Ro and I fight together, our limbs falling into the dance of warfare in a way they never did in sparring. Rowan ducks low and lashes out with her blade, causing the human she’s engaged with to jump back in defense—straight into my own sword. She pivots, leaping with her right leg while she stabs backward with her sword, meeting an oncoming human’s shoulder blade.

A call comes from above us as two arrows fall in quick succession. The soldier falls dead. Rowan wheels around, looking for more enemies. Her bad leg trembles, but her grip on her sword never falters. The moment of relief stretches, and stretches again like a welcome horizon.

Roars carry in the air—they are not cries of pain or war but of victory. It’s only after I catch my breath that I dare to hope.

We’ve won. Blinking sweat from my eyes, I squint into the sun to see who aided us, but Rowan recognizes him first.

“Ox!” she screams, sheathing her sword as she runs for him. The two embrace, but for once, my heart doesn’t sing in jealousy. “How did you escape?” she asks.

His hair and skin are smeared with soot and dirt. “Oh, you know, I talked my way out of it. They were quite reasonable.”

“Ox.”

“Fine, fine,” he says, relenting. “The first ones to find me were unarmed. I fought them off best I could, then snuffed out the lights and waited. When it was quiet enough, I dug my way out of the vent.” Ox looks around the remains of the battle. “Skies, we did it.”

Rowan makes a sound like, Oh, and I leave her to break the news about Tabrol. Summer wind wraps my bones in a familiar grace as I jog over to the remains of the Northern Gate and look over the edge. The teal of the sea winks back, not far below us, but still below.

Rowan, Ox, and Vera come join me. “The scholars have always said that the city would fall if the royal line fails,” Rowan says. “But it has failed, and we’re still here.”

“The king still lives. That was enough for all the years without an heir,” I say, but I’m trying to make sense of it all, too. That’s what we’ve always been taught, what we’ve always believed.

It’s as if all goes quiet except for one simple truth: the scholars were wrong.

Rowan looks to the palace. “Do you think it was another lie?”

“That’s too big of a thing to lie about,” Ox says.

I put my hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Maybe they were just … wrong.”

“Let’s find the others,” she says.