Guest Rooms.
Reubinon Palace, Pellarmus.

As soon as we reached land we were ushered onto a train. By then, it was nearing night and we were given cabins with beds we could sleep in. The rooms were small and reminded me a lot of my first trip to Gazda. I had a similar sort of anxiety too—like I was standing on the edge of something either very good or very bad. I wasn't sure exactly when I would find out which it was.

By the time our train arrived in Reubinon, it was dark out, somewhere between two or three in the morning. The city around us slept soundly as we were escorted into cars with tinted windows and small red and gold Pellarmi flags positioned on the hoods. Isla rode in the back of one of those transports with me, Anna, and Nadia. We'd all slept on and off during the train ride and that grogginess hadn't quite left. It had been cold enough during our minutes-long wait for the cars that I was now little more alert than I had been when I'd first been woken up.

Still, we were silent as we rode to the palace. When we arrived, Darragh bid us all a good night and had servants take us to the guest wing of the palace. His home was massive, but not quite the opulence of Oredison Palace. Back in the Warwick's home, there were hundreds of unused rooms. Here, it seemed like every space was utilized and each corridor seemed to thread together in a way that was practical.

This seemed like a house and less of a castle. It was warm and inviting. And I liked it instantly.

On our way to our rooms, we passed living quarters and rooms with large balconies that led out onto curtained verandas. Beyond that, was a view of the sea. Even in the dark, I could see the moon shining on the water. I could hear the lapping of waves on the nearby beaches.

I was a buzzing sort of quiet. The sort of quiet that was full and yet empty all at once.

Isla had hung onto my arm as we walked towards the rooms we'd be staying in. "Tomorrow," she said, following my gaze, "we will go on a walk on the beach. We can collect shells."

"Shells?"

She nodded. "You know, they wash up on the beaches."

I stifled a yawn as we reached one of the guest rooms and the servant leading us indicated that I would stay here. "And do what with them?" I asked Isla.

She smiled and pulled away from me, moving to loop an arm through Nadia's, who was already half asleep on Cohen's shoulder. "Just collect them," she said. "For fun."

For fun.

Cohen offered me a small smile as they continued past. "See you in the morning. Sleep well."

I pushed open my door but didn't step inside right away. "You too."

"If you need anything," Isla called, "You can push the button by your door and someone will answer."

I didn't know what she meant, but I was too tired to ask any more questions. I muttered one final goodnight and closed the bedroom door behind myself. I barely looked at the space as I kicked off my boots and felt around in the dark for the bed.

I wanted to light a candle, but I didn't know where any were, and my ability was so unstable that I didn't want to risk accidentally setting the room on fire. So, I stripped down to my underclothes and slid blindly into bed.

It was quiet and warm and I was grateful to be on land again. But even knowing that, even knowing that I was in a palace right now, I still felt the sway of the boat every time I closed my eyes. It was disconcerting and nauseating and I wished desperately for sleep.

Tomorrow held a million possibilities and I was as hopeful as I was afraid. Tomorrow, we would go walk on the beach and collect shells. And there was no purpose to it. No dire need to collect them. Nothing we would do with them.

Strange.

Goddess, that was strange. And nice, too. I'd never collected anything in my life. I didn't know anyone who collected things. Collecting items was a luxury. It was a priviledge. And I knew no one lucky enough to have that. Maybe Kai—if you counted art supplies as a collection. Or my mother—if herbal remedies could be considered something to collect. I wasn't sure.

For fun, Isla had said.

I peered across the room to the large set of glass doors that opened out onto a balcony overlooking the beach.

Kai had once told me that we would go see the ocean together. I'd never seen it up close and he'd assured me that, despite my reservations, I would like it there. He'd told me that the beach could wash away the world's troubles. He'd called it relaxing.

And I knew what he meant now.

With the balcony doors open and the soft salt breeze shifting the curtains, I could hear the water lapping at the shore and, at that moment, I thought it was possibly the most magical thing I'd ever experienced—and I could create fire from my hands, so that was saying something. This, laying here under the light of the moon, listening to the ocean and the wind sing...I thought it could only be made better if Kai were here to experience it with me.

I wished I weren't alone in bed. I wanted him here. I wanted the image he'd crafted for me—the one of us sitting together on a beach, enjoying each other. I wanted this nightmare to be over. But it wasn't.

