Akeylah unbolted the latch. Yanked the door open. Rozalind took one glance at Akeylah’s stricken expression and caught the letter before Akeylah could protest. Skimmed it. Then Rozalind’s arms were around her, and thank Mother Ocean for that, because Akeylah didn’t know if she could stand on her own. She buried her face in the queen’s shoulder, shaking.

“We’ll figure this out,” Rozalind whispered against her temple.

“How? They want me to put my sister on trial. If she’s convicted, treason is punishable by death.”

“If she’s convicted,” Rozalind replied. “There’s no way to know how a trial would go until we hold one.”

Akeylah jerked from her grasp, stung.

“What’s the matter?” Rozalind’s brow creased.

“You agree with this monster?” She snatched the letter back, shook it at Rozalind. “You think I should do it. Arrest her, make a spectacle of her.”

“It’s Kolonyan law, Akeylah. If she’s innocent, a trial will prove it.”

“And if she’s not?” Akeylah’s throat tightened with grief.

“Then the tribunal will deliver an appropriate punishment to fit her crime. Akeylah, I’m sorry, I know you care about your sister, but she made her choices. At the end of the day, Florencia has no one to blame except herself. If she’s guilty,” Rozalind added quickly.

Akeylah stared at her in stunned disbelief. “You’re just like all the other nobles. In your mind you’ve already condemned her.”

“I never said that. But you must distance yourself from her, Akeylah. Sympathy toward a suffering sister is one thing—we can explain it as familial pity, once you’re crowned—”

“Once I’m what?” Her eyebrows shot skyward.

“Collusion, however, is another thing,” Rozalind spoke over her. “We cannot seem too close to Florencia, or people will question your authority. ‘First one heir spies for Eastern rebels, now an Easterner sits on our throne.’ ‘Can we really trust anyone who isn’t Kolonyan?’ You can’t afford those kinds of questions so early in your reign.”

Akeylah stormed across the room. “Crowned. Reign. You seem to think this a foregone conclusion, Rozalind. But there’s still this blackmailer to contend with, even if my sisters are denounced. And have you given up on your husband already?”

“Already?” Rozalind flung her arms up. “The mender told us he’d live a week, two at most. That was six days ago.”

“Zofi’s looking for a cure—”

“A cure you’ve been seeking for over a month now, with no progress. When will you learn that you need to plan more than one step ahead in this game?”

Akeylah folded her arms. “My father’s life, my sisters’ reputations, those are games?”