Clearly the poor boy didn’t want to risk disobeying either of his majesties.

And Vivia couldn’t help it: she started laughing. First it was just a bark of air, but then it quickly burgeoned and bloomed into something so full and rich, she couldn’t contain it. And the more she laughed, the more furious and tense the Empress became—which only made Vivia laugh harder. It just toppled out of her, as relentless as a burst dam.

She couldn’t remember when she’d laughed this hard. Months ago. Years. Maybe never.

Eventually, even Cam was chuckling too, albeit nervously. Vaness, however, remained wrathful. “What,” she said in a voice made of ice chips, “is so funny?”

“Us,” Vivia squeezed out between laughs. “You … and I. The world might be a mess, Empress, but…” Noden save her, were there tears in her eyes? “But you and I are still just two bitches in an alley who think we own the street outside.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“And you don’t need to know.” Vivia wiped her eyes and towed the Empress toward her—a familiar movement with her arm slinging around Vaness’s shoulders. And though she could tell Vaness really didn’t want to smile, the Empress also couldn’t quite hold one at bay. “Lead us to Noden’s Gift, Cam,” Vivia said, tugging the Empress into a saunter. “And as we walk, Her Majesty and I will discuss calmly—like the logical, thoughtful Well Chosen that we are—why she is for and I am opposed to working with the Red Sails. I shall go first.”

“No.” Vaness bristled against her. “I will go first.”

Vivia only laughed all over again.

On the beach below the Origin Well, Stix stared up at the woman who was her Threadsister and her queen. Vivia had just abandoned the cliff’s edge, her arm around an empress while the wind tangled her hair and toyed with her coat. One step, two steps, three, and she was gone.

A knot clenched in Stix’s belly as the lens-shattered image of Vivia, the Empress, and Cam disappeared. It wasn’t indigestion, it wasn’t hunger, and it wasn’t her moon cycle either. Yet it hurt as much as all of them combined, and she kneaded uselessly at her belly. Ryber had been right when she had warned Stix not to come back to say goodbye.

With a harsh puff of air, she launched herself for the nearest cluster of jungle. Hunters and sailors and civilians prowled within the trees, but Ryber had traced a path separate from prying eyes. Stix ducked around a cypress and found Kahina waiting for her, leaning against the edge of the Origin Well’s plateau. White streaks of limestone marked her red coat.

“You will come here again one day.”

“I know,” Stix said, even if her gut wasn’t so sure.