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My heart flutters like a trapped bird in my chest, but I force myself to push the feeling aside before my mind goes searching for meaning where there might be none. There’s too much at stake to let my thoughts wander down paths that lead nowhere.

I head inside, descending the spiral stairwell. Voices drift up from below, but I head straight to my room. I close the door behind me and lean against it, exhaling a shaky breath. The silence of the room feels suffocating as competing thoughts clamor for attention, but the queen’s voice echoes loudest in my mind.

Has that same prophecy given you a sense of self-importance?

She knows about this prophecy that has shaped my life in ways I can’t even begin to grasp.

The imbalance gnaws at me. My ancestor from the Sorrows had believed that knowledge was power, that understanding the world and its secrets was the only way to survive it. He was right.

And yet here I am, turning a blind eye to knowledge that could provide others with power over me.

I press my palms against the cool wood of the door in an attempt to ground myself, but as the mark’s rhythmic pulsing continues, the unease only lingers.

Soft footfalls sound on the other side, and a gentle knock follows.

I push off the door and open it, smoothing a hand over my tunic.

Titaia stands in the hallway, a small cask of wine tucked under one arm and two clay cups balanced in her hands.

“Thought you might need some company,” she says. “But I also figured you’d appreciate wine even more.”

I step back, opening the door farther. “It seems your intuition never fails.”

She enters with that same effortless grace she always carries, heading for the chairs before the fireplace.

“I take it meeting their queen went well,” she says as she sets the cups down and pours the wine.

“What gives you that impression?” I cross the room, accepting a cup she offers.

“You’re still here.”

I laugh, the sound more tired than one of genuine amusement, then settle into one of the chairs. “For now. Count yourself lucky you didn’t have the pleasure of meeting her.”

She hums thoughtfully, then tugs a necklace from the pocket of her pants. The pendant spins, until I glimpse a familiar goiteía for concealment carved into the bronze disc. “Cynna has taken many precautions to prevent that, and this is just one of them. But given how bold Keres has been getting, she still felt it was safer to bring me here.”

I shift my gaze from the pendant, narrowing my eyes on her. “You owe me a story.”

She hesitates, her lips pursing. “I mentioned I was leaving Eretria that night,” she begins, her voice careful. “I said I was heading north with a friend.”

“And that friend was Cynna?”

A dusky blush rises to her cheeks, her gaze darting away as she nods.

“She was still in the infirmary on the night of the ball, and the healers attested to that, so Keres didn’t even glance twice at her when he started taking people in for questioning. She had already asked me to leave with her once before, so when I told her about how our plan to free Sphinx had taken a turn for the worse—which I thought was the reason for Keres’s interrogations at the time—she said she could get me out.” She runs a hand through her curls, pushing them back from her face as a wry smile curls her lips. “I was more than a little surprised when she suddenly sprouted wings.”

“Titaia,” I say with a sly grin, raising an eyebrow, “did you really charm one of your cousin’s potential brides?”

“Yes. But as it turns out, she wasn’t there for him, she was searching for Lyxander. And don’t pretend you weren’t entirely charmed by me as well.”

“Given the choice, I’d choose you over Keres without hesitation.”

“That’s not exactly a high bar,” she says. “But I’ll take it.”

I sip the wine, the warmth of it spreading through my chest. “So, you’ve been in Arkhadia ever since?”

“We’ve been in Kosmos. Silas lives there for much of the year.”

I frown at her mention of Arkhadia’s capital, recalling Silas saying she should have remained there the night they had arrived. Lyxander had not been lying when he said his home was far north, and without having someone point Aerilos out on a map, I could hazard a guess that Kosmos is west from here, farther along the mountain range that embraces the winter kingdom’s borders. But still, his kin and the queen had made it clear the Harpaurai were forbidden from venturing beyond their borders. “He’s allowed to leave?”