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Back in my room, I went straight to the Adept-forged box on my bureau and pressed my thumb to the metal lock until it glowed. The small chest sprang open to reveal a row of glass bottles of tonic. Snatching one up, I sank into my chair, pulled the cork with unsteady hands, and downed the entire flask. My mouth flooded with the familiar, bitter taste even the tonic’s generous portion of honey couldn’t override. I closed my eyes and swallowed it down. The tonics weren’t a cure for my condition—nothing was—but they eased its symptoms, and they were more palatable than the countless treatments various apothecaries had forced on me before it became clear that my ailment was intermittent but permanent.

“You shouldn’t be taking so much in one day. It isn’t safe.”

I choked, nearly inhaling tonic, and twisted in my chair. Julieta had come in without my notice, her steps nearly silent on the rug. After years of my apothecary’s service, I ought not to be startled by her discreet movements, but I still jumped every time she appeared from the shadows without warning.

I grimaced at my reflection in the polished silver mirror. “I know. I’ll take less if my condition’s still flaring tomorrow.”

“You’d better. Too many doses at once, and you’ll make yourself unwell.” Julieta plucked the empty bottle from my hands and replaced it with a cobalt glass brimming with water.

“How? By giving myself stomach pains?” I sipped at the water, clearing the tonic’s acrid taste from the roof of my mouth.

“Very funny, your Grace.” Julieta moved to stand behind my chair. I watched her in the mirror as she took the pins from my hair and laid them on the polished wood one by one, neat as a row of infantry. Everything about her was precise: the coif of her hair, the sharp lines of her livery, the economy of her words. “I mean it. It’s my job to keep you safe. Including preventing you from poisoning yourself.”

“I know. Thank you.” I set down the water, repentant. Meeting with my parents had put me in a dour mood as always, but I didn’t need to take it out on my staff. Julieta was a friend as well as a servant. Sometimes, though she was only fifteen years my senior, Julieta felt like more of a mother to me than my own. She was certainly more affectionate.

“Julieta,” I said. “How would you feel about accompanying me to Gildenheim?”

Her hands stilled for the briefest moment. I watched her face in the mirror, but the only change in her expression was a slight tightening around the corners of her eyes.

“I take it my lady is marrying the new king.”

My brows drew together. “How did you know? My parents only informed me of the treaty this afternoon.”

Julieta hesitated for the span of a heartbeat. “The palace gossips, your Grace, and I have ears.” She removed the last of the pins, freeing the dark length of my hair to tumble around my shoulders.

Of course the palace gossiped. I ought to know that better than anyone, after my own mistake a decade ago. I grimaced.

“You don’t have to decide now,” I said. “I wouldn’t ask you to give up your life here if you don’t want to.”

“Of course I’ll go, your Grace,” Julieta said quietly. “You know I would do anything for you.”

A knot of emotion swelled in my throat, threatening to choke me. I worked to keep my face blank. Emotion was not one of the nine Virtues; and revealing my feelings, as my mother had recited endless times, was a vulnerability anyone could exploit.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice level.

Without warning, a fist thundered on the door to my chambers, loud as a warhorse’s hooves. Julieta and I both flinched. An instant later the door flew open and Tatiana stormed in, a whirlwind of rose-colored skirts.

“I’ll finish this, Julieta,” she said, swiping the comb from my apothecary’s hand. “You can take the rest of the evening off.”

Julieta shot me a glance. I nodded, resigned. Arguing with my sister was, at best, a waste of breath.

As my attendant slipped out the servants’ door, Tatiana stationed herself behind me, brandishing the comb like a weapon. My scalp already stung in anticipation.

I watched my sister in the mirror, bracing myself as she tackled my hair with alarming zeal. Although I’d been born nearly a year after Tatiana, we were often mistaken for twins: we shared the same soft features, olive-toned skin that bronzed easily in summer, dark waves of hair, and umber eyes—although her irises, unlike mine, were spangled with the gold flecks that identified those who had manifested the ability to channel magic. At the moment, her eyes were bright with anger, and her jaw was set with a determination I knew all too well.