The fight was only beginning. We'd had one battle and now there might be a war.

And Kai was across the ocean from me. Miles and miles away.

Don't come back.

I buried my face in the pillow and sighed. My heart was heavy, but I told myself that tomorrow could be the start of something positive. The morning would be fresh. I would be in a new city with new opportunities. New options. And I'd find a way to help Kai.

I wasn't done fighting for him.

Or the throne.

The last thing I thought, as my eyes fell shut and I lost myself to exhaustion, was that Kai was right, I did sort of like the beach.

***

I woke to the sound of a door creaking open. I'd barely opened my eyes when I felt the mattress give as someone collapsed onto it next to me. The sunlight was nearly blinding as I rolled over and came face to face with Nadia.

She smiled widely, her brown eyes bright with excitement as she said, "We're going down to the beach. Come with us." I groaned in response and she shoved my shoulder. "Come on, get up. You've already slept past breakfast."

I looked behind her to my still open bedroom door. Cohen leaned on the doorframe. He offered me a lazy shrug. "I've been stalling all morning, but I can't put her off any longer. You either go with us or we go without you."

I sat up and pulled the blankets to my chest, suddenly self-conscious of my lack of real clothes. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven," Nadia answered.

I turned to the windows and, sure enough, the sun was almost midway through the sky. I leaned back on the pillows, partially stunned by my surroundings and the oddity of being woken up like this. My insides felt like they were shaking and it took a lot to keep my breathing from appearing too labored.

I'd been in the middle of a nightmare when I'd heard the door, and I hadn't quite come out of it fully. In my dream, I'd been back in the cells of Oredison Palace and Larkin had been there—Caine too. The sound of Nadia coming in had blended with the dream. With that sound, I'd imagined Viera stepping into the room—all three of my demons aligned and focused on me.

But I wasn't there anymore.

I was here—safe.

Nadia seemed to sense my unease because she rested a hand over mine, that familiar healing warmth like a balm to my racing heart. It did little to wash away the lingering confusion and fear, but it was nice to be reminded that I wasn't as alone as I sometimes felt I was. By the door, Cohen was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his grin turning from amused to excitement as he said, "Get dressed. We only have a few hours before we have to come back and get ready for dinner tonight."

Cohen held up a large wicker basket and Nadia nodded excitedly.

"We're picnicking on the beach." Her eyes widened as she said this, as if eating outside for no real reason was the most insane thing she'd ever thought to do.

I lifted a hand and made a twirling motion with my finger. Cohen smiled and stepped into my room. He shut the door behind himself before he followed my silent command and turned to face the wall. I threw back the covers and scrambled for the clothes I'd abandoned on the floor, but Nadia shook her head.

"I brought clean clothes for you."

And she had. At the foot of the bed was a small bag filled with some basics—underclothes, leggings, loose trousers, thick sweaters, cardigans, tunics, and blouses. I dressed in a set of gray leggings, a light blue tunic, and a cream cardigan. By the time I'd laced my boots and run a brush through my hair, Cohen was growing impatient.

"Goddess, Monroe! We're going to the beach, not to the opera."

I had no idea what people usually wore to the opera—but judging by his exasperated tone, it obviously took a while to get ready for something like that. I rolled my eyes and walked past him, opening the bedroom door as I said, "Lead the way."

He waited for Nadia and took her hand before he headed off down the hall.

As we walked, I was again struck by how homey it felt. Even in the guest wing of the palace, it seemed lived in. The hallways were narrow where the ones in Oredison Palace were wide. The paintings on the walls were more casual—a family portrait of a young-looking Isla and Darragh, the two of them smiling toothily between a man and a woman who could only be their parents.

I kept a few steps between Cohen and Nadia, but I could hear him telling her about his summers spent here with his siblings and his mother. It was strange to think of Viera walking these halls. Cohen had told me that she'd found a friend in the late queen and had mourned her death greatly. Seeing the bright, airy rooms and the warm colors and fresh smells, I could imagine that Viera would have felt grounded in a place like this. I wondered if she'd ever missed it. Oredison Palace was cold and vancant seeming compared to this place.

Most of the windows were open and the sheer curtains lining the halls all fluttered in a cool breeze. It wasn't quite summer here, but it was closer to spring in Pellarmus than it was in Erydia. Outside, I could hear children laughing. And as we walked down the stairs and headed through a set of stain glass double doors, I found myself on a massive lawn of lush green grass.

