“I’m fine,” I say, taking his hand and climbing to my feet.

I step back through the water to listen at the sealed door, Søren at my side. I can hear warriors thunder past. It’s only seconds before the dogs double back, stop, and begin barking and snarling on the other side.

One of the warriors shoves against the wall and Søren grips my hand in his. I can nearly feel his pulse racing, and I squeeze back just as tightly.

The door holds, not giving so much as a breath, and the warrior curses at the dogs, trying to drag them away, but they don’t budge.

“Leave them,” another warrior says. “This deep in, the dogs lost the scent, but there’s no way out. She can hide, but we’ll find her before sunrise.”

The footsteps hurry away and I feel Søren relax next to me, though he doesn’t let go of my hand.

“Come on,” I whisper, setting off down the tunnel.

The icy water gets deeper with each step, soaking my skirt and legs. Before long, we’re in knee-deep and my legs are numb. I don’t remember having to swim out of the tunnel when I was a child. Blaise and I walked right out to the shore, never going deeper in than our ankles. But that must have been low tide.

“You’re shaking,” he says, and I realize I am. The air is even colder than it was in the dungeon, and my dress is soaked. “Take my cloak.”

Ever the gentleman, I think before putting a hand out to stop him. “I’d imagine you’ll need it soon, too.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insists, sliding it from his shoulders and passing it to me.

I hold it gingerly in my arms. The lining of the coat is studded with Fire Gems, I remember, a perfect way to stay warm in the winter. I’ve gotten used to ignoring the draw over years of being surrounded by them, but this close, the power calls to me. It buzzes through my blood and mind. If I wore the cloak, I could be unstoppable. All those Fire Gems, all that power.

We come to the fork in the tunnel: the water rushes to the left—the side that must lead to the ocean—but the other side inches uphill. That way goes to the throne room. The Kaiser is surely there, and he surely knows I’ve escaped by now. I can see his face—that furious, bloated red face—as he sits on my mother’s throne and blusters threats at his guards.

How simple would it be to start a fire? I haven’t tried it, but I’ve seen Kalovaxians light fireplaces with the aid of a few Fire Gems. It can’t be that difficult, especially since I have the blood of Houzzah in my veins. I imagine watching the fire grow and grow and swallow the palace and everyone in it who ever hurt the people I love. For an instant, I think about ending this now. I could do it; it would even be easy, but it would cost me.

In one act of sacrilege, I would give up my chance to see my mother and Ampelio again. The gods would damn me, and they just might damn my country as well. I don’t know if I believe that. I can’t help but think about Artemisia and her lack of belief in the gods. After everything my country has suffered, I don’t know if my mind believes in them anymore either. But I can still feel them in my heart, in the stories my mother told me. I want to believe in them.

“I can’t take this,” I tell Søren, though passing the cloak back is one of the hardest things I’ve done. He frowns. “Why not?”

“The gems. I…” I trail off. Now is not the time to explain, but I have no choice. “They are only meant to be handled by someone who has earned them, and never so many. Guardians spend years studying and worshipping in the mines for the privilege of carrying a single gem. Using one without proper training…it’s sacrilege.”

“But aren’t you supposed to have the blood of a fire god in your veins? If anyone can use it—”

I shake my head. “My mother always said that we rulers were the last people who should have that kind of power. I never understood it before, but I’m starting to.”

Søren hesitates, still holding the coat out to me. “You’ll freeze without it,” he says. “The water is only going to get deeper, and if my navigation skills are what I think they are, we should emerge close enough to the boat that swimming will be our best chance to avoid attention. You didn’t come all this way to freeze to death.”

“I’ll survive,” I tell him.

He holds the coat out for another second before realizing that I’m serious. He starts to shrug it back on, but stops halfway and takes it off again. He holds it out to drop it, but I stop him, my hand on the cloth. Even through the thick wool, I can feel the pleasant hum of the gems rush through me again. It’s dizzying, but I try to ignore it and focus.

“We might need that,” I say. “If we manage to liberate the mines, there will be some Guardians there and they’ll need gems. We need as many as we can get now.”

He nods, taking the cloak back and hanging it over one of his shoulders.

“These allies of yours…,” he starts.

“You’ve seen some of them,” I say. “My Shadows for the last few weeks.”

Søren frowns. “Your Shadows?” he echoes. “What happened to the other ones?”

“Killed,” I admit.

The water is up to my waist now. It’s beginning to lick at my freshly opened wounds, stinging them so painfully that I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out. I know it’s cleaning them as well, but that doesn’t make it hurt less. The light ahead is getting stronger.

“I’m tired of death,” he says finally. “When I killed the guards…it didn’t even faze me. I didn’t think twice about it. I don’t even feel guilty. What kind of person doesn’t feel guilt over killing?”

“Someone who’s done it too many times,” I say. “But you don’t need me to tell you that it was necessary.”

“I know,” he says. “It just feels like every time I do it, even in battle, I turn a little bit more into him.”

I don’t have to ask who he means.

“You aren’t your father, Søren,” I tell him.

I’ve said the same words to him a few times before, but each time I think he believes them less, even as I believe them more.

He doesn’t answer me, and we lapse into silence as we wade deeper and deeper, each lost in our own thoughts. Blaise will have told the others my plan by now. How are they reacting? Not well, I imagine. Artemisia will scowl and roll her eyes and make some snarky comment. Heron will be subtler, but he’ll wear his quiet disapproval in the crease of his brow, the twist at the corner of his mouth. I can make them understand, though. It’s the right move.