They walked in silence for a while. The hike gave Nomi blisters and a savage headache, but she didn’t hate the physical effort. It felt more productive, at least, than the endless dance lessons and statuesque poses in the palazzo.

Clouds swept across the sky, providing welcome patches of shade, and the wind this close to the coast helped cool Nomi’s heated cheeks. She could see the wink of the ocean through the trees, and the smoky haze of the volcano in the distance.

She glanced back often to assess Malachi’s progress; so far he was keeping up, though his face looked haggard and sweat-slicked and he kept a hand on his injured side.

She thought about asking him if he was okay, but assumed she’d only get a gruff of course. He held on to his pride as tightly as he did his wound.

But she did check on Maris and Helena, who brought up the rear.

“You didn’t have to come,” she said. “It’s a long hike.”

Maris shrugged.

Helena said, “I thought we’d collect some pox berries on the way back. We can tip our blades with their poison—it might give us an advantage in our fight for the boat.”

Nomi rubbed away the sudden chill from her arms.

“Will you be okay here?” Nomi asked Maris. They scrambled over a rock fall, using their hands to push themselves up. Maris wasn’t trained for battle, not like these girls.

“I’ll be fine,” Maris said. “I’m happier here than I ever was at the palazzo.” But a shadow passed across her face.

“What is it?” Nomi asked.

Maris brushed the dirt off her hands. “It’s nothing. I just… I keep thinking about Cassia. All the Graces, really. Rosario said that if a Superior dies, the Heir decides their fate. That means Asa decides for them.”

A new chain of guilt wrapped itself around Nomi’s chest. She hadn’t even thought about Cassia and the others. About Angeline, the sweet handmaiden who’d helped her after Serina was taken away. “Surely he’ll send them home. And I… I suppose choose his own.” He’d told her he didn’t want Graces, that he wanted a queen. Just another of his lies to ensnare her. He was probably thrilled at the prospect of his own Graces.

“The poor girls,” Maris said, her face a storm cloud.

Nomi thought about the way Asa had charmed her. Disarmed her.

Used her.

“Yes.”

At the head of the line, Val stopped. They all gathered in the shade of a scrubby stand of trees. “Short break,” he said. He didn’t look at Malachi, but Nomi did. The Heir was struggling. But he was still upright, and he took the water Val offered gratefully.