Camille braced herself for the cold as she plunged into the water, frigid salt seeping into her being with every step. It wasn’t enough, not after what had happened.

It wasn’t rational.

And yet she had no choice. If Mother came back, it would be here, and she had to be the first to see it. Had to.

She inhaled deep before dropping her head beneath the waves, feeling the shock of the cold on her face. Despite the stinging salt, she forced her eyes open, trying to glimpse anything out in the depths.

“...got it completely surrounded. I fear Ombresse isn’t long for this world.” That was Uncle Emile’s voice, clear despite the water’s distortions of the sound. “Not without help, anyway.”

“We can’t, Emile. The only reason Guerron doesn’t have a boot on its neck this very minute is the fact that it would be more trouble for them than it’s worth. If that changes…”

Camille poked her head slightly out of the water, making sure not to splash too noisily. A quick wipe of her eyes, and the other figure on the beach was clear enough to make out. Duke Fouchand, he was called, the one who had surrendered.

“I know, I know… It’s just… After Sarille and the Foxtrap and everything, it seemed like that was at least the end of it. Avalon accepted our terms of surrender, they stopped advancing past Malin… Are we just supposed to wait until they decide to come here? I have my niece to protect, and her people besides.”

Duke Fouchand granted him the barest hint of a smile. “Can you keep a secret, Emile Leclaire?”

Uncle nodded. “Of course, sire.”

“Did you hear about the mutiny of the Fortan Flame? It seems poor Jeanne Verrou’s boy finally came to his senses.”

“It certainly took him long enough, serving beside those monsters. Even then, I heard it was all about pay anyway.”

Fouchand smiled. “You heard correctly. It seems the Grimoires stumbled their way onto the gravestone of many a nation: failing to pay your soldiers. Verrou might have had an attack of conscience, or not, but six ships wouldn’t have followed behind him if they were getting what they wanted. It’s an opportunity.”

“An opportunity?” Emile scratched his chin. “Ah, I see what you mean. Deniable, so long as no one finds out who’s paying them. Still, a very dangerous game you’re playing, sire. And even then, not likely to help Ombresse.”

“Ombresse we will have to sit and endure, I’m afraid. But every penny spent camping an army along its walls will only cost Avalon more. My Aunt Jeanne was at the Siege of Salhaute, and she told me that it was almost as bad for the besiegers as the people inside. They had access to the outside world, but all of their provisions needed to be hauled up the mountain, constantly pelted by sallies from those infernal pegasus knights of theirs. If the High King hadn’t acted when he did, they could probably have only maintained the siege a few more weeks.”

Emile laughed, though it was hard to be sure why. “If only Ombresse can hold out a little longer, they might have a chance.”

“It’s the best we can hope for.” The Duke dipped his head, brown hair blowing behind him in the wind, then turned to go. “I seethe myself, to think of all who starve within those walls. But we must restrain ourselves. For the children.”

“For the children.” Emile nodded, though he didn’t turn around.

Camille lifted her head higher, gasping for air as quietly as she could manage.

“I see you, Camille.” He sighed. “You can’t keep spending all day out here. It’s not healthy. We’ve talked about this.”

“But Mother—”

He grimaced. “She’s not here, Camille. It’s been months and no one’s found her. I know it’s hard to hear, but you have to stay strong. People are depending on you.”

She took a few steps closer to land, feeling her wet clothes stick uncomfortably to her skin as she emerged. “I know they are. But I have to—” She shook her head, spraying water from her hair. “I need to be stronger. I need to make them pay.”

“I can’t dispute that.” Emile frowned. “But being a strong leader is about more than just being the most powerful sage. You’re the High Priestess, now. Only you can commune with Levian in the same way Sarille did, and our mother before her.” He held his hand to face. “I can do what’s needed today, for you. But Levian won’t look upon it kindly. It will probably make things harder for you in the long run, if he sees you as living in my shadow. But I will, Camille. If you’re not ready to offer a sacrifice—”

“No.” She planted her feet firmly in the sand. “I’m ready. I have to be. For her.”

≋

I still have enough power.

Camille had worried, at first, that seating that Prince in the Governor’s Mansion might have required more spirit energy than she could afford to spend, that she might need to secure more sacrifices or draw on her own life to ensure she could make it to Guerron, but it hadn’t been necessary.

Almost insultingly easy.

And if half of what Florette had said about him was true, half of what he’d said himself, Malin would only be more lightly defended under his charge. It was the correct course, the sensible approach.

