She cursed under her breath. Precioso was too precious a resource to lose, and they couldn’t let the alchemist get away. “Find him,” she told Vikal. “The little girl too.”

Give them a few days, Imeria thought as she tucked the precioso into the folds of her skirt. She glanced over her shoulder at the horizon. Neither Eti nor this mysterious alchemist could have gotten far in Mariit’s winding streets. They could find a hole somewhere and burrow down there for as long as they liked. But the royal guard belonged to Imeria, and they would catch up with them soon.

Dear Nelo,

How fast the mighty fall. You told me how anger sweeps through a nation. How it builds and crests, until it tears down fortresses and topples regimes. You told me this while we were lying together in the caretaker’s shed behind the rector’s office, the strawberry trees shielding us from the inventor’s merciless eye.

I have taken refuge in a ramshackle warehouse on the edge of a canal. Once again hiding, once again lost. Despite the danger that awaits me beyond these walls, my mind wanders to those stolen moments with you in that shed.

I’m not alone. Hara Duja’s youngest daughter was with me when the intruders overtook the palace. She’s a small, clever thing⁠—so unlike her sisters. One moment, she was in my workshop offering me sweets. Next, the queen’s general came barging in, blood pouring down the side of his leg.

“Grab the precioso and run,” he said. “Take the princess with you.”

So Eti and I ran. We found this warehouse, and she used her powers to snap open the brass padlock on the door. She spent the better half of the night crying. She asked me what would become of her family. I didn’t lie to her, but I could not bear to tell her the truth.

Hara Duja has been deposed. My soul aches when I think of her tight-lipped smile. When I think of Laya, and her enigmatic, green-flecked eyes. I know what happens when governments fall. Anarchy will consume the island in a matter of days. I know what you are thinking. But I cannot stay.

I have a way out, as I always do. With the precioso in my pocket, I can bribe my way onto the first westbound ship. Your voice, low and vicious, echoes in my head: Would you abandon a child, Ariel? The people who granted you protection?

Damn you, Nelo. The will to save the royal family has come to me in nagging whispers. I know it’s because of you.

You ask so much of me, my love, even though you know my answer.

This time, I won’t cower. This time, I will stay and fight.

I will not abandon Eti like I abandoned you.

—⁠Ariel

Twenty-Four

Eti