The whispers become murmurs.

The murmurs become words.

The words become screams.

Thousands of them. Millions. All crying out at once—prayers and pleas and curses and secrets, pouring into me until there’s no room left for anything else. My skull is too small to contain them all.

A sound escapes me—half sob, half whimper—and Alexios’ arms tighten around me in response. He’s not holding me to hurt me now; he’s holding me together.

“Do you hear them?” he asks in my ear. “That’s the smallest fraction of what crawls through my mind every second. Every prayer. Every fear. Every pathetic little whimper from everyone carrying my Claim.”

I try to answer but only manage a strangled whine. His hand slides up from my stomach, fingers encircling my throat in a hold that’s not quite a threat but far from gentle.

“I want you to imagine me going about my duties with this. Tending to the Shroud’s maintenance, spreading tithes through the foundations. Receiving the petitions from my people and making sure their needs are met. Visiting the memorials of the war’s fallen to honor our dead with all this fucking noise. And there you were,” he whispers, “thinking I was just sitting on my ass while you bled.”

His mental presence expands, sinking into my psyche and wrenching. Stars explode behind my eyes as pressure builds in my skull. I can’t contain him. I’m too fragile. Too human.

A raw animal scream claws its way out of my throat.

“Alexios,” Bastien says from somewhere far away, his usual monotone sharper. “Her limits—”

“Are not your concern.” Alexios’ fingers tighten on my throat, not enough to choke, just enough to remind me who’s in control. All of him pressed against all of me. “Our princess wanted to understand what I carry. I’m being generous enough to show her. Aren’t I, little sacrifice? I’m being indulgent, right?”

I’m coming undone. Splintering apart in his arms while he watches. My eyes roll back as his power surges again, and he just hums. Croons. Like he’s soothing a frightened animal.

“Let me show you the Shroud next. My favorite burden. Your ribs will feel it first, I think. Right… here.” His palm flattens against my sternum, fingers splayed wide. “Don’t worry. I won’t let them actually break. This is just… education.”

My chest constricts, invisible bands tightening. I strain for breath. Darkness smothers my periphery, and I’m sure my bones will crack. I dig my nails into his forearms, but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t loosen his grip. His chest rises and falls against my back in that same calm rhythm while I’m suffocating in his power.

“The Shroud spans the breadth of the Duehavn mountains and plunges to the depths of the Rionese,” Alexios continues. “And every competent engineer knows the cost of skimping on the underpinnings. That pain in your chest? It’s a taste of the rot caused by Hellevig’s deficit when all those citizens decided your gates were preferable to the fingerprick I require. You created quite the fucking mess.”

Agony flares through me, and I finally try to speak. “P-Please.”

“So many selfish little leeches,” Alexios says, ignoring me, “gorging themselves on the fruits of my mercy while doing fuck all to shoulder the load.”

“The lesson is done,” comes Bastien’s voice. “Unless you want her brain leaking out her ears before your trials begin.”

For a terrifying moment, I think Alexios might rip me apart just to prove he can. His breath comes faster against my neck.

Then suddenly, blessedly, he withdraws.

The silence crashes over me. I scramble off his lap, the marble floor tilting beneath me. Then my stomach heaves. I double over and retch until my throat burns.

The stench of vomit clogs my nostrils. I stare down at my own sick, watching it blur and swim before my eyes.

“That,” Alexios says from behind me, “is a fraction of what I endure. Every single day, without rest or reprieve.” A rustle of fabric as he rises. “You think I lounge because you can’t fathom what goes into keeping this realm and yours at peace. The sacrifices I make. The cost.” He reaches my shoulder and leans down. “So consider very carefully,” he whispers in my ear, “how much longer my patience will last if you continue pushing me. And act accordingly.”

Then he’s stalking toward the arched doors. “Blade,” he calls without looking back, “get her to the nearest toilet. She’ll be vomiting again in roughly three minutes.”

“Fuck,” Bastien mutters, hauling me up. “He chose to stop. I failed to account for mental trauma in your negotiations. Remember that.”

Alexios was only off by thirty seconds.

*   *   *

An hour later, I step onto one of the palace balconies, wincing as sunlight reflects off the snow.

My head still pounds, but my stomach has settled. Bastien grudgingly brought me bread and tea after I cleaned up and changed. I’m wearing a pair of loose trousers and a plain shirt brought to me by the palace servants—too thin to keep me warm. Freezing to death would be a convenient end for me, I suppose.

The mountains loom in the distance, their jagged peaks obscured by wispy clouds. Far below, a half-frozen river snakes along the passes, glimmering like molten silver.

Alexios stands motionless at the railing as he stares out over his territory, his red and black feathers ruffling in the chilly breeze. I can’t help but study him, knowing that he’s enduring the clamor of human thoughts and the crushing force of the Shroud. The Eternal of Asteria hides his pain like a secret.

I step up beside him. “How much did you bleed for it? How much of yourself did you carve out to keep the realms from killing each other?”

His eyes slide to mine as he considers me. I hold his stare, refusing to fidget beneath that ancient, unsettling regard.

“Everything I was,” he says. “And a good portion of what I might have been.” He turns back to the view. “I can’t take a Chosen, for example.”

I blink. “You can’t?”

“No.” A muscle flickers in his jaw. “Soulbonds don’t allow for both. It’s either one Chosen or thousands of Claimed, so I chose.”

“Your people over yourself.”

“Over everything.” His laugh is bitter. “You want the truth? I’m the oldest living Eternal, and I’m still young by our standards.” Something dark passes over his face. Something raw. “There should be elders waiting for me to mature before passing on their knowledge and choosing to be unmade. Instead, they’re all dead, and I’m left with their territories and their people and every fucking problem they left behind. Not to mention two young Eternals who’ve spent centuries more interested in slaughter than rulership that I’m responsible for. So, yes. I choose everyone else over what I want because that’s the burden I inherited when your people butchered mine.”

I flinch before I can stop myself. Wind tears at my hair, sending strands whipping across my face. I reach up and tuck them behind my ear with hands that aren’t quite steady.

“And if things were different?” I venture, careful. Tentative. “Would you want a Chosen?”

His fingers clench on the railing. “Speculating on impossibilities is a waste of time. I knew exactly what I was sacrificing when I signed the Accords with Amalthea.” His smile holds no warmth as he straightens and looks at me. “Another hour to collect yourself, or can we begin?”

“Let’s get this over with.”

Alexios raises his hands, power crackling around him. The scent of ozone fills the air as lightning skitters over his fingertips.

Then the ground trembles.

I gasp as branches erupt from the frozen landscape—thorns and twisted briars spreading across the ground in a violent surge. Consuming the landscape in blackened branches with silver leaves sharp enough to slice flesh. The branches twist and reach and knit together, forming walls that stretch to the horizon.