I winced as the comb snagged on a knot. “Since when do you have any interest in combing my hair?”

“Since when do you agree to marry a foreign king without even talking to me first?”

“So our parents told you already.”

“Of course they did. Why didn’t you tell me first?”

“Ow!” I ducked away from her. “Virtue of Restraint, Tatiana. You’re going to make me bald.”

“Maybe your fiancé will like that.”

I twisted to face her, nearly getting a comb to the eye for my efforts. “Why are you so angry? It’s not as if you wanted to marry him.”

Tatiana set the comb down on the bureau with an aggressive click. “Maybe because I don’t want my sister going off to marry a man she doesn’t want?”

I stiffened. “It’s my choice, Tatiana. Gildenheim is threatening war. It’s my duty to—”

“Yes. Your precious duty. ” My sister’s tone torqued towards mockery. “You don’t always have to do what’s expected of you, you know. You’re allowed to choose things for yourself, not just because our parents decide they benefit our House.”

Now annoyance simmered in my chest, stirring old resentment. It was easy enough for Tatiana to warp my decision into something I’d done wrong when our parents were happy to ignore the aspects of her that didn’t serve them, in favor of the parts that did. As if she weren’t perfectly aware that in the absence of magic or health, duty was all I had to offer.

“Duty is not a choice.” My voice was level, though I knew my sister would detect the heat below its surface. “But if it were, I would choose it anyway.”

“Of course you would, little bee. And do you think our parents don’t know that? That they don’t take advantage of your sense of duty?”

Now I didn’t bother to hide my scowl. Tatiana knew I hated that particular nickname. A good little bee, she liked to call me, a dutiful worker in the hive. She’d used that taunt since I was fifteen years old and had my heart broken for the first and only time.

“This isn’t the same as what happened with Catalina,” I retorted. “And why would you care, anyway? It’s not you they asked to marry him.”

All at once, Tatiana’s anger vanished like a candle snuffed out. She leaned against the bureau, scattering Julieta’s neat array of pins.

“I know,” she said. “And I know you’re not being forced into this at knifepoint. But our parents are still pressing this marriage on you, Bianca. And they would have sent me instead without hesitation if they thought I was better suited for the role. They don’t give a horse’s ass about us as daughters. We’re just pieces to be moved around a board.”

I didn’t contradict her. “So you think I should refuse, and let the treaty fall apart?”

Tatiana fidgeted with one of my hairpins, her face a summer storm. “No,” she said sharply. “And that’s why I’m angry. Because this isn’t right, but there’s no refusing it anyway.”

I took the pin from her fingers before she could bend it out of shape. “It’s all right, Tatiana. I’ll be a queen. And the new king is only twenty-eight. I’ve seen his portraits—he’s even moderately handsome.”

Not that this meant I would have any attraction to him in person. Portrait artists were paid to craft flattering lies, and pictures said little about what lay beneath the surface. It was entirely possible that in reality, Aric was both hideous and cruel. But sharing those thoughts with Tatiana wasn’t going to alleviate her fears, and it was only serving to worsen mine.

“It will be fine,” I said again, for both our benefits. “I’m marrying him to broker a peace treaty, after all. And I’ll have a retinue of guards and Julieta with me.”

Not Tatiana. The thought was a sudden twist in my abdomen, like the start of one of my flares. True, my sister and I fought vi ciously and often. But we’d spent almost every day of our lives together, and there was no one who knew me better—no one else with whom I could speak the fullness of my thoughts without restraint. This marriage meant I would truly be separated from her for the first time in my life. Not just for a few weeks while she accompanied one of our parents on an ambassadorial foray, or the single month she’d lasted in Adept training before all parties quietly agreed to exempt her from the mandated nine years of instruction in exchange for House Liliana’s generous support of the Guild. With the exception of occasional visits, this separation was forever.

Tatiana was looking at me like I’d grown an extra pair of legs. I dredged up a smile to quash both of our misgivings. “The change of scenery will be good for me. No one in Gildenheim knows about my condition, and I intend to keep it that way. Consider it a fresh start.” I raised my eyebrows meaningfully. “And no one says a marriage can’t have benefits.”

