Before the carriage lurched to a stop, I slipped the ring Theodore had given me onto the chain around my neck and huffed a breath thinking about the future I could fund with my collection of engagement jewels. My hair had been washed while I’d been asleep. It smelled of sweet flowers and orange, and I plaited it down my back in a long braid. When I was done my hands had stopped shaking.

As I adjusted on the bench, something sharp poked my thigh. I searched the seat beside me, ran a hand over my dress. I froze at the square of folded paper that I felt in its pocket. A letter. Sealed in green wax, pressed with Theodore’s sigil—a hand wrapped in vines.

My shaking returned as I tore through it. I pressed the paper over my lap to keep it still enough to read.

Immy,

I begin uncertain what to write you. I am overcome by the empty space you have left behind. Please know, I had no intention of leaving you. I was ordered to do so by my council. They said I have forgotten my duty, that I have brought war upon us with my lack of control. Eftan refused to let me give you the binding gown and ring until I threatened to have him permanently removed from the palace.

All this to say, I am adrift.

I am bereft, but I think my purpose is growing clearer than it ever has been. My duty, my desire—they have become one entity. They are both unquestionably tied to you. The absence of you has shown me that, if you will let me, I will happily carve myself open again and pour you back inside me. I cannot see how yet. I don’t know the way. But if you will have me again at the end of all this—even if you won’t—I am yours.

For now, I must do terrible, punishing things to keep my people and you safe. Come back to me and absolve me of them.

Yours unendingly,

Theo

I smoothed a hand over the creased paper, my heart weighty and pained in my chest. “Gods, Theo.” He would completely forgo his duty to his kingdom if I ever returned to him. He would let me utterly ruin him. And yet, if I were honest, that was precisely what I wanted. Eyes burning, I refolded the paper and tucked it beneath my stays, above my breast.

Terrible, punishing things.

The driver pulled us to a stop beside another palace carriage, this one large and drenched in carved golden vines. I choked on a breath. My carriage door swung open, and the footman reached in a hand.

I shook my head. “Is that the king’s carriage you parked us beside?” If he saw me with his ring, in his gown, his scant resolve—and mine—would disintegrate.

“Uhh.” He walked away from me, then returned. “Aye, Your Majesty. It is.”

“What the hell is he doing at the bloody docks?”

The man pushed his lips forward, taking me in with round brown eyes. “I can’t say. Should I find out?”

“No, no, no. I’ll just walk fast. Do you see him?” The man looked left, then right. Then he shook his head. I gripped the little bundle of traveling clothes Theodore had left me and bounded out of the carriage without taking the footman’s hand. “Thank you.”

The docks were crammed and sprawling. Rows and rows of damp wooden planks and a forest of masts surrounded me on all sides. I was swallowed up by sailors and merchants hauling goods up and down gangplanks, their whistles and shouts piercing my ears. Squinting through the sunlight, I read the nameboards on the bows, and when I reached the end of the first run of decking I stopped. The water in the harbor was so blue and clear, so gentle and rolling, that I nearly forgot what swam through it.

A ship in the distance caught my eye. I raised a hand to block the glare. Those were Obelian flags flapping at the top of each of the ship’s four masts. A cluster of ice-blue runes on a sapphire background that had always reminded me of snowflakes.

That was the empress’s ship.

The wedding was currently being prepared for—the entire palace in a spin to see that everything was done and ready. I couldn’t comprehend why the empress would leave just days before her beloved daughter wed, what with her demands and detailed contracts ensuring Halla’s devoted care. All that talk of heirs and allowances and gardens to worship her monstrous saint in, and she was leaving before seeing Halla in her bridal gown.

The ship slunk past the breakwaters and realization struck me. The empress would never have left unless she’d gotten what she’d truly come here for.

Her contracts.

Her trade routes secured, treaties guaranteed. My stomach fell. Theodore must have signed them. For why else would a woman like the empress come all this way south? She could have shipped Halla off to be married on her own, like all rulers did with their children. She did not make the treacherous journey for the love of her child, even if she had sacrificed her husband to have her. Everything the empress did, every choice she made, every order and request, secured her own power.

A chill slithered over my skin despite the warm afternoon. I gritted my teeth at the building pressure in my chest when resounding whoops and cheers drew me in. Behind me, the crowd shifted and fanned out as the metallic clacking of armor sounded. I rose up on my toes and saw a flash of gold.

It was Theodore’s retinue. He must have seen the empress off. Princess Halla’s halo of white hair came first, luminescent as a pearl stolen from the seafloor. The glimpse was quick, as his soldiers soon barred my line of sight. Mindless and foolhardy, I pushed my way to the front of the throng. It was as if my body were being drawn by a magnet, my gaze hungry for a parting view of him.

A boot landed on my toe; an elbow jabbed my sternum. I tucked myself behind a tall, broad dockworker and when I saw Theodore, I lost all sense of pain and place. I evanesced into nothing but yearning. He looked like a myth, as stern and beautiful as the God he’d come from. His soot-colored coat and trousers accentuated the stunning lines of his body. The wind had pulled at a few dark locks, and they waved over his brow. I was close enough to see the green of his eyes, the curving line of his full lips. His mood was gloomy, his head bent down to the decking as he passed.

That weight on my chest crushed down harder. I wanted to scream Look at me, but I drove my teeth together. I stared at his back for one more tight breath before I forced myself away from the crowd of onlookers.

“Imogen?”

I froze, then whirled to see Lachlan, suited in his golden, vine-etched armor. He’d broken away from the procession and taken me in with startled hazel eyes. He closed the space between us in a few long-legged steps.

“I’m leaving. I’m just looking for the—”

He threw his arms around me. His rerebraces and vambraces pinched my arms. His breastplate scuffed my chin.

I grunted. “What the hell are you doing?”

He pulled away and held me by the shoulders. “Glad you’re not dead.”

My brows quirked. “Was I nearly?”

His mouth popped open as some memory seemed to surface in his mind. “Theodore certainly thought so,” he said, somber. “Agatha too. They mourned that first day as if you’d gone.”

I shrugged out of his hold, hating the way my eyes stung. “But not you, right, Commander? Death would have been a much cheaper way to be rid of me, after all.”

His mouth twisted sardonically. “You think I wanted you dead?”

“The lover of your king is your enemy, and all that.” My brows rose. “I almost killed you too, don’t forget.”

“I hadn’t.” He shook his head. “I don’t want you dead. I don’t want Theo miserable, which he currently is. I just need this kingdom whole and safe.” He stared out over the bustling docks. He bore a new burden too. It was in the grim line of his brow, the somber set of his mouth. “How do we see all that done?” I gave my head a resigned shake, which he met with a condescending look. “Come now, you’re the embodiment of a Great Goddess. Ichor in your veins. Stubborn and greedy for what’s yours. You’ll find a way.” He pointed to a ship behind me. “That one.” His half smile left his eyes flat, cheerless. “Goodbye, Imogen.”