over, one last time, before I bury my dagger in his back. “It’ll be all right, Søren. We’ll get past it. I know you’re nothing like your father,” I say, because I know that’s what he needs to hear.

Unbidden, the Kaiserin comes to mind, telling me about how she fell in love with the Kaiser, how she never imagined he was capable of everything he’s done. What is Søren capable of? I wonder. What evil will fester in his soul and grow if I don’t kill him now? In a dozen years, he could be worse than the Kaiser himself.

I twine my fingers through the short hair at the base of his skull, pulling him down into a slow and bruising kiss. After a second, he returns it, cradling my face in his hands like he’s afraid he’ll break me. There’s wetness on my cheeks, but I’m not sure if the tears are mine or his. It doesn’t matter, I suppose. For a breath, we’re one person and I feel his sadness as acutely as I feel my own.

As I deepen the kiss, I slide the dagger down my free arm until its handle is clutched tightly in my hand. It takes some maneuvering to unsheathe it, but he’s lost in my arms and his own pain so deeply he doesn’t notice anything. Not until the sharp point of my blade is pressed to his back.

His lips break away from mine and his blue eyes fly open, searching for answers that he discovers quickly. Shock registers on his face, but it’s all too soon replaced by resignation. The lump in his throat bobs as he swallows and gives an infinitesimal nod.

“An inch lower,” he whispers against my lips. When I comply, a smile ghosts across his face, though it doesn’t make it to his eyes. “There it is. Now strike hard and true, Thora.”

I don’t want to see his face when I kill him, but I can’t look away. “My name is…” I break off, taking a steadying breath. “My name is Theodosia,” I say quietly.

Confusion flickers across his expression before clearing. “Theodosia.” It’s the first time my real name has crossed his lips, and it sounds almost reverent. He rests his forehead against mine so that his eyes are all I see. “You know what to do.”

He’s right, I know exactly what to do. It’s the same thing, more or less, that I did to Ampelio—my father. Killing the Prinz shouldn’t be more difficult than that, surely, but in this moment he’s just Søren, the sad-eyed lost boy who once let cats follow him everywhere, who befriended his bastard brother no matter the threat it posed, who kissed me like maybe we had the power to save one another.

And I can’t watch him die any more than I could have watched Crescentia.

The dagger slips from my hand and clatters to the stone floor, echoing around us, and I shove him away. He looks as shocked as I am. He truly thought I would do it, and I’m not sure if I should be proud of that or not.

He crouches down to pick the dagger up and I expect him to press it to my own skin, but he only stares at it for a moment before tucking it into the waist of his breeches. A moment passes in silence before he speaks, his voice quiet but strong.

“You don’t have to forgive me, I don’t expect you to, but I know I need to get you away from here—away from him. We can run away tonight, just like we talked about. I made that promise to you, so please let me keep it.”

My throat tightens so much that I can’t speak, only nod. He thinks he’s safe and I can’t blame him for that. He doesn’t know that Blaise is out there, waiting. I might not have been able to do it, but Blaise will.

* * *

—

A storm whips through the air as soon as we step out of the tunnel. I can’t imagine how Søren is planning on sailing through it, but he seems strangely calm, his face carved white marble in the moonlight. If it weren’t for how tightly he’s clutching my hand in his, I wouldn’t know he was nervous at all. I try not to look at him; I try not to even think about him walking next to me.

It’s too dark to see Blaise’s boat from the shore, but I know it’s out there somewhere in the inky waves.

“My father will send men,” Søren says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “But he doesn’t have many friends among his warriors. I do. I’m hoping that will count for something if we’re caught. But my ship is fast and light. Anything my father sends out for me will be weighed down with a heavier crew and artillery. We’ll outpace them by miles.”

I nod, trying to look placated, but my mind is still churning. I’ll get him on the boat, just far enough away from shore that Blaise will be the only one around to hear me when I scream. He’ll come quickly, and in the meantime I can tell Søren I saw a rat or some similar lie to keep him unaware until Blaise comes on board and slits his throat.

And then…

And then I’ll be free. The thought sends a delicious shiver down my spine. Free is something I haven’t been in ten years. And as soon as I can, I’ll free my people as well.