We walked across a line of stones that soon morphed into a dirt pathway. Over a small hill, down a wooden bridge, and then we were there—standing atop a set of dunes, looking out over the ocean. Nadia and Cohen kept walking, their fingers entwined, their bodies bumping into one another as they leaned close. But I stayed were I was—frozen in time.

Goddess, it was beautiful. Truly.

Seeing water from a boat was different than seeing the way it lapped against the shore. I'd been able to hear it from my bedroom, but now that it was right there, only a few feet away, it was like a rumble that shook the earth. I gripped the railing of the little walkway and had to take in a deep breath to steady myself.

Even the air tasted different here.

Nadia stopped walking and turned to face me. She smiled up at me. "Are you alright?" Cohen was already peeling off his shoes and rolling up his pant legs. He paused and looked to where Nadia still stood.

I nodded but found that I couldn't speak. I had no words. I thought—I thought I might cry.

Nadia smiled to herself, as if she knew what I was experiencing, and continued down the walkway towards Cohen. The two of them abandoned their shoes on the wood planks and took off towards the water. Cohen whooped and pulled her along beside him, kicking up sand in their wake.

And for a moment Kai was correct, it seemed as if everything was right with the world.

There were no crowns, no thrones, no enemies. There was nothing but the water and the sun and the freedom of the unobscured horizon. And I was so overwhelmed by it all, that I couldn't seem to move. I just stared out at the blue, blue water. At the white sand.

How had a lonely girl from Varos come this far?

Someone yelled my name and I turned to see Anna standing with what appeared to be Leighton. They were a little way down the beach. She wore a light green dress with thin straps and she'd allowed the fabric of her shawl to slip back so she could drink in the sun. It was the sort of sight I knew Kai would want to draw.

Anna waved to me, her smile bright as she nodded to the ocean in front of her. I wrapped my arms around myself and took a step forward, still trying to bolster my courage. For some reason, I was intimidated by all of this. It was as if the world had grown overnight. I'd realized I was in Pellarmus—a foreign country—but the reality of it hadn't really set in yet. Not until now.

Nadia and Cohen were walking the beach, heading west towards a large dock. The wooden structure stuck out into the sea and it looked like fishermen were gathered there, their lines already cast. Farther down from that, I could almost make out Heidi's face as she walked the beach alone. She was heading back my way, her blonde hair a mess of unruly waves as it caught in the wind and blew against her face.

I stood on the little bridge for a moment longer before I walked down the rest of the way. I didn't take off my boots—for some reason, it didn't feel right. I wanted to be here, but not here all at the same time. This had never been my dream—or not my dream alone. It was probably the first dream Kai and I had shared together. It was small and simple. Just an image of us sitting together on the beach.

But him not being here when I'd made it, when I was finally here, seeing the ocean, felt wrong. All of this reminded me of his note and the finality of his words to me: don't come back. As I lowered myself onto the sand and leaned back against one of the high dunes, it occurred to me that I couldn't listen to him, not because I was just naturally opposed to following any order Kai gave me, which was true—but because I hadn't really left him. Even two thousand miles away, my heart was still wherever he was.

I'd been angry with myself for not being able to stop loving him. But I knew that anger had always had a short life span. It had died every damn time he'd looked at me. And even though that last kiss wasn't one I'd planned for or even wanted—I'd kissed him back. And, knowing what I did now, I wished I could go back and kiss him again.

And maybe slap him a second time too.

I was still laying there, looking up at the bright sky and the sugar-floss clouds above my head, when someone sat next to me. I glanced over already pasting on a smile, expecting to see Anna or Nadia, but instead, I found Heidi. She sat with her knees to her chest, her thin arms wrapped securely around herself. For a moment, she didn't speak, just looked out at the far-off horizon.

Large white birds soared above our heads. Nadia and Cohen were still on the dock. They'd obviously sacrificed part of our lunch, because the birds were flocking, their white and black wings outstretched as they swept from the sky and darted down to their lifted hands. I kept forgetting that the last month had passed differently for them than it had for me.

While I'd been sitting next to Caine and enduring Kai's punishments, Nadia and Cohen had been together in the prisons. There was a closeness to them now that could only come from having gone through something terrible together. I hadn't had the guts to ask what it had been like for them—and they hadn't asked what the month had been like for me either. We'd had our separate hells and we seemed content to keep it like that.

