I try to calm down, but the Kaiserin’s words repeat over and over in my head. I remember the way the Kaiser has been looking at me in recent months. I never let myself think about it, as if that would make it untrue, but I know she’s right. I know how this story will play out.
Tears sting my eyes, and I hastily wipe them away before the others can see.
Heron called me a queen yesterday, and queens don’t falter; they don’t get frightened; they don’t cry.
The door opens quietly and I stiffen, hastily wiping my wet eyes on the back of my sleeve. When I glance over my shoulder, fake smile at the ready, Blaise is closing the door behind him, pulling his hood back.
“Blaise—”
He waves my words away dismissively. “There was no one in the hall, I made sure of it.” His eyes skim over my face and I know I didn’t hide my tears as well as I’d hoped. His hands fidget in front of him and he drops his gaze. When he looks at me again, there’s a softness in his eyes that makes him look like a different person altogether. “What happened, Theo? You’re paler than a Kalovaxian.”
He’s trying to make me laugh, but the sound that comes out of my mouth is halfway between a laugh and a sob. I glance down at my feet, focusing on stopping their shaking. It takes a few seconds and a couple of deep breaths before they still and I trust myself to speak.
“I need a weapon,” I tell him, keeping my voice calm.
He looks taken aback. “Why?”
I can’t tell him. As much as the words claw at my throat, I can’t share this burden. I might not know Blaise as well as I used to, but I know exactly what he will do if I tell him about the Kaiserin’s warning. And if we run, we won’t have another chance to strike out at the Kaiser from this close.
“I just need one,” I say.
Blaise shakes his head. “It’s too risky,” he says. “If anyone were to find it on you—”
“They won’t,” I say.
“Your maid sees you in nothing but your skin every morning and night,” he points out. “Where exactly do you propose to keep it hidden?”
“I don’t know,” I admit in a whisper. Nausea rolls through me again and I sit down on the edge of my bed. The mattress gives as he sits down next to me, his leg not quite touching mine.
“What happened?” he asks again, his voice softer this time.
“I told you,” I say, forcing a smile. “The Kaiserin is mad.” I push thoughts of the Kaiserin and her warning out of my mind and focus on the positives. “My test worked, though. The Prinz cares for me enough to go against his father, even if he did it in a roundabout way. I can get closer and push him harder, I know I can. If we can get him to turn against his father publicly, it will cause a rift in the court.”
As I say the words, a plan begins to form in my mind. Blaise must see where it’s going, because a grim smile stretches across his face.
“A rift,” he repeats slowly, and I can tell that his thoughts are mirroring my own. “A rift like that would become uncrossable if…say…the Prinz were to be killed under mysterious circumstances after confronting his father.”
“Or not so mysterious,” I add. “Certain clues might point to a member of the Kaiser’s personal guard.”
Already I’m thinking of just what those clues might be: a scrap of an undershirt sleeve with the Kaiser’s sigil on it, ripped off in the scuffle, one of the leather ties the Kalovaxian men use to hold their hair back, a Spiritgem that fell out of a scabbard. Of course, to make it convincing, someone would need to pick one of the Kaiser’s guards to frame. His undershirt would need to be ripped, his leather hair tie stolen, a gem pried from his scabbard. Heron could turn invisible and do it easily, so could Art if she were wearing a different face, but being able to control their gifts for ten to twenty minutes won’t be enough this time. They would need gems.
“How would the court react to that?” Blaise asks, half to himself and half to me.
I purse my lips and turn the question over in my mind. “The Kalovaxians value strength, but the Kaiser has grown lazy since Astrea was conquered. He just stays in the palace letting others fight for him. Letting Søren fight for him. The Kalovaxian people love the Prinz—he’s exactly what they think a ruler should be. If they thought the Kaiser killed him, at least half the court would revolt. It’s happened before in Kalovaxian history—a weak ruler being overthrown, a new family fighting their way to the crown. It always starts with a civil war, those who are content with the current regime versus those who are not. We can flee the country after killing the Prinz, and while they pick each other off, we gather enough allies to come back and destroy them all.”
The thought of it causes a smile to rise to my lips.
“Could you do it?” Heron asks from behind the wall.
“Do what?” I ask.
Heron clears his throat but doesn’t answer.
“I think what Heron’s asking is…,” Blaise starts, but he trails off. He opens his mouth and closes it again, dropping his gaze away from me.
“They want to know if you can actually kill someone,” Artemisia says. “But I don’t think they wanted to bring it up, since the only time you’ve taken a life, it was Ampelio’s. I doubt the Prinz will lie at your feet and let you do it, and you can hardly overpower him, can you?”
She has a point, though I’m loath to admit it. “It’s just the next step in a plan we already had in place,” I say instead. “If I could overpower him, do you think the rest of the plan could work?”
The three of them are quiet for a moment. Next to me, Blaise’s eyes are fixed on the wall in front of him, seeing nothing. I can practically see him thinking, running through the scenario in every direction.
“Yes,” he says after a moment.
“It actually could work,” Artemisia admits, sounding somewhat impressed.
“It will work,” I say, my confidence growing. I feel buoyant suddenly, like my feet aren’t quite touching the ground. We can do this—take our country back. Admittedly, there is only a slim chance of it working, but it’s significantly more than it was before, now that we have a plan. It’s a glimmer of hope in the pitch dark.
I don’t let myself think too long about what, exactly, I just offered to do. Søren is my enemy, even if he’s only ever showed me kindness. And now I know what it means to take a life, that it’s something more than a blade and blood and a heart gone still. Now I know that it takes something from you in return.
There is something else nagging at me, too. I clear my throat. “On a separate note, I’ve been thinking about Vecturia a bit more—”