When at last Vivia and Vaness reached the canal street outside the Doge’s palace, the sun had reached its peak. Heat rose from the cobblestones, carrying the morning’s rain and the stink of sulfur and fish. Gone were the jasmine and rose; gone were the guards and attendants.

The main gate clamored shut behind them, final and disapproving.

A lone four-horse carriage waited nearby—an extravagance that had cost Vivia and Vaness most of the pitiful funding Vizer Sotar had graciously donated to their cause. They’d thought the price worth it at dawn, when they’d still believed they might turn an empire to their cause.

Now, all Vivia saw was more waste. More failure.

If Vaness felt as defeated as Vivia, she gave no indication while she waited, posture perfect, for the carriage to rattle their way. Soon it was before them, and the nearest door popped wide. Their lone attendant—if he could really be called that—scampered out with a stepping-stool.

That stool had cost an extra ten piestras.

“Majesties,” Cam Leeri said, offering a clumsy bow. “Did it go well?”

Vaness gave no answer; Vivia simply sighed.

And Cam winced. The reaction was short-lived, though, as it always seemed to be for the boy. With his dappled brown skin and its golden undertones, as well as his doe-dark eyes and quick smile, he was easily the most optimistic person Vivia had ever met. Sometimes it grated on her, but most of the time, it was refreshing to have someone so determined to see good.

It wasn’t until the carriage jolted to a start that Vaness finally spoke. “You know,” she said, gazing out the open window, “I understand your brother better now.” Wind tousled her hair. “Two months ago, when he lost his temper at the Truce Summit luncheon and blasted his winds, I thought him childish. Now I see the empires are unfeeling, and Nubrevna…” Vaness tore her gaze off the canals. Her dark eyes settled on Vivia’s. “You have always been at their mercy. At my mercy, which I did not give.”

“No,” Vivia said. “You did not.” And there was nothing else to say. Vaness was right. She had shown no mercy for almost twenty years, and now she was tasting the poison she’d once dispensed.

Cam cleared his throat. Outside, traffic and voices and horses filled the day, filled Vivia’s ears. But she didn’t tear her gaze from the Empress. One month they had been together, yet somehow, she felt she scarcely knew the other woman. Vaness had far fewer masks than Vivia—only one, in fact. Yet that Iron Bitch facade so rarely budged, so rarely revealed.

Even now, after a confession, there was only steel in her eyes.