When we’re mere feet from the shore, Søren’s grip on my hand tightens painfully and he pushes me behind him, trapping me between his body and the cresting waves. Sea spray mists my ankles. I hear them before I see them, boots marching in tandem on the beach, a shout turned to gibberish in the wind, the clatter of swords being drawn from their scabbards. A dozen of the Kaiser’s men approach over the sand dunes from all sides, surrounding us and effectively trapping us between them and the water.

“Go,” Søren whispers, nudging me into the water, toward the ship. I turn and take half a step before stopping short. The waters that were clear only a moment ago are already filling with ships. Even with Blaise lying in wait nearby, I don’t stand half a chance of escaping. And even if I manage to get to Blaise before they catch me, even if we manage to escape them for a time, we’ll lead them straight to where the others are waiting.

I won’t do that. Artemisia was right: I am expendable.

So I stand with Søren and squeeze his hand as the soldiers close in around us, and I let him believe I’m doing it because I can’t leave him behind. Maybe it will earn me a measure of mercy, though I doubt the Kaiser will be moved by the display.

In front of me, Søren forces himself to seem casual as they approach.

“Your Highness,” the head guard says, his voice wary. He’s the guard with the scar, the one Heron decided to frame.

“Johan,” Søren replies, a smile in his voice. “What brings you lot out here tonight?”

But Johan isn’t swayed. “I should ask you the same,” he says. He tries to get a look at me, but Søren blocks him, hiding me from view.

“I had hoped for a midnight rendezvous, but I’m afraid you’ve quite ruined that plan.” He sounds like the petulant prinz I once believed him to be.

“And that wouldn’t happen to be the Ash Princess you’re off to rendezvous with, would it?” Johan asks, sounding like he already knows the answer.

Søren’s grip on my hand tightens, but he keeps his voice easy.

“I don’t see what business it is of yours, Johan, considering that your job is to protect my father. Who is guarding his life right now while you’re out here, interrupting my romantic plans?”

“Your father is protected enough,” Johan says, bristling. “But Lady Thora orchestrated the murder of the Theyn tonight, and we believe she means the same fate for you.”

My heart is pounding in my ears, but Søren doesn’t lose his calm. He must be piecing together the puzzle, though. He must realize my attack on him was part of a larger plan. He must be wondering how far back that plan goes.

But when he speaks, his voice is untroubled. “I can’t imagine that’s true. How could she possibly murder the Theyn when she’s here with me? And the man had no shortage of enemies, as I’m sure you’re well aware. Lady Thora has been under my father’s care for ten years without incident.”

“There are witnesses,” Johan says. “The Kaiser has ordered that she be brought in to answer for it. If she’s truly innocent, let him decree it.”

Witnesses. What kind of witnesses? The idea should terrify me, but I can’t feel anything anymore. Every part of me is numb.

“Because we all know that my father is a reasonable man,” Søren says, growling the words out.

Johan has the good sense to look a touch frightened. Søren’s skills in battle are legendary, and though he might not stand a chance against twenty men, he’ll certainly take out a few on his way down if it comes to it.

I like to think even Blaise isn’t fool enough to try to save me from this, but I can’t say for sure. I hope he’s far enough out that the other ships haven’t spotted him, far enough that he can’t see me like this. But then I realize that he must be. If he could see me, the ground would be trembling.

“Step aside, Your Highness,” the guard says, straightening up. “Or we’ll be forced to arrest you as well.”

Søren doesn’t so much as flinch. He stands firm, planted in front of me like an oak tree. He won’t move because he knows that there isn’t a chance the Kaiser will find me innocent, even if I didn’t do it. He won’t move because he knows that doing so will damn me.

He doesn’t realize that I’m already damned, no matter what he does. He can’t save me from this.

I pull my hand from his viselike grasp and step around him.

“It’s all right, Søren,” I say, and though my voice shakes, I try to sound as composed as he did. “I have nothing to answer for, and I’m sure the Kaiser will see that.”

Søren reaches out to grab me, but one of the guards gets there first, aided by the Air Gems studding his shirt.

“Lady Thora, you are arrested for the murder of the Theyn, and the attempted murder of Lady Crescentia.”

Even as he binds my hands behind my back with stone manacles, relief floods me. Attempted murder.

Crescentia is still alive.

THEY SEARCH ME BEFORE BRINGING me in to the Kaiser, and I’m grateful that Søren didn’t trust me enough to give me my dagger back. They find nothing, but that won’t help me. If Cress survived, I’d imagine she told the Kaiser everything—about my seducing Søren, my stealing her Spiritgems because I was working with others, the treasonous things I said about him in the garden. I’ve become more trouble than I’m worth to him now; he’ll have no choice but to kill me.

But the Theyn is dead. The Theyn is dead. I repeat the words again and again in my mind, waiting for them to feel real. I no longer have to dread seeing him, no longer have to skitter deeper and deeper inside myself anytime we breathe the same air. This is what I’ve wanted—needed—for so long, yet strangely, all I feel is relief that Cress is alive.

How? I wonder. No one survives Encatrio.

As I’m shoved through the door to the throne room, I search the crowd for her face, but she isn’t here. It’s possible she didn’t drink the wine. That’s the only explanation; even a drop of Encatrio would have been enough to kill her. No matter what the guard said, I won’t believe she’s alive until I see her with my own eyes. Considering where today will lead, that doesn’t seem likely.

Maybe I’ll see her in the After one day. Maybe by then we will have forgiven each other.

When we reach the base of the Kaiser’s dais, they push me roughly to my knees and I stare at the gilded carvings that wrap around it. Flames for Houzzah, but this close I can see they are more than that. The arcs of the flames form letters. The letters form words. Astrean words. It’s so subtle I doubt any Kalovaxian would have noticed it. I hadn’t even noticed before.