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My shoulders slumped. I didn’t know what I’d hoped to find—a message, maybe. Something I could use. Some reassurance that I’d done the right thing.

“I’m sorry.” The hostler plucked at her cuffs. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but… you look like you’ve lost something important.”

In my despair, I’d nearly forgotten she was in the room with me. I forced myself to look up at her, to clear the utter dejection from my voice. “What’s your name?”

Her brows lifted in surprise, and she stood straighter. “Alicia. Not that anyone usually asks. I’m only a servant.”

“Alicia,” I repeated. “Thank you, Alicia. I’ll remember.”

She laughed, as if my remembering was an amusing thought, then caught the laughter behind her hand—swiftly, as if she expected to be slapped for impertinence.

“Is there anything else you need in here?” she asked.

“A little time, if it won’t get you in trouble. I won’t disturb anything. I just need to think.”

I must have spoken more like a noble than I intended, for Alicia’s posture abruptly changed. She dipped her head and retreated a step.

“Of course, milady,” she said, her tone suddenly deferential. “And…”

I waited, an invitation.

“I do hope you can save them,” she said in a rush. “Your sister and the king.”

Suddenly, tears pressed hot behind my eyes. It was all I could do to prevent them from flowing.

“Thank you,” I managed, and then the door clicked shut and I was alone.

For an endless moment, I didn’t move. Then I slumped onto the settee, staring fruitlessly at the useless poker. Despite my best efforts, tears burned my eyes again. This time, I didn’t try to hold them back. I let them tremble and fall.

Some scion of House Liliana I was now. Racked by tears in a roadside inn, dressed in tattered, travel-stained clothing without a coin in my purse. And worse than my ignoble appearance, I’d dropped my shields. My despair, my weakness, my vulnerability, all were there for anyone to see and exploit. Everything my parents had feared had proved true: I wasn’t strong enough, and I had failed. The only blessing was that no one was here to witness the wreckage I’d become. I was, for the first time in my life, well and truly on my own.

I dragged my sleeve across my eyes. My sister was a captive. My husband was sold as horseflesh. A usurper was poised to take the throne of Gildenheim, and war hovered on the horizon. I’d failed at every last thing I’d come here to accomplish. The only thing left to do was return to Damaria in defeat. Whatever my parents thought of my failures, they would have agreed: better to lose one daughter than two, even if the second was a disappointment. Even Aric would agree I should run. He’d told me so himself.

The road lay plain before me. I would leave this inn; drag myself the last few miles across the border; use my rank to commandeer aid; and return to the palace, where my parents would use the full political might of the Council of Nine to negotiate a truce with Varin and free Tatiana. There wasn’t a hope of stopping Varin from being crowned or restoring the original treaty. But my sister, at least, I could fight for.

It was the right choice. The clear one. The choice defined by duty. I’d been born and raised to make decisions like this, sacrificing my own desires to save the lives of many.

Sacrificing my retinue. Sacrificing Aric.

My nails dug into the blood magic scars on my palms. I sucked in a shuddering breath.

As much as I wished I could ignore it, this was part of my duty, too: acknowledging the consequences and following them to their conclusion, however painful. I could picture all too well what would happen next. My guards would be executed, Julieta along with them. As for Aric, he might survive whatever mistreatment the trader he’d been sold to doled out today—but when dusk came and he turned back into a man… From his name, the merchant was Damarian, and my people didn’t take well to wild magic. It wasn’t difficult to imagine how a superstitious man would react when his new horse suddenly turned human before his eyes.

Aric had frozen when we were attacked before; he wouldn’t do any better against a different assailant, especially not immediately after transforming. And even if he escaped, he had nowhere to go. He couldn’t return to Arnhelm. I knew the fate of rightful heirs when a usurper seized the throne. And what other options did he have? He’d be naked, alone, destitute. He hadn’t even managed to steal a pair of shoes on his own. If the merchant or more outlaws didn’t kill him, the cold would do the job.

The conclusion was inevitable. Saving myself, following my duty, would mean losing Aric forever.

Despair, clear and cold as a midwinter night, settled around me. It was almost a relief. It finally numbed the pain.

I never expected you to actually fall in love with your husband.

Tatiana’s words, spoken only hours ago, echoed chidingly in my mind. Now, too late, I could admit the reason they’d struck so hard: they were true. I had fallen in love with Aric. It had never been physical want alone that drew me to him, never just a truce that kept us together, and somewhere, deep down, I’d known. I had never desired someone solely because I found them beautiful. Beauty was hollow. It was Aric’s inner life that I loved. The way he’d been gentle and patient, never guilting me when my body needed rest. The way he glowed with passion when he talked about the things he loved. The way he’d opened his heart to me, showed me his scars, the words that had made him bleed—even though I could have used his trust to hurt him more.

I thought of the warmth of Aric’s hand in mine, the cautious smile that lit his face with the hope of a new dawn. His eyes, deep with trust. Trust in me. Aric believed in me, even when I didn’t.

Caring means you’re strong. It means you’re brave enough to let yourself feel, even though it puts your heart at risk. And you are strong, Bianca. Stronger than I think you know.

I wasn’t brave. I wasn’t strong. But Aric was. And if that was true—that his vulnerability made him strong—then opening my heart wasn’t a weakness at all, but a step of courage I hadn’t dared to take.

Maybe I wasn’t following my duty because it was right. Maybe I was following my duty because I was a coward, afraid of my own vulnerability.

Maybe what I’d thought was the right choice wasn’t right at all.

The thought was as startling and sure as a rapier driving home into its target. Logic and duty defined what I was meant to do: abandon my sister, my retinue, and my husband to save myself and salvage the treaty. But my heart told me otherwise, and for the first time, I was listening.

All my life, I’d done exactly as expected. I’d followed my head and ignored the shallow beating of my heart. I’d tried so hard to be the daughter my parents wanted, craving their approval. And look where it had brought me.

Maybe it was time to stop thinking with my head and start thinking with my heart.

I thought of the arboretum where I’d fled with Aric. The green shoots of flowers reaching through the snow. Another hard frost would kill them. But if they didn’t take the risk, they lost their chance at any life at all.

And wasn’t it better to take the chance to live than to hide underground forever, waiting for a certainty the world could never promise?

Slowly, I raised my head. I took in my surroundings: the ransacked room, the embers going dark in the hearth. If this was where duty brought me, if this was what my parents’ approval looked like, I no longer wanted it.

I stood up, done with this room and its reminders of my mistakes.

Something glinted, catching my eye: enameled brass. The seven-league spittoon, half hidden under Tatiana’s abandoned gown.

Stooping, I picked it up and turned the enchanted cuspidor over in my hands.

Tatiana had always charted her own path, regardless of our parents’ approval. It was time for me to do the same. To choose what I wanted—not for anyone else, but for myself. To show that Aric’s faith in me was founded after all. To fight for the people who loved me for who I was, instead of those who told me I was never enough. To take my fear and turn it into my strength.

I had abandoned the person I loved once. I would not do it again.

My hands closed into fists: not of despair this time, but anger. Mine, to use as I wished.

“I’m coming for you, Aric,” I whispered. “And seas help anyone who stands in my way.”