And it’s kept Lucien and Annette waiting even longer for me. Were they standing on that same beach, wondering if she was alive? Wondering if she’d ever return?

Guerron would be filled with sages, perhaps even an influx of spirits to settle things after what had happened there. But Lumière was defeated, Annette restored to her powers and Lucien surely as well. Guerron would have power in abundance, but a comparative dearth of threats.

Dark skies loomed over the water, a vast array of stars reflected within it.

One step, then another, a channeling of the power of the waves, and she could cast all their doubts aside. She could feel Lucien’s embrace once more, spend hours with Annette in her office just talking and enjoying each other’s company. She could thank Fernan, bestow him with anything he desired, for it would be heartily deserved after what he’d done.

One step, and she could leave Malin behind. It would make returning here with an army at her back far easier, when the time came. After what had happened, there probably wouldn’t be a better opportunity. Avalon had too much else to focus on, right now. It would allow her to honor her compact with Levian, and grant him the souls he’d been promised.

One step, and she could leave her people to their fate.

“What happened to you, lady? You look terrible.”

Camille wrenched her head away from the water, looking back at the man who had spoken.

His hair was shaggy and unkempt, accompanied by a wild beard floating in front of him just as his hair trailed into the air behind. In the dark light, his face seemed washed of all color, his lips and eyes blue.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” There was something familiar about him, hard to place as it was.

The man smiled, eery for the lack of color in his face. “Could say we met a few times, yeah. You wanted to know more, but I wasn’t supposed to say nothing.” Wait, is that— “Still took care of my family, after we got to talking. I kinda hate you, but I do appreciate that.”

The chill of the night pierced Camille’s skin, creeping down her spine. “The harbor brigand. Jean. I—” She blinked, trying to piece the image together. “What happened to you?”

He let out a quiet laugh. “My son thinks I’m still on a trip, but I’m actually dead.” His smile disappeared. “Would have been nice if you could even remember.”

“I remember everything.” Camille took a deep breath, stepping closer to the shade. “You wouldn’t explain what happened or who put you up to what you did, but you did choose Levian over Soleil. You chose me over Lumière.” For some reason, she placed a hand on his shoulder, cold and wet. “I killed you.”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

When she opened them, she stood on the beach alone. The night’s chill was only growing worse, would only get more severe out on the water. This was the time to go, if ever there were one.

≋

Prince Grimoire looked more animated than he ever had, practically clawing at his own face as he paced the office that had once belonged to Perimont. “This could ruin everything. What were they thinking?” He slammed the back of his head against the wall, then winced. “Leclaire, you have to explain this.”

Camille did her best to remain composed, despite the apocalyptic disaster that had just unfolded. How did this even happen? “I don’t know as much as you’d hope. Unfortunately I don’t magically absorb people’s plans just by meeting them a few times. Khali’s curse. I couldn’t even tell you which of them did this, honestly, though I have my suspicions.”

“Don’t say that.” Grimoire clenched his fists tightly, breathing heavily in and out. “Whoever was responsible is a question for the courts. I need to know how to deal with this! I need to know what happens next! How long—”

“Enough,” she cut in. “You’re acting like a child, while Malin needs a leader. This is a crisis, yes. It’s not insurmountable. Even Khali’s rampage was stopped eventually. Assess what’s needed and put it into action. I should have to be telling you this.”

“I know!” His voice cracked on the second word. “I already sent out the order to gather up every forester in the area and send them out immediately. The moment I’m done here, I’m headed back to my workshop to try to engineer a good solution, or at least something helpful.” He took a deep breath. “I know this isn’t your problem. You held up your end of the bargain. But I need to save these people somehow. And now with Perimont dead, and my brother doing who-knows-what… The only people I know here are part of the problem, one way or another. Or grieving. I can’t burden Simon so soon after losing his father.”

How is it that a prince of darkness could be such a mess? Malins were not even his people, not remotely. He wanted to replace the boot with a velvet slipper, but leave it on their necks.

But then, given what had happened, perhaps it wasn’t that hard to understand.

“Whitbey told me this could be an opportunity, you know. Before Perimont’s body was even cold. He got a shot in at Florette and revealed her face.”

“Like I said, I had nothing to do with that. She knew who I was, and that put me at her mercy.

“Whitbey doesn’t even know that you’re Camille, or that she’s a pirate, and he still knows it’s as good an excuse as the Harpies could ever have asked for. Guerron is weaker than it’s ever been, after what’s happened. There’s no way that they aren’t.” He pounded his fist against the wall, his hand curling open at the impact. “The world is on the brink of ruin and I’m still stuck trying to stop a stupid war!”

