The interior presses in from all sides. My chest constricts. Some distant part of my mind registers the first stirrings of panic.

“Stop that,” Idris says sharply.

I blink. “Stop what?”

“The dramatics. There’s no use for it.”

Right. Silly me. How dare I have an inconvenient feeling about the Eternal completely screwing me over.

“Let’s go!” Idris bangs twice on the roof.

With a sudden lurch and a grinding of wheels, the carriage moves over the cobblestones. I watch the palace walls slide past, the ground still littered with crushed flower petals and muddy ribbons from my ruined wedding. What a waste.

Idris folds his arms and leans back, tapping the toe of his boot against the floorboards in a restless beat as the carriage rattles through the streets. Despite the early morning, crowds have already amassed along our route.

Princess Bryony! Princess!

“What if Alexios doesn’t agree to undo my mark?” I ask, keeping my face hidden behind the curtain.

Idris lets out a rough sigh. “We’ll handle it, whatever it takes. The empire is bigger than one girl’s mistakes.”

My mistakes?

“I’m being punished for your failures,” I say.

And there it is. That look. The one that says he’d like nothing more than to wrap his hands around my neck and squeeze until I stop making noise.

“I don’t want to discuss this with you, Bryony. Clearly, the Eternal thinks you hold some responsibility.”

“Theo tried warning you, but you didn’t listen. You never listen. You’re always too busy pouring more wine down your throat.”

A muscle flickers in his jaw. “You and your sister have no idea what I do for the Accords. How many dead Devaliants do you think I’ve had to arrange? How many bodies I’ve dressed and posed so our citizens don’t see our family’s decline?”

I flinch, my breath too quick and shallow.

“If you knew how many lies I’ve told, how much shit I’ve eaten to keep up the front that we’re just a tragedy-prone family…” His lips twist as he gestures to the crowds along the road. “You can’t hold an empire if they all know you’re rotting.”

I flash back to that terrible morning in the forest when they discovered Father’s body. Idris was pale, his hands shaking as he brushed my hair from my face.

Don’t look, he’d said.

He’d seemed… small. Diminished. And beneath the shock, there’d been a flicker of something bleak and resigned.

Take her inside, he’d ordered my sister, his voice distant. And don’t let her see.

The court had whispered. What had caused Emperor Titus’ sad end? They theorized, of course. Ugly rumors about his mental decline and even uglier whispers that maybe Idris had killed his brother for power.

My uncle acted quickly. A tragic hunting accident, he’d told the broadsheets. The emperor’s horse had spooked and thrown him against a tree. If people speculated after that, they did so privately. But in public, Luceni had accepted it as another Devaliant tragedy.

The shouting crowd draws my attention. The guards line the road, pushing everyone back.

Princess Bryony! Princess!

I force a smile and wave. A father hoists his daughter on his shoulders for a better look, and I blow her a kiss. It’s what Theodora would advise. Act normal. Don’t let them think anything is wrong.

Idris gives a bitter chuckle. “Even with your life going to shit, you still show up for them. That’s why they love you. Odessa had that gift, too, remember? That ability to wrap people around her finger.”

Tears sting my eyes. It’s been a year since Idris’ daughter stepped off the palace balcony.

“I’m showing them we care,” I say. “You might want to try it sometime. Wouldn’t your daughter want you to?”

His lips flatten. “You don’t know what it’s like to outlive your child and lie about her death. So spare me the accusations and the judgment. I’ve done more than enough. Maybe you should have done less.”

“I never asked for them to love me.”

A silence descends between us, punctuated by the clatter of wheels and the shouts from outside. Then Idris sighs. “That’s the edge we walk, isn’t it? Give them nothing, and they’ll despise you. Give them everything, and they’ll destroy you. Either way, we bleed. The most we can hope for is a cut that kills us quickly.”

He reaches out to tap my knee. As if that awkward touch can somehow encompass the breadth and depth of what we don’t say. All the hollow spaces the dead leave behind.

Our driver stops the horses at the base of the temple steps. Idris climbs out and takes my hand, half dragging me inside. It’s still too early for tithes to begin, and the inner sanctum is empty. The only sounds are the rasp of my exhales, the erratic thud of my pulse, the echo of our footsteps.

“Just breathe,” Idris mutters.

He leads me down the corridor, and we duck through a low doorway into a cramped room cluttered with old books and wingback chairs. The space is windowless, lit only by guttering candles. The Head Oracle is reading at a table, face hidden by the black veil.

“That girl is not welcome again in this temple,” she says, snapping the book shut. Her veil flutters with an agitated breath. “Get out.”

Idris grips my arm harder as if to prevent me from bolting. “I’m your emperor. When I give you a command, you do it. I want you to contact Alexios about my niece’s mark.”

Not so much as a twitch from the Oracle. “Sit.” I can’t tell who she’s addressing until she crooks a finger in my direction. “Here. Now.”

I sink into the chair.

The Oracle seizes my wrist and yanks my arm closer. I’m frozen, watching as she traces her finger over the ugly gash cutting Alexios’ mark in half. Inspecting her god’s handiwork.

And then I feel it—a foreign presence slithering into my mind. The Oracle. She shoves past my flimsy mental walls like they’re nothing.

Memories flash: the child asking for my blessing, the crowds outside the palace gates, the offerings they threw at my feet instead of visiting the temple. Echoing chants, the roar of blood in my ears. Smothering. Hungry. All those voices calling my name. Then—

Emptiness. Alone in my head again, the connection severed.

The Oracle hums, a slow, considering noise. Speaking with Alexios, probably. Figuring out exactly how worthless I am to him now.

“Well?” Idris taps his fingers against his thigh. “Can it be undone?”

She shakes her head. “No. Once Eternal Alexios makes a judgment, he won’t be swayed. Your niece’s fate was sealed the moment the masses decided a Princess of the Blood was more deserving of their devotion. Her life belongs to him. It always has.”

Her words knock the wind out of me. I’ve been abandoned by the god who was supposed to protect me. The god my family has served for generations. The god I bled and died for. I knew, of course. But hearing it out loud is a different thing entirely.

“There has to be something.” Idris paces the room. “A tithe. A sacrifice. Tell him to name his price.”

The Oracle slaps her palm against the table, rattling the candlesticks. “I’m not one of your courtiers or bootlicking lords, so don’t presume to command me. I’m the Head Oracle of Hellevig. My bloodline traces to an Eternal who walked these realms before Alexios drew breath.”

“Killing her would destabilize the city,” he says, running his hands through his hair. “The people adore her—they’d riot in the streets!”

“Gods grow weary of empires.” The Oracle shrugs. “They rise, they fall. Alexios will be alive long after your pitiful empire is dust and memory.”

I can’t breathe. My lungs won’t work. I can barely focus on their words through the roar of my heartbeat.

Idris pauses, giving me a considering look. “He’ll accept Bryony’s death as recompense?” he asks the Oracle, keeping his stare on me. “Swear it.”