“The ten with single noorestones are the entirety of the Red Fleet,” I said. “What is the name of the eleventh ship?”

“The Star-Touched, I believe.”

“It’s likely he has the Great Mace—a Khulani ship. He may follow, but if I’ve learned anything about him, it’s that I shouldn’t try to guess what he’s going to do.”

She offered a faint smile. “Shall I have refreshments brought in?”

Apparently, Paorah wasn’t the only one who liked being unpredictable. I nodded, and a short time later, her personal servants arrived from the palace, bearing trays of fruit tarts and sweet drinks. We kept the remainder of our conversation to small, trivial things, though it hardly eased the tension. It was only a matter of time before everything fell apart.

Things I knew for sure:

1. I was no politician.
2. I really didn’t want to be.
3. Apolla was born for this.

From the small window, we watched workers bring cart after glittering cart of regular noorestones to the park. The crystals were dumped right onto the scorched grass, in the depression carved by the giant noorestone. The gentle, safe hum of these noorestones surrounded my thoughts, cushioning me from the crush of anxiety that threatened every time I wondered if I really could heal these dragons. We were so far from home, and if this didn’t work . . . nothing would.

Three hundred noorestones.

Five hundred.

Seven hundred.

As the noorestones piled up in a ring around the dragons, I imagined holds going dark, and cabins lit only by ambient light through the portholes. Hundreds upon hundreds of people confined to darkness aboard the ships they’d hoped would carry them to safety.

Apolla must have caught my look, because as the last cart was wheeled away, she said, “I know it’s not the same, but I’ve ordered mages to carve light sigils into the walls of the ships. It’s difficult to say how long trials and treaties will take.”

“Thank you.” It was an unexpected kindness.

Of course, it was also possible it was an excuse for her mages to board the ships and carve listening sigils—or something even less desirable.

We finished the last of our treats and went outside, where the hot glare of the afternoon sun had eased with the first edges of the coming storm. The air was cooler, and a few early droplets of rain pinged off the guards’ armor and darkened the white silk of Apolla’s dress, but if she was annoyed about being out in the rain, she didn’t show it.

“These don’t hurt to look at,” the empress said as we approached the ring of noorestones, and the small path left as an opening for us. Raindrops bounced and dripped off the faceted edges of the crystals, shining beautifully. “Why?”

“The stability.” I picked up one of the crystals as we passed, letting my thumb slide across the smooth, damp facets. “I’m going to try my best,” I said. “I’ll give the dragons every bit of energy these noorestones have, but I can’t promise they’ll be completely healed. You need a proper sanctuary.”