We didn't need to share each other's nightmares.

"Nadia stuck up for you, you know." Heidi's voice was quiet, almost drowned out by the rushing of the sea and the cry of the birds above us. I lifted myself up on my elbows and looked over at her. The sun was high in the sky now and I had to squint to see her face fully.

"She told me she did."

"Larkin said you must have known about Callahan—about Kai."

"I didn't."

She pursed her lips and looked at me then. "I didn't want to believe her, mostly because Larkin's a bitch. But I did. I believed her. I mean, goddess, Monroe. What are the odds you'd end up with both princes? That's like being struck by lightning again, while you're being struck by lightning. Stuff like that doesn't happen."

I sighed. "Turns out it does."

Heidi blew out a breath, knocking hair out of her eyes in the process. She cut her gaze at me. "So, did you sleep with both of them?"

My face was hotter than all ten levels of hell. "No!"

She shook her head, as if I'd misunderstood her. "I didn't mean at the same time."

I rolled my eyes. "The answer is still no. I didn't—You know, it really isn't any of your business."

"Still, you could tell me."

"We aren't talking about my sex life, Heidi."

"So you did sleep with them."

"No, I didn't."

"Sure you didn't." She nodded and it fell quiet.

I could tell she didn't believe me and, dammit, I knew what she was doing, but I fell for it anyway. I couldn't stand the judgment in her silence. I shouldn't care, not really. But I was so tired of everyone assuming shit.

"I haven't slept with either of them, okay?"

This, she laughed at—a real laugh. And I realized then that I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard Heidi laugh at something. She was always so serious and it was easy to forget that she was still very young. Angry, certainly, but still young. She had a lot to live for.

We all did.

"You know," she said after a minute, "you can't deny that it would have been a freaking clever plan if you'd really gotten yourself pregnant with the king's baby. Caine would have lost his shit."

I fiddled with the buttons on my cardigan. "He'd have found a loophole and put me in the arena anyway. Even if I was carrying a possible heir—which I'm not."

She nodded, "Oh yeah, definitely. But it would have been nice to see his head explode first."

"I wish you'd realize that I'm on your side."

She propped her chin on her bent knees and shrugged. "I'm used to looking out for myself. I don't need anyone on my side."

"Do you—Do you have a family back home in Nolajan?"

This question surprised her enough that I think she felt compelled to answer it honestly. "No." Her lips quivered slightly and I could tell she regretted saying anything at all. She stared at me for a long moment and when I didn't push her for more information or laugh at her, she said, "I grew up in a group home. There's no one waiting for me. Even if I won the Culling, there's no one who'd even notice or care."

"Oh, Heidi..." I wanted to reach out to her, but I knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't want me to. So, I just sat up and looked at her. "You have a family now. You know that, right? We—me and Nadia and Cohen and the others back at camp—We all love you."

She blinked at me. For a moment, I thought she might cry, but then that same shield fell back into place and her expression turned stony once more. "Love doesn't do anything. Love didn't save Aviana or Tessa. It didn't keep Viera from killing anyone she wanted to. Love is a word. It doesn't mean anything. And even if you were loved once, people don't have to keep loving you—even when you think they should. Even when you still love them, they don't—It doesn't change—" she bit back her words and I wondered who she was thinking about.

Whoever it was, she didn't want me to ask about it.

I looked up to the sky again, wishing I had the answers. But there was nothing there, no words from the goddess or piece of advice I could give Heidi that would mend her brokenness. My mind went to the scars on her wrist. Lately, her way of her hurting herself had become even more destructive. She was picking fights, goading others into hurting her. She was covered in bruises and scars. And most of them she'd asked for.

Even on the boat, she'd fought all the time with everyone.

She was so angry.

And I knew that it would eat her alive. That sort of anger—that darkness—couldn't reside in a person forever, not without consequences. Not without turning you into someone like Viera.

I swallowed and said, "I'm sorry you felt alone during the trials."

She drew her name in the sand at our feet. The movement made her mark shift under the light of the sun. It was dark black and ate the light the way mine sometimes did. Her's, like Nadia's and Kinsley's, was more precise—more of a tattoo than a birthmark.

