“What thefuck,” Noemi whispers.
Lucien grabs my wrist, pulls the Tear from my palm, and holds it to the light. “Was that a power you had already? Or did this cause it?”
I swallow hard, struggling to make sense of what I’m seeing. “I… don’t know what happened.”
That was most decidedlynota power I had already. I just created something out of nothing.
Create…
I draw in a sharp breath, eyes flying to Venna and Stark and Noemi. “The coronation,” I manage to get out through my shock.
The three of them just blink at me in confusion. I start to pace, certainty building inside me. “During my coronation ceremony, I had to perform those rites with the Mother Priestess. She drilled me in them over and over and over. I’ll never forget the words.”
I point to my forehead. “With mypower, I shall rule for all. Twice.” I point to Lucien’s forehead. “Two crowns.” My finger goes to my lips. “Withpersuasion, I shall speak to all.”
Lucien’s eyes light up. He’s getting it, even if the other three still look lost.
I hold up my right hand toward him, the one still holding the Tear. “I will keep my people first as Icreate.” Then I hold up my left hand. “Anddestroy.”
“Fuck,” Stark says in a low growl.
I point to my breastbone next. “My heart will aim toprotectinstead of harm. Twice. Two necklaces.” And I point to Lucien’s breastbone.
Lucien starts to laugh. Venna approaches me swiftly, cradling my right palm on her own as she inspects the Tear. “Do you truly think… ?”
“Yeah,” I say, mouth dry. “I think it’s been a road map this whole time. Which means the final Tear has the power of—”
“Destruction,” Lucien finishes. There’s a hungry eagerness to his face that alarms me.
“Destruction,” I agree. “So you’re right, Lucien. We can’t go to Blumenfall. But we also can’t go back to Astreona. If Killian and Alistair are still looking for this final Tear, we need to find it before them, or we’re all doomed.”
After that morose discovery, we all head to our chambers to rest. Stark is still barely looking in my direction, and I watch his broad back in retreat as he heads to his bunk room without me.
There’s a pang in my chest. “Is he ever going to forgive me for the tower?” I ask Anassa.
“Give him time,” Anassa says sleepily from where she’s settled with Cratos on the upper deck.“Get some rest.”
My small wooden room is quiet, apart from the creaks and groans of the ship around me. I tuck myself into my bunk. Every muscle in my entire body is exhausted. And yet my brain refuses to quiet, circling and circling around the meaning of the Tears.
Footsteps thud outside my door, muffled by the dark wood. I toss in my bed and shut my eyes, willing myself into slumber. But then my door swings open, no knock.
Stark steps into the room, his presence swallowing up what remains of the light.
“You’re here,” I say somewhat stupidly.
He stays in the doorframe, surveying the contents of my room. Since we’ve been on the boat, we’ve slept in his bunk room instead of mine. He hasn’t had to step foot in here, and I can tell instantly that he doesn’t like what he sees.
The entire contents of the bag I brought with me have been upended onto the floor—which is no longer visible. In my defense, there wasn’t much of a floor to begin with. The small armchair in the room is stacked with my mother’s journals and the book about the Sturmfrost Queens. And the slim dresser has several garments slung over the top of it, obscuring the drawers.
Stark’s already scowling face darkens.
“Okay, you know what, I didn’t invite you in here, so spare me the judgment,” I say saltily.
He crosses his arms over his wide chest. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. I can hear your thoughts, and we’re not even mentally connected right now.”
In three large steps—carefully avoiding piles of clothes—he reaches my bedside. “Scoot over.”
