A fierce smile crosses the princess’s face, more teeth than necessary. “When I first met you,” she says. “When I was angry at you. I knew that you were a lie, that you were lying on top of lies. I know how all the prophecies happened. I had a theory, see. My theory was, the salves let me read other people. In dreams, when I was awake. That’s a thing they can do, you know? Telepathy. There’s a huge branch of research, here and on the Capital. It’s very rudimentary. Doesn’t work on normal people. But I thought I had it, you know? I was picking up all these clues about people’s inner lives, and together with the knowledge I had as Imperial princess, in the center of all that power … My salve-muddied brain wasn’t predicting the future. It was synthesizing probabilities from points of data. Like a human AI.”

Misery pulls her hand away. “So telepathy was more plausible to you than prophecy?”

“It was,” Alodia Lightning says. Eyes wild, teeth glinting. “I refused to believe in a Larex Forge. Stupid stories that people made up because they’re chickenshit in a scary universe. But I refused to believe in a god that cruel.”

“And then I came along.”

Her lips widen. “And then you came along. And you were a liar too. Another purveyor of bullshit. I thought I knew you. And you thought you knew too.” She reaches out, crosses the gulf again. One oval nail taps the gleaming surface of her amulet. “But this. How did I predict this? You, a thousand galaxies away, already living your life. Already set in motion. You, coming to me. You, making what I had said real.”

“Almost like it was preordained,” Misery says.

“Almost like it was preordained.” Alodia Lightning’s voice drops to a whisper. She ducks her head forward. “So. I believe. I believe it now. Do you?”

Misery stares at her. Princess. Prophet. A dear comrade, a tender, living thing. A miracle before her. There are threads in Misery’s life story only now being made whole, the missing pieces stitched into the gaps one by one. But these days have been a revelation for Alodia Lightning, a straightening of the tangle of her life. Suddenly, it all makes sense. The two of them are mirrored, in tandem, one of them explaining the other. Almost like it was preordained.

“Yes,” Misery says at last. The conviction hardens as the syllables leave her mouth. “I believe. I do.”

CHAPTER 21

In sleep, Misery Nomaki dreams.