I kept my eyes on those three dark circles that spanned from the crease of her elbow to her wrist as I said, "You're right. You can't make people continue to love you. But—I think how you love is always going to be more important than how you're loved. I know that isn't a good answer, but..." I shrugged, "I'm not a philosopher or a priestess. I don't have the answers and I have no way of getting them."

"If you'd died in the Culling, during your trial against Tessa, your mother would have been heartbroken. She'd have wept. Your brothers would have mourned for you. Hell, Ambrose was willing to risk everything for you. And even if your body was burned in the arena, your mother would've lit a candle for you. She'd have said remembrances and she'd have given sacrifices in the temple to make sure your soul ended up in a good place." Heidi scraped her teeth against her bottom lip. I watched her dig her nails in her palm as she said, "When I was going into the arena against Grier, I knew that no one was going to cry for me. No one was going to light a candle for me. It would be like I'd never existed."

When I looked up at Heidi's face again, there were tears streaming down her cheeks. I forced my gaze away as if that could give her privacy—as if that would make me unsee all the hurt written there.

"I'm sorry."

"She controlled people with her voice. If Cohen hadn't ended our trial before it started..." Heidi shook her head. "I'd be dead. Gone."

"But you aren't. You lived."

"Let me tell you something, Monroe Benson: You don't know loneliness until you are about to enter an arena and you realize that no one—not one soul—is waiting for you to come out of it."

I didn't know what to say to that. She was right. I didn't understand that sort of isolation. When I'd gone against Tessa, I'd had Tallis and Juno pulling for me. I'd had Cohen wanting me to win. I'd had Uri as my friend and I'd known my family was waiting for news of my trial. When I'd emerged as the victor, I'd had open arms waiting for me.

But not every goddess-touched girl had been as lucky as I was. Not all of them had advisors who cared about them the way mine had cared for me. Even in my darkest moments, I'd been loved.

I took a deep breath. "You're right. I haven't known loneliness like that. I've been very fortunate. And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry that you've felt alone and that your experiences of love have been fewer than they should have been. But...Heidi, I hope that your past doesn't steal your future. I only want good things for you. Everyone here wants you to live and be happy. Even if you don't think you need love or to have someone in your corner—you still have those things. They're right here, waiting for you to accept."

She pursed her lips. "I—I wouldn't have fought Nadia—in the arena, I mean. If it had been Kinsley, I'd have demolished her. But Nadia..." She sighed. "Despite how it may seem, I'm not out to get you guys."

I laughed. "You sure? Because before the ball the other night, you seemed pretty hell-bent on coming after me. And at dinner the night before that."

"I didn't mean any of that—or well, I meant the stuff at dinner. I really did believe what Larkin was saying. It's hard not to."

"She can be very persuasive."

"Yeah, and like I said, it's weird to think that you could just accidentally end up with two princes—two brothers. When you think about the odds of it all...It's hard to believe."

"I promise I didn't know."

She nodded. "Anyway—I just thought...I don't know. I wanted to tell you that I didn't believe it anymore. And I wanted to tell you that I wasn't going to kill Nadia. Even if Caine had put me in the arena with her...I'd have found a way to not fight her. I wouldn't hurt her. I felt like you ought to know."

I realized then that Nadia was our link—Heidi and I could be angry at each other, but we'd never been able to be angry at Nadia. She was the thing that kept us together. The thread in the otherwise ill-fitting equation. And even though Heidi wasn't really apologizing to me, her telling me the truth about her intentions with Nadia—someone we both cared about—was as close to a peace offering as I was probably ever going to get.

I offered her a small smile and nudged her shoulder with mine. "Thanks."

To my surprise, she didn't get up and leave right away. She stayed there, the two of us sitting side by side, our eyes locked on the ocean before us. With our blond hair, we probably looked like siblings from a distance.

And, in a lot of ways, it felt like that sort of relationship. It was contentious, sure, but there was affection between us. As Nadia had said, we were the only people who could really understand what each other was experiencing.

As I watched the water kiss the shoreline over and over again, I thought about the legends surrounding our very existence. I'd spent weeks reading old accounts of Cullings and I'd come up with nothing about tacet. But I'd also never seen a story where more than one goddess-touched girl survived. It was unheard of. It seemed like nine of the ten girls were destined to die—willed by the goddess to be sacrifices.

And yet here we were.

Fighting to change that fate.

Goddess be honored.

Or better yet, goddess be damned.

***

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