His cell. So he must be in the dungeon. And he’s back to the training his father gave him as a child, not eating or drinking when being held hostage. I’m sure they’ll force food and water into him sooner or later, if they haven’t done so already, but he’s making it clear he’s a hostage, not apologizing, not begging for forgiveness.
It wasn’t until she said it that I realized I was worried he might have done just that. For so many years, he followed his father’s orders, even though he knew they were wrong. When he first began to turn toward our side, it was because of me, because he thought he was in love with me and wanted a future where we could be together. Part of me was afraid that now, with him believing me dead, he might go back to who he was before.
But he hasn’t. Maybe it was less about me than I thought. Maybe it wasn’t really about me at all.
I try not to imagine exactly what she’s done to try to convince him. Her father was known for his skill at extracting information and cooperation from prisoners, and the Theyn never had fire at his fingertips to assist him.
“Perhaps he finds his suffering preferable to your company,” I tell her.
The thought has already taken up residence in her mind, I can tell, and now she’ll hear it again and again in my voice. I hope it drives her mad.
Cress only shrugs. If the thought bothers her, she’s careful to hide it. “My father used to say that every person reaches a point where they break.”
“I suppose that’s true enough,” I say. “Though I’d imagine your father thought I reached that point a decade ago, and that mistake killed him.”
“I’m not my father,” she says. “I don’t make the same mistakes—I didn’t underestimate you, and I won’t underestimate Søren.”
She gets to her feet, brushing the ash from the skirt of her gown. Before she leaves, she turns back to me with a sad smile.
“Don’t worry, Thora,” she says. “Once he’s served his purpose, I’ll let him join you in death. Won’t that be a kindness?”
A SCREAM DRAGS ME FROM SLEEP, but it takes a moment to realize that the scream is coming from me. I sit up on my bedroll, out of breath and drenched in sweat, my legs hopelessly tangled in the sheets. The dream clings to the edges of my conscious mind like grains of sand on wet skin—there, but temporary. Already I can feel the details slipping away, no matter how I try to hold on to them.
The tent flap opens and Blaise hurries in, sword drawn, eyes alert and wild. He takes me in, alone and in bed, before relaxing, though he doesn’t sheathe his sword.
“What are you doing?” I ask, half-dazed.
“Artemisia needed sleep,” he says, sounding out of breath. “I offered to take over as your guard for the night, and then I heard you scream. Just a nightmare?” he guesses, though he doesn’t look at me, instead focusing on the ground next to my bedroll.
He’s used to my nightmares. He’s seen the aftereffects of them since he was one of my Shadows back in the palace. But this wasn’t just a nightmare—it wasn’t a nightmare at all, really. There was nothing frightening about it, no sense of horror. I didn’t see my mother’s death, didn’t feel my own looming before me. It was only Cress and me, talking in the gray garden like we have a thousand times before. There was a kind of peace to it, almost.
Because she thinks you’re dead, I remind myself. If she knew I wasn’t, she wouldn’t be so peaceful. She thinks she’s won, that we’ve reached a kind of truce that has left me with no choices, no voice of my own. The kind of truce that has left me her pet once more.
“I saw Cress again,” I tell Blaise, rather than explain all of that to him. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m sympathetic toward her. “She said that Søren is in the dungeon, but she’s going to execute him soon.”
Blaise lets out a labored sigh, shoulders slumping. “Theo…it was a nightmare. That’s all.” He still doesn’t look at me, and when I glance down, I realize why. With all of my tossing and turning and sweating, my cotton nightgown is plastered to my skin, twisted off one shoulder and leaving it bare. I’m sure he’s seen me in less—the dresses the Kaiser made me wear in the palace showed more skin—but this is different. The weight of our last conversation alone settles on my shoulders, so heavy that it’s suffocating.
I shake my head to clear it, pulling the shoulder of my nightgown back up. “It’s not just a nightmare. If you could see it, could feel it, you would understand. I can feel her there, as real as I feel you now.”
“It’s not possible,” he insists.
I bite my lip before telling him about what Artemisia and I learned, about the poison being Cress’s blood. When I finish, he’s gone ashen. I can’t blame him—the thought of Cress’s blood in me is one that I doubt I will ever grow used to.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he insists. “It doesn’t mean you’re sharing dreams.”
“We don’t know what it means,” I say. “But Søren is being kept in the dungeon. He’s not agreeing to marry her, to solidify her claim to the throne, which makes him a threat to that claim instead. She isn’t planning on keeping him alive for much longer. I need you to bring Heron to me so we can get word to Erik.”
Even before I finish, Blaise is shaking his head. “No, you can’t risk ruining Erik’s cover for a hunch that you can’t prove. He’ll find Søren himself when he’s inside the palace.”
“There might not be time for that,” I reply. “Cress knows Erik. She knows he and Søren are friends; she might even know they’re brothers by now. She’ll know that it’s a large part of why Erik changed sides, and so she’ll keep Søren’s location from him for as long as she can. She’ll bait him with it, use it as leverage to get him to do whatever she needs done.”
“You don’t know that,” he says, shaking his head.
“I know her,” I remind him. “I know how her mind works better than anyone else does.”
He’s quiet for a moment, though he finally looks at me, green eyes meeting mine. “Is it what you would do?” he asks me.
I don’t have to think about it for more than a second. “Yes,” I say. “It’s the smart move to make. She’ll know better than to trust a turncoat. She won’t bring him into the fold right away. She’ll use whatever information and force he brings with him—which won’t be much on either count, hopefully—but she won’t trust him. He’ll be treated barely better than a hostage. And more than that, I can’t imagine the Kalovaxians will be keen to accept the Gorakians as allies. She made this truce and so she has to stand by it, but she’ll be looking for an opportunity to go back on it. It’s the only way she can keep the respect of her people, and that’s something she’s struggling with as it is.”