“Good luck,” Camille said, and found that she meant it. “I’ll write to you from Guerron, in case there’s any way that helps.”

“You’re still leaving?”

“It’s time. I have to go back to the people who need me.”

≋

“Oh, come on, Lucien. The feast is basically over!” She touched his arm lightly, tracing her fingers over muscle. “Haven’t you had enough?”

Lucien ran his hand through his hair, almost down to his shoulders now. Long hair was a good look for him, the red nicely framing his face. “It’s been a hard decade. I want to stick all the way to the end, to show my solidarity.”

“Oh, who cares? It’s a feast; The whole purpose of the thing is to get everyone together to eat and drink and cavort.” She smiled at him. “Myself, I’ve had my fill of eating and drinking for the night. Haven’t you?”

“I’m not hungry anymore, if that’s what you mean.”

I know you’re not this thick, Lucien. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” He placed a hand on her arm, returning her smile. “This is part of rule, Camille, such as it is. To be seen, to be talked to. People fight harder for someone they know, someone who walks among them and always stays in their corner. It’s my duty.”

≋

Florette was late, again, as if that were a surprise. Camille could only hope it was out of an abundance of caution, moving through the tunnels in the dark, but knowing Florette she’d probably just forgotten or something.

She was holding her head to her ear when she finally emerged from the tunnel, a wad of cloth bunched up against it.

“Good evening, Florette. I have a quick question: what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“That’s not a quick question at all.” Florette turned her head to the left, bringing her good ear closer. “And I’m alright, by the way, thank you for asking. Other than this fucking ringing in my head, anyway. Did you get that when Lumière shot you?”

“If I did, I was too preoccupied by everything else to notice.” Camille sighed. “Why? Killing Perimont accomplishes nothing. He was already on his way out!”

“He was massing troops to invade Guerron, Camille. I heard him planning it. The robbery wasn’t even going to put a dent in his plans.” She pulled a glinting metal pistol out from her belt, causing Camille to reflexively flinch. “You know better than anyone how much damage one of these things can do. There must have been hundreds on that train alone. Can you imagine hundreds of soldiers firing them en masse?”

For a moment, she did, each crack of thunder sending someone bloody to the ground in an instant. Lucien had trained with the sword his entire life, but this would cut him down before he could ever close the distance.

“They were going to kill Fernan. They singled him out by name, along with your Fox-King.”

Camille bit her lip, staring into the haunted eyes of this disaster of a girl. “He deserved to die, and more than most. But there is a time and a place. We went over this with Whitbey! What difference does it make if Horace Williams is leading the attack on Guerron instead of Perimont? You didn’t accomplish anything.”

Florette looked ashamed as she tucked the pistol back into her belt. “That’s what I was afraid of. I could practically hear him saying it to me this morning. Well, if you can call it a morning.”

“Ugh, what a mess.” She clasped her hands together, pressing them to her face. “So many people are going to die, Florette. In Malin, in Guerron, everywhere.”

“You think we could have stopped it? Did I waste my time when I should have been—”

“Yes. But I still don’t know what would have been enough. I should never have lost that duel, that’s where it all went wrong. I should have killed him when I had the chance.” She locked eyes with Florette. “So I do understand. I’m not ignorant to your motivation. But if it made any difference at all, it probably only made things worse.”

Florette stared back, her voice wavering. “I hope not.”

“Well, this disaster kind of eclipsed it anyway. The Prince practically had a fit, to me of all people.”

“He probably thought you could help. You’re the only one who really has any meaningful knowledge of spirits, certainly the only one in the city with any magic. That could count for a lot, in a time like this.”

It’s my duty.

“You’re leaving town soon, right? Even this prince can’t just let you get away with an assassination.”

She nodded. “Eloise got me a spot on a ship leaving at midday. Well, in a few hours, anyway.”

“Is it stopping in Guerron?”

“Why would that matter?” Florette tilted her head. “Do you want to meet up there, or something? Because yeah, it is. I thought it would be good to see Fernan again, maybe help against Avalon, if it comes to that. ”

“Good.” I thought you might. Camille pulled a sealed envelope from a pocket in her cloak, borrowed from Mary on short notice. “Give this to Lucien when you get there. It’s got messages for Annette and Fernan, too.”

“Uh, sure.” She blinked. “Why can’t you just talk to them yourself? You’ll probably get there before I do.”

“I will not, because I’m not going to Guerron.” She took a deep breath, turning away from the starlit beach to face the city. Her city, filled with her people. “I have to go back to the people who need me most.”