Seas knew I would like a partner I could afford to sleep with more than once. I was tired of selecting my rare bedmates not only for their lack of attachment, but for their discretion.

“Hmph. Well, at least it will be harder for our parents to nag at you from the other side of the mountains.” My sister sighed, her doubts still obvious. “I’m not going to change your mind about this, am I?”

“No.”

Tatiana smirked. “Then it’s a good thing I already finished your birthday present.”

My sister dug a hand into her pocket. My brows drew together in confusion.

“I’m not leaving yet. And my birthday isn’t for another two months.” I would be married by then. Only an hour ago, I hadn’t yet been betrothed. The thought was dizzying.

“I know. But you need it more now, so you’re welcome.”

From her pocket, Tatiana pulled out a small bag crafted from imported Zhei silk—a product of the oceanic trade that, alongside Adept magic, had lifted Damaria to power. She upended it to spill its contents into her palm: a silver pendant on a delicate chain. Even from this distance, it emanated a subtle hum of power.

I reached for the pendant, but she held it away from my grasp. “Not so fast. You mustn’t set it off by accident.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, suspicious. “Explain.”

Tatiana came behind me to fasten the chain around my neck. The pendant fell below my collarbones, as refreshingly cool as late spring rain. A locket, I saw now—an oval piece of silver, worked in delicate filigree. The design on the front was a single lily, evoking the emblem of our House.

“It’s a protection charm,” Tatiana explained. “Well… protection of sorts. It’s a bit experimental.” In the mirror, I watched her gaze become evasive. “Don’t open it unless you’re in grave danger.”

I brushed my fingers against the rapidly warming silver. Cautiously. “This isn’t illegal, is it?” Even Tatiana wouldn’t dabble in something as dangerous as working with living beings—a practice the Adept Guild had outlawed over a century ago—but her creations often strayed from the approved applications of light, heat, and metal.

Tatiana shrugged, all innocence. “Legal is a matter of perspective.”

“Tatiana.”

She sighed. I was spoiling her game. “No, it’s not strictly legal, but the best spells aren’t.”

My hand sprang away from the locket. Rolling her eyes, Tatiana moved my hand back into place.

“Relax, little bee. I made sure to give it limits. It’s a device to defend yourself against an attacker.”

“I’m going to Gildenheim to keep the peace. There’s no reason I’d be attacked.” Still, the possibility sent a frisson of fear through me. The late queen’s death had been so sudden. The Council’s spies reported that some of the royal family’s more distant branches had discussed attempting a coup following her demise. And come to think of it, hadn’t the queen’s spouse died surprisingly young, when my betrothed was still a child?

My betrothed . Seas, I was an engaged woman now.

“Well, you can’t be too careful. They say their royal family can cast spells with blood—it can’t hurt to have a little magic of your own.” Tatiana lifted my hair free of the chain, so that it fell in waves down my back. “But truly, don’t open it unless you need it. It only works once.”

I folded my hand around the locket, mindful to keep it closed.

“Thank you,” I said, the words thick in my throat. “I hope I never have to use it.”

Against my will, my eyes felt tight, hot with tears I had no desire to shed. I shouldn’t be so emotional. It wasn’t as if I were riding off to my death. It was just a marriage.

Tatiana wrapped her arms around me from behind, resting her chin on my head.

“If you ever need me,” she said, “I’ll come, and blast our parents to the bottom of the sea if they try to stop me. Even if you just need someone to argue with.”

I crossed my hands over Tatiana’s, while my chest rose and fell within the circle of her arms. We sat in silence as our breathing slowly synchronized. We fought more than we expressed our love, but I never doubted it was there.

“This isn’t goodbye,” I said finally. “You know I’m not leaving yet.”

“I know.” Tatiana rolled her eyes. “So don’t you dare get all sentimental on me.”

I choked out a laugh. But despite the assurance I’d just given her that this wasn’t the end, I couldn’t help the feeling that it was.