“It will have been a necessary risk,” Heron says. “They knew as much when they volunteered. Besides, the Kaiserin is not as paranoid as the Kaiser, from what we’ve heard. She thinks you’re dead, she thinks we aren’t a threat, she has Søren. She thinks she’s won, and so she’s getting sloppy.”
The Kaiserin. Will there ever come a day when I hear that title and think first of Cress and not Kaiserin Anke?
“You said the army had left,” I say. “Where to?”
Heron lets out a long exhale. “You missed quite a lot of squabbling while you were gone—I almost envy you. The Vecturian chief sent his daughter Maile to assist us, along with his troops. With Søren gone, she and Erik have the most battle experience, but they don’t agree on anything. Erik wants to march straight to the capital to take the city and rescue Søren.”
“That’s foolish,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s exactly what they’ll expect, and even if it weren’t, we don’t have the numbers for that kind of siege.”
“That’s exactly what Maile said,” Heron says, shaking his head. “She said we should continue to the Earth Mine.”
“But we can’t do that without marching past the most populous cities, without even the cover of forests or mountains,” I say. “It’ll be impossible to avoid detection, and then Cress will have an army waiting to greet us at the Earth Mine.”
“Which is exactly what Erik said,” Heron says. “See, you’re all caught up.”
“So who won?” I ask.
“No one,” Heron says. “It was decided that we should send the troops to the cities along the Savria River. None of them is heavily populated, but we’ll be able to contain the Kalovaxians, free their slaves, add to our numbers, and collect weapons and food as well. And most importantly, our troops aren’t just waiting here like sitting ducks.”
“Like we are, you mean,” I say, rubbing my temples. The headache blossoming has nothing to do with the mine this time. “And now I’m here to break the tie, I suppose.”
“Later,” he says. “Once you can actually walk on your own.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, more forcefully than necessary.
Heron watches me warily. He opens his mouth, but closes it again quickly, shaking his head.
“If there’s something you want to ask me about the mines, I don’t remember anything,” I tell him. “The last thing I remember is going in—after that, it’s a blur.”
“You will remember, in time,” he says. “For better or worse. But I know I never want to speak of my experience. I assumed you would feel the same way.”
I swallow, pushing the thought aside. A problem for another day—and I have too many problems before me as it is. “But something is on your mind,” I say to Heron. “What is it?”
He weighs the question in his mind for an instant. “Did it work?” he asks.
For a second, I don’t know what he means, but I suddenly remember—the reason I went into the mines in the first place, the weak power I had over fire before, the side effect from Cress’s poison. I went into the mine to claim my power, in hopes that I will have enough to stand against Cress when the time comes.
Did it work? There is only one way to find out.
I hold my left palm up and summon fire. Even before I uncurl my fingers, I feel heat thrumming beneath them, stronger than I’ve ever felt it before. It comes easily when I summon it, like it’s a part of me, always lurking just below the surface. It burns brighter, feels hotter, but it’s more than that. To show him, I toss it into the air, hold it there, suspended but still alive, still bright. Heron’s eyes grow wide, but he says nothing as I lift my hand and flex it. The ball of fire mimics me, becoming a hand of its own. When I move my fingers, it matches each movement. I make a fist, and it does that as well.
“Theo,” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I saw the extent of Ampelio’s power when he trained me. He couldn’t do that.”
I swallow and take hold of the flame again, smothering it in my grip and turning it to ash in my hand.
“If you don’t mind, Heron,” I say, my gaze fixed on the dark pigment that smears over my skin just as the ash crown had, “is Mina still here? She’s—”
“The healer,” he supplies, nodding. “Yes, she’s still here. She’s been helping with the wounded. I’ll find her.”
When he’s gone, I dust ash from my hands and let it settle into the dirt floor.
* * *
—
By the time Mina enters the tent, I’ve gotten used to standing again, though my body still doesn’t feel entirely like mine. Every move—every breath—feels like a labor, and every muscle aches. Mina must notice, because she takes one look at me and gives a knowing smile.
“It’s normal,” she says. “When I came out of the mine, the priestesses said that the gods had broken me and remade me anew. It seemed to sum up how I felt.”
I nod, easing myself back to sit on my cot once more. “How long does it last?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “My pain lasted a couple of days, but it varies.” She pauses, looking me over. “What you did was incredibly foolish. Going into the mine when you already possessed a measure of power—when you were already a vessel half-full—you were asking for mine madness. You realize that, don’t you?”
I look at the ground. It’s been some time since I’ve been chastised like this, by someone concerned about my well-being. I rack my mind for the last person; it very well may have been my mother. I suppose Hoa did as well, in her wordless way.
“I understood the risks,” I tell her.
“You’re the Queen of Astrea,” she continues, as if I haven’t spoken. “What would we have done without you?”
“You would have persisted,” I say, louder this time. “I am one person. We lost far more in the war, far more in the siege itself, including my mother. We have always persisted. I wouldn’t have made a difference.”
Mina fixes me with a level look. “It was still foolish,” she insists. “But I suppose it was also brave.”
I shrug again. “Whatever it might have been, it worked,” I say.
I show her the same thing I showed Heron, how I can not just summon fire but turn it into an extension of my own self. Mina watches me all the while with her lips pursed, not saying a word until I’ve finished and am scattering the ash to the ground once more.