She left me. It wasn’t my fault. She left me behind, of her own free will.
“What did I do to end up with a daughter like you?” My father shakes his head. We round the corner and enter the cavernous space of our old family home’s kitchen. Here, my father seizes a butcher knife from the counter. No, don’t, please. “You open your mouth, and out spill lies. Who did you learn that from, hmm, Adelina? Was it from one of our stable boys? Or were you born this way?”
“I’m sorry.” Tears spill down my cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m not lying. I don’t know where Violetta is—” I know I am not a child trapped in my old home. I am in the Estenzian palace, and I am the queen. I want to return to the festivities. Why can’t I wake up?
My father glances down at me. He yanks my arm straight and slams my hand down on the floor. I’m crying so hard that I nearly choke. He positions the butcher knife over my wrist, then brings it back high over his head. I squeeze my eye shut and wait for the blow.
Please let me wake up now, I beg.
The whispers chuckle at my plea. As you wish, Your Majesty.
“Your Majesty? Adelina.”
The hand clutching my arm suddenly loosens its grip. I look up to see that it belongs to Magiano. The kitchen is gone, and I am lying on the floor of the palace’s hall again. Magiano pulls me to him as I continue to sob—even though his expression is concerned, he seems relieved to finally make eye contact with me. I hug him close and cling tightly. My body trembles against him.
“How do you always manage to find the worst hallway to lie down in?” Magiano says, his teasing only halfhearted. He brings his face down to my ear and murmurs something I can barely understand, over and over, until the whispers in my head fade into the shadows.
“I’m fine,” I finally say, nodding against his shoulder.
He pulls away far enough to give me a skeptical look. “You weren’t fine just a few moments ago.”
I take a shuddering breath and wipe my hand across my face. “Why did you come up here, anyway? Did you hear me calling for you? Was it because of what happened outside?”
Magiano blinks. “You were calling for me?” he says, and then shakes his head. His mouth tightens into a thin line. “I’d hoped you would come looking for me.” I search his face, wondering if he is still mocking me, but he seems serious now. For the first time, I realize that there are Inquisitors behind him. There is an entire patrol with him, looking for me.
All of a sudden, I feel tired to my bones. Magiano sees me sag, and he ropes an arm behind me as I do, lifting me effortlessly. I let him. He mutters something to the Inquisitors, and they start to file out. I close my eye after that, content to let Magiano carry me back to my chambers.
Stock—
2 days’ worth black bread
2 days’ worth dried meat
6 days’ worth water
Waste—
12 days’ worth bread, infested
12 days’ worth water, unfit to drink
—From the journal of an unknown soldier during the Battle for Cordonna Isle
Adelina Amouteru
It is for the best that we set sail for Tamoura the next day, under a brilliant blue sky.
The weeks at sea will force me to concentrate on our new mission, to forget about my loss of control over my illusions in the hallway last night. Magiano doesn’t mention it again, either. We go about our business on the ship acting like all is fine; we have strategy meetings with Sergio as if no one remembers my incident. But I know that word of it has spread among my Inquisitors. Now and then, I see them murmuring in the shadows, eyeing me with wariness.
Our queen is going mad, they must be saying.
Sometimes I can’t tell if my madness is what’s conjuring these images, twisting my confidence. So I try to ignore them, as always. What does it matter if I’m mad? I have a hundred ships. Twenty thousand soldiers. My Roses at my side. I am queen.
My new flag is silver and white, of course. In its center is a black, stylized symbol of a wolf, surrounded by flames. I am a creature who was meant to die in fire—but I didn’t, and I want to be reminded of that every time I look at this image. With each passing day at sea, the silver-white flags seem to stand out more and more against the deep, strange gray of the ocean, like a flock of birds heading toward new nesting grounds. One week blends into the next, and then into a third, with stale winds slowing us down and the Falls of Laetes to maneuver around.
At the end of the third week, I stand on the deck of my ship and look back at the sea of ships behind us. Every single one of them flies my pennants. I smile at the sight. The nightmare within nightmares had visited me again last night, this time shifting so that I would wake over and over in my bed on board my ship. It is a relief that my army distracts me from the memory.
“We are nearing Tamouran shores,” Sergio says as he comes to stand beside me. He is dressed in full armor this morning, with knives strapped to his chest and daggers crossed on his back, hilts poking out from the tops of both his boots. His hair is slicked back out of the way, and he looks restless, eager for action. “Do you want me to give the order to change pennants?”
I nod. “Do it.” I, too, am dressed for war. My robes have been replaced with armor, and my hair is tied back in a tight series of braids, a Kenettran hairstyle. I’ve left my Tamouran head wraps behind. It was a tempting thought, flying over Alamour looking like a Tamouran girl—but I want them to know what nation is coming for them.
“As you say, Your Majesty,” Sergio replies.
I glance at him. A deep crease has formed between his brows. Is he thinking about Violetta too? “This time, we will succeed,” I say. At conquering Tamoura. At finding my sister.