“Yes, it’s very impressive,” I say, lifting my hand and summoning my own flame, so large that I can barely contain it. Just as quickly as I summon the flame, I close my hand and snuff it out. “You will let me know if you grow bored of threatening children and want to make yourself a little stronger, won’t you?”
Rigga’s eyes glint, but before she can answer, Lady Ovelgan enters the room again, expression bewildered.
“The servants—” she starts, her voice high with panic.
“Hush, Wilhelmina,” Rigga interrupts, not sparing her so much as a glance. Instead her eyes are focused on me, hungry. “What are you talking about?”
I force my hands not to shake as I draw the vial of Encatrio from the pocket of my dress.
“I was saving this for myself, in case I needed another dose,” I tell her, before pausing. “But I could trade it for the boy. Let him go, and I’ll give it to you.”
Her eyes dart around, but there’s a manic sheen in them. She’s more than tempted by the offer. “And what’s to stop me from just taking it from you?” she asks me.
I hold out my arm, holding the glass vial over the tile floor. “If you try, I’ll drop it,” I say.
“That could kill us all,” Lord Ovelgan says, panicked. “Don’t do anything rash.”
“I’m not,” I say, keeping my eyes on Rigga. “I’m merely giving her the choice. Let the boy go be upstairs with his sisters, out of the way. We’ll stay here, with you, until Cress gets here. You’ll lose your child hostage, but you’ll have enough power to keep us here without one.”
Rigga considers it, licking her cracked black lips.
“No,” she says softly, though the word seems to cost her. “There’s a trick somewhere. It’s not an even trade for you otherwise.”
I shrug. “I have no qualms about staying here with you, Rigga,” I say before gesturing to Erik and Søren. “We were on our way to confront Cress at the palace. In bringing her here, you’re doing me a favor. My only concern just now is that you’re going to hurt that boy. You don’t want to do that. So do us both a favor and let him go, and I’ll give you the potion. Think of how pleased Cress will be, to realize that you’re stronger than she thought you were, that you’re her equal.”
Rigga leans forward, her eyes intent, fingers digging into Fritz’s skin until he cries out in pain. After what feels like an eternity, she releases him, pushing him off her lap. He scrambles for his mother, wraps his arms around her waist, and buries his face in her dress, crying.
“Shh,” Lady Ovelgan says, smoothing his hair. “Go wait with your sisters, all right, my love? I’ll come find you soon.”
With some reluctance, Fritz obeys her, skittering out of the room as quickly as he can. When he’s a safe distance away, I pass Rigga the vial of Encatrio.
“How did you get it?” she asks me, inspecting the opalescent liquid in awe. “It’s exactly the same as what I drank.”
There’s no reason to lie, so I tell her the truth. “Cress gave it to me. She thought I was someone else, someone she wanted to turn. I held on to it in case I needed it.”
The answer seems to be good enough for her. With wild eyes that seem to glow in the candlelight, she unstoppers the poison and pours it into her cousin’s full wine goblet.
“Don’t drink too much,” I tell her, trying to sound concerned. “You don’t know what will happen. Cress and I both managed to drink it all, but you might not be as strong as we are.”
Rigga waves my concern away, taking the words as the challenge I intended them to be. She takes a deep breath and then tips the goblet back and drinks the poisoned wine in a few gulps, before slamming the goblet down again on the table with a thud that echoes throughout the space.
With a rasping, quiet scream, she crumples to the ground, her body writhing in agony as the black mark at her throat begins to spread, burning the skin as it goes.
The only other person I saw drink Encatrio was Elpis, and though I feel no pity for Rigga, I can’t help but think of that now, watching as Rigga’s neck, her chest, and the rest of her body begin to burn from the inside out, turning the air rancid with the smell of charred flesh. It’s difficult to watch, but I don’t let my eyes leave her body until she finally stops moving, well and truly dead.
In the silence that follows, I hear Lord Ovelgan let out a breath of relief.
“Thank you,” he says to me, sounding sincere. “You have our gratitude. You’re free to pass through our lands.”
He says it so magnanimously that I can’t stifle a laugh.
“Of course we are,” I say to him. “After all, they are no longer your lands. They’re mine, property of the Astrean crown, which means that you are the trespassers.”
It takes a moment for my words to register, but when they do, Lord Ovelgan rises to his feet once more. “Guards!” he calls out, but no one comes.
“No one is there,” Lady Ovelgan says, her voice quavering. “That’s what I was trying to say. There are no guards, no servants, no slaves. No one at all in this house.”
“They’ve all been gathered in the village,” I say, before beginning to recount the second half of our plan. Back at the Water Mine, Søren said that the Ovelgans would hear us out, that they would invite us into their home. From then, it became a matter of what we would do once we got here. “Those who put up a fight were killed on the spot, with the weapons my soldiers smuggled in to arm your slaves. Many of my soldiers are Water Guardians, and their weapons were hidden with their illusion gifts. Those who surrendered will be staying here in the village, under close watch of your former slaves, until we can decide what is to be done with them. You are welcome to stay with them, and with your children, so long as you cooperate.”
Lord Ovelgan turns to Søren. “You can’t allow her to do this,” he says, his voice rising. “I’m no ally of the Kaiserin’s. Surely there is an arrangement to be made.”
For an instant, Søren wavers, but he pushes his doubts aside just as quickly. “I don’t allow Queen Theodosia to do anything, my lord,” he says. “You are no ally of the Kaiserin’s, that’s true, and that will be taken into consideration, but you and your wife are still war criminals in the eyes of the Astreans. You have still taken their lands and held the people as slaves, and there are consequences for those actions.”
“And what of you?” Lord Ovelgan demands, his voice becoming a roar. “What are your consequences?”
That gives Søren pause, but after a second, he finds his answer. “I think I’ve begun to pay them,” he says. “And I will continue to do so until the day I die, however my Queen decides I should.”