Chioni’s room was small. The smallest room in the palace. She needed it that way. It facilitated a sense of crowdedness, a cramped feeling of suffocation. It kept her tense.

  Everything in the room was blue.

  The walls, the tiled floor, the curtains, the covers, the pillowcases, the chair. The windows themselves were paned with blue-tinted glass, but she never looked outside, anyway. Light crystals hung from a silver ring set in the center of the ceiling.

  A large portrait of King Statheros took up half a wall. Next to it was mounted a decorative replica of Queen Dynami’s old sword. Nearly every inch of every wall was covered with something; Tessera’s flag, pictures of each of the Founders’ symbols, framed quotes from influential people, a bookshelf filled with books she’d never read. Her desk was clean, organized, only because she never used it. Her study was in a different room — that was clean, too, only because she shoved all her mess into the drawers.

  There was a full-length mirror leaned against the wall, right next to the door, in a position where the door naturally blocked it whenever she opened it. She tried her best not to look at it. Even after all these months, the reflection still made her uneasy.

  She lifted Statheros’ portrait off the wall and set it carefully on the ground. Hidden underneath was a corkboard, dotted with pins and reports. Complaints from Soi of a cult. Something about a river in Meli. Empty graves in Thanatos. Bandits in Xifos. All issues the holders would need to address. Waiting until twenty was customary, but she didn’t have the time for that. The kingdom was in chaos. She needed to address it.

  And more than any of that . . . she kept looking at each complaint, trying to see if there was a thread. Aconite had been planning something. Most of the notes they’d found in her tower had been encrypted, but the ones that weren’t referred to a project . . . something she’d been working on for years. Chioni had to know. Had to find out what exactly the enchantress had been planning for her kingdom — and why she’d killed the queen.

  Her advisors dismissed it as a simple thing. Aconite was an enchantress; she had the motive to kill Queen Dynami, given the Magic Ban. That was it, they said. That’s all there was to it.

  But there was something more. There had to be something more. Aconite referred to the queen’s death as a single part — just a necessary step, not the end goal. Seeing Dilitirio for the first time, Chioni had immediately been cautious — who better to finish the plan than the enchantress’ heir?

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  It made sense. Everything about Dilitirio hinted towards it; in the seven months since her mother’s execution, she’d popped up in reports across the country under a dozen different names. Mostly petty crimes, but who knew what else she’d been doing? Now, with the Freedom Stone having chosen her . . . Chioni already knew Aconite’s magic could surpass that of a stone’s. Inexplicably, beyond all logic – but she’d seen it with her own eyes. How else could the queen’s death be explained?

  But it was one thing to surpass the stone’s protections, and another entirely to falsify the results. Chioni had never read of such a thing happening – of a false choosing. It hadn’t been a concern before now.

  And if Asimi Dilitirio was a true successor, then Aconite was more dastardly than Chioni could have ever imagined. And the curse, she thought, dizzily. Aconite could have placed it before her death. Before I received the stone. It could have laid dormant in me all these months. Ignited the second she saw her, face to face, the curve of her lips in that infuriating smirk, fire in her eyes like meteors streaking through the sky.

  Gang activity in Exedra. A protest in Arcadia that had been quickly quelled, but was of concern nonetheless.

  Maybe Aconite had nothing to do with any of these — but there was always a chance. Chioni hadn’t had the nerve to watch Aconite’s execution, something she’d always regret. Even now, she had her lingering doubts that the enchantress was truly dead. Could she be alive, somehow? Stirring unrest in Chioni’s kingdom? Or were these seeds of hers, planted long before her death?

  Even more unnerving — the dragons. Little clay models of dragons scattered all around the tower. Diagrams. Dragons were used by nobility as a symbol of power, but the things they found in Aconite’s tower weren’t symbolic. Careful anatomical pictures, a map of all the places dragons had lived in Tessera. If any part of her plan involved dragons, then Chioni had to ensure it would never come to pass. The Dragon Extermination Program had been a promise to their nation — safety from the dragons, forever. A dragon was disastrous on its own. Paired with that hit to the crown’s reputation, under her reign . . .

  She looked over at Aconite’s file. She’d taken it from the records without . . . exactly gaining permission, but she thought it necessary. Everything they knew about the enchantress — a seemingly law-abiding, dutiful citizen up until the point where she’d snapped. A powerful bloodline. A husband who’d served as a soldier. She had no reason to want anything to do with dragons.

  Unless . . .

  No. That couldn’t be right. Queen Arete had solved that . . . and Queen Dynami had inherited the solution. There could be no loose ends.

  She looked at the photo that she’d been given. The map on Aconite’s wall, Blaize Island circled in red.