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It would be devastating, not only for these citizens, but for all the world’s Wielders. Ansora represented a glimmer of hope. So what would it mean if this sanctuary were destroyed?

Valeria expression turned somber. “General Holden is young; he earned his title by defeating the last general in combat five years ago, and this would be the first treaty renewal under his authority. He can’t afford another soldier battling him for control. Which means he needs to show his people that he’s making the right decisions for the island. Your presence on Banarrat could steer those decisions.”

Self-doubt wormed into me. If I failed on Banarrat, I wouldn’t just lose the promise of Rheya’s protection; I would be responsible for losing a war. And while concealing my power in Daradon had been painful, it had been familiar. Manageable. The new fluidity of my specter could very well get me caught.

But Goren was wrong. I didn’t need his help; I needed to grow accustomed to this new spectral state.

And just like I always had, I would do it on my own.

“I’ll make you an appointment with my seamstress,” Valeria said, “but take whatever you like from here in the meantime.” She turned to leave, her root-like tattoo visible through her thin white camisole. It must have meant something significant for both Valeria and Goren to have chosen the design. I was about to ask her about it when she paused, opening the door a crack. “If there’s anything you can’t find, the staff will give you a key to my chambers.”

I frowned. “I’d need a key?”

“Unless you feel like trying to kick the door down.”

“No, I mean—Goren may have called me inexperienced with my power, but I can unlock a door.”

Valeria looked suddenly hesitant. “You misunderstand me. Ansoran locks are reinforced with dullroot, and the bedchambers are fitted with automatic locks for privacy. It’s a necessary safety precaution in an empire of Wielders.”

Startled, I looked at the open door and, for the first time, noticed how thick it was. How thick the walls were, too, as if to prevent spectral power from blasting through them.

Slow panic rose inside me. I hadn’t imagined that being in Ansora would limit what little freedom I’d always taken for granted. Locks had never been an obstacle for me; though I’d lived in confinement all my life, I’d never been trapped in any place smaller than the kingdom itself.

Not until I’d been trapped in Erik’s cell.

Tell me again how you’ll make it hurt. Tell me how you’ll enjoy it.

His voice skittered through my mind, quickening my heart rate—

“I took my door off the hinges my first day home,” Valeria murmured in somber understanding.

Because she had spent a month in the Capewells’ hold. She’d been in the dullroot-filled prison wagon Garret had brought on the night of the ransom exchange. She, like me, must have developed a fear of being trapped.

“I can’t promise that it’ll pass. Not when it hasn’t fully passed for me. But two weeks ago,” she said quietly, with an air of hope, “I put the door back up.”

10

My heart pattered as I faced the mirror.

Dressed in a cream camisole and moss-green riding trousers, I looked more like myself than I had in weeks, with my dark hair twined in a simple updo and a healthy kiss of color in my olive complexion.

Yet a desperate purpose hummed inside me, manifesting in the swoops under my eyes.

Though I’d appointed Tari as the seat’s counsel to mind Vereen in my absence, I still felt a sense of duty—not just toward my province, but toward my entire kingdom.

And during Rose Season, I’d started nurturing the belief that I could save Daradonian Wielders from persecution. Back then, I’d thought Erik himself would provide the avenue I needed. That the power he would grant me—the power of a queen—would allow me to unravel the Execution Decree from within.

Now I knew: Erik never would’ve granted me the power to undo that particular cruelty. He’d secretly contributed to the slaughter himself with his copycat Hunters—had murdered Wielders like my friend Marge and had relished the bloodshed. As long as he remained on the throne, the Wielders of my home would live in fear, and many would die in fear, too.

Erik therefore had to fall.

Like Valeria, I didn’t believe he would fall unless he experienced a personal defeat, leaving him distracted or vulnerable. But unlike her, I knew where he’d focused his ambitions: within the compass. As long as it existed, he would fight to reclaim its power.

Which meant that its destruction wouldn’t just ensure the safety of the Wielders he planned to target. It would provide the catalyst for his defeat. Carmen could make her move against him, Rheya would support her . . . and Erik’s reign of cruelty would finally collapse.

And that ripple effect would begin here and now, with the first stone thrown. With me.

So, I tucked the compass into my little hip bag alongside my mother’s coin and hardened myself to my task. As long as Erik still hunted me, I wouldn’t truly feel this new freedom the way I longed to. But I refused to squander it.