The idea is intimidating. I’ll have to be so careful with what I reveal about my craft. Once, I’d been convinced that to be anything of worth, I needed to be the queen’s Shadow. I believed it so wholly that even now, even knowing that my worth will never be tied to what others make of me, it’s difficult to completely silence the old fears.

I don’t know that I’m ready to have every eye in Thiy focused on me, but I can’t deny it’s also a bit thrilling. Without Ronin or the Dead Wood, the kingdoms must learn to coexist without an intermediary. I could have a hand in helping to shape that future.

“Then I wish you safe travels,” Prince Meilek says.

I stare at him. “I assumed you were coming with us. You can’t be thinking of going back to Evewyn?”

“I haven’t decided. But I can’t go to Mirrim. I’m useless there, and my people need me.”

“Your sister will kill you,” I say.

He smiles gently and with such quiet confidence that I want to believe it isn’t just a well-practiced facade. “I have no intention of allowing myself to be killed. But I can’t protect my people from the other side of Thiy.”

“Actually, you can. As far as I’m concerned, you are the voice of the Evewynian people. And their voices will be needed if the other countries decide to retaliate.”

So far, the Kazan and Nuvali have remained civil in the aftermath of the attack, mostly ignoring each other. But I’ll be glad when the camps disassemble and return to their own kingdoms. An alliance won’t come easily, and Theyen’s assertion that either country could attack the other is all too possible.

I wish I could speak to him, but Theyen has made clear his intent to avoid me. I can’t blame him. But true to his word, once night fell, I found Yandor waiting for me outside my tent.

“I doubt my voice will be welcome in such discussions,” he says. “Nor any Evewynian’s.”

“I’m Evewynian.” My fingers tighten into a fist. “And they’ll listen to me.” At least, I hope they will.

Silence settles between us. In the distance, the lights within the Dead Wood have grown enough in number that people have gathered along its border, just beyond the reach of the branches. Relief begins to trickle through me.

Suddenly, unease seizes my insides. From within the Dead Wood, the souls flicker oddly. They wink in and out of existence, like candle flames lit and then smothered, one by one. Frowning, I begin to stand.