“We’ll only slow you down,” the other man—Olaric—says, leaning most of his weight against the cell door to keep upright. “But we can keep them busy.”

“You can barely stand,” I point out.

“If your rebel prinkiti could spare a few of his gems, we could certainly hold our own,” Hylla says with a sniff. “Earth for me, Fire for the others.”

Next to me, Søren tenses, knowing he’s being mocked, and I put a hand on his arm to calm him.

“They were sworn to protect my mother,” I tell him in Kalovaxian. “And therefore me. They want to give up their lives to buy us time, but they need gems to put up any kind of fight. One Earth, two Fire. Do you have any?” I ask, though I know he does. I can feel them even now, prickling the air between us. I’ve been around them so often, I barely notice them anymore, but I can always feel them.

He sighs before fiddling around for a moment. The Earth Gem he pries from the hilt of his sword, using the strength it provides him. The Fire Gems are torn from the lining of his cloak. Even in the dim light, they wink like distant stars. He passes them out, but I know he’s not happy about it.

“You trust them?” he whispers to me.

I don’t trust anybody. I certainly don’t trust you.

“Yes,” I say.

“We’ll keep the men busy,” Hylla tells me.

Next to her, Olaric grows a ball of fire in the palm of his hand, just large enough to illuminate the five of us. It’s difficult to tell through the dirt and dried blood covering most of their faces, but they’re younger than their voices led me to believe, a decade younger than Ampelio, at least. They might have been a little older than me before the siege, freshly trained and excited for the life laid out in front of them. I can’t imagine they saw it leading here. When Olaric’s eyes fall on me, the corners soften and he almost smiles. He must have been handsome once, and the kind of man who knew it.

“You look like your mother. Sound like her, too,” he says in Astrean. “When I see her in the After, I’ll give her your regards.”

I want to tell him not to be foolish, that we’ll meet again, but I know better than that. The next time I see them will be in the After, and I hope I won’t join them there for a long time yet. They go into this battle knowing they won’t come out the other side alive.

More people dying for me. And why? What have I done to deserve it?

“Thank you,” I say, and ignoring the stench, I step forward and kiss each of them on the cheek in turn. “May the gods guide you.”

“Long live the Queen of Astrea,” they recite back before Olaric snuffs out his fire again and their footsteps fall away.

I stay rooted to the spot until I can’t hear them anymore. Finally, Søren puts a hand on my waist and guides me forward. For a long moment, he doesn’t speak, but after we turn another corner, he clears his throat.

“I don’t know any of my father’s men who would willingly die for him,” he says. “Your people love you.”

“They don’t even know me,” I say. They wouldn’t lift a finger for me if they knew the things I’ve done. “But they loved my mother more than enough to make up for it.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, and I’m glad, because I’m not sure what I want to hear. The Guardians’ words keep repeating in my mind, burning through me with enough hope to keep me putting one foot in front of the next into an uncertain future. You really are Ampelio’s daughter. You look like your mother. Sound like her, too. Long live the Queen of Astrea.

FOOTSTEPS GROW LOUDER BEHIND US as I wind through the maze of dank, dark hallways, running my hands over the walls, looking for the hidden passageway. The sound is heavy and synchronized. Soldiers. They’re still far away, but they’re approaching fast. Underneath that, I hear the sounds of a fight: shouts of surprise, cries of pain, the thud of bodies landing heavily on the stone floor. Søren listens intently while I search for the hole, more desperate than ever.

“They’re a couple of minutes away,” he says. I can hear the fear beneath his calm. “It’s only a few men—three or four, maybe—but they have dogs tracking us. The rest stayed behind to fight your friends. They aren’t going down easily.”

“And how many can you manage if they catch us?” I ask him.

He hesitates. “Depends on who it is. If it were me commanding, I’d send the strongest ahead. We’re the priority; your friends are just an obstacle. In that case, one or two. If I’m lucky.”

“Those aren’t inspiring odds,” I say, desperately searching the walls.

“Which is why I suggest you hurry,” he says. He fumbles around in his jacket, then nudges my arm with something blunt. I reach out to take it and realize it’s the hilt of my dagger, the one I nearly stabbed him with. “Just in case,” he whispers.

“Thank you,” I say, keeping it clutched in my left hand and going back to feeling the wall with my right.

I don’t remember it being this dark. When I was here as a child, I could see things better. For all I know, we passed the hole ages ago or made a wrong turn somewhere. Memory is such a fallible thing. Still, I drag my fingers over the rough, craggy stones, even as they begin to bleed.

A dog barks, and I don’t need Søren to tell me they’re closing in now. I press on faster, my mind a frantic blur. I must focus. All I can think of is this wall and my fingers. All I can think of is getting out.

The hole is so small I almost miss it. In the dark, I can’t be sure it’s what I remember—but it has to be, because the warriors are so close now that I can almost smell them. It has to be or we are dead.

“Thora,” Søren warns, but I ignore him and draw my dagger.

Unsheathing it, I press the tip into the hole in the stone, pushing so hard I’m worried I’ll break the dagger altogether. The footsteps are so loud I can’t hear anything else, not even the sound of the tunnel door opening.

I fall through it.

* * *

—

I hear the splash before my skin registers the shock of the cold water, but when I hit, it turns my skin to ice. I push myself up on my hands. It’s a stream. Though it’s only a few inches deep, it ebbs and flows, and I suppose it must lead to the ocean.

“Thora?” Søren whispers, stepping in with more grace than I did and closing the door behind him. It’s dark here as well, but there’s some kind of dim light coming from the distance, just enough to see a few inches in front of me.