Casimir’s jaw was locked tight, and his eyes shone with disdain, but he made no move to get up from the ground as the Stormlord crossed to Aurora, bent over, and began to unlock her manacles. Her heart faltered, then bounded off into a sprint as one leg came free, then the other. Without a word, he crossed to her hands. Hard breaths sawed in and out of her mouth as he released her, and gingerly, she pushed herself upright, her muscles protesting at the change after such a long time in one position. She looked warily between the Stormlord and the Locke prince. Her captor squared off between them, his arms crossed over his chest, and he stared at her.

His scarred eye narrowed slightly, and he said, “Well?”

“Well, what?” she asked, her voice a barely-there husk.

“You said you support the goddess’s will. It is time to prove yourself.” He stretched out his hand, and in his palm lay a knife.

Aurora’s hands trembled, and the days of dehydration made her mouth so dry she felt as if her throat were closing up. Or maybe that was just her unwillingness to speak.

“You want to be free,” the Stormlord continued. “You want to earn my trust and defeat the Lockes. Do this, and you will have taken a step toward all three.”

“You want me to kill him? Now?” She searched frantically for a way out of this, some escape.

The Stormlord shrugged. “If you want me to continue to teach you the ways of the goddess, I need to know you are on the right side.”

He offered the knife again, and this time she took it, wondering if she could use it against the Stormlord instead before he called a legion of tempests against her. She stood, her knees shaky from disuse. And she knew if she tried to run, she would probably fall. She was so weak.

Aurora looked at Casimir. He had been jovial when she first met him, but that had all been an act. She had heard him talk with Cassius behind her back, and he did not seem nearly so good-natured then. She’d seen the cruelty with which he treated the remnants, and knew he had been behind the burning of the Eye, but was that enough for her to justify harming him, potentially taking his life? What did she expect when she was queen? She would have to make these kinds of decisions—the hardest kind, of who was guilty and what they deserved—but she would not be the one to mete out the punishment. Did that make the blood any less on her hands?

Casimir lifted his chin and stared at her, blinking rapidly.

Aurora saw the moment he recognized her, his narrowed gaze going wide with shock.

She tried to convey with her eyes that she did not plan to hurt him.