After I've put Finn to bed that night, I find myself wandering the palace. I've done this a thousand times by now, mostly when I'm cleaning, but tonight's different.

I'm going somewhere, but I can't really be sure where.

The palace feels cold. A wind cuts through the dark hallways, inching out of the crevices and cracks. I let my feet carry me—

Into the kitchens where Josef and I bonded over taffy.

Past the dining room where Amaia told me the story of her father, the soldier.

Through the entryway where I first saw Eero up close.

Into the garden where my life was almost cut short.

I walk close to the stream, avoiding debris as much as possible. The house staff has done the best they can picking up branches and repairing boundaries, but the flowers still lie flattened by the wind. Rocks are shattered where they used to form a path. Petals cover the ground like morning dew. I wish I could have helped them clean, but Eero wouldn't let me.

One day, we'll have to tell the rest of the palace what I am and where I came from. While my secret is safe in the hands of Amaia, Eero, Josef, and Sam, I know this peace can't last forever.

Sooner than I'm comfortable with, I'll have to face my own deception. Come clean to everyone.

For now, though, I get to focus on one problem at a time.

The gentle tug in my stomach pulls me away from the main path. A smaller, more shadowed walkway cuts through the underbrush. Crickets complain as I stomp through short foliage and shove branches out of my way.

The area feels familiar, but the truth doesn't hit me until I see moonlight streaming through the leaves ahead. The wind returns, and I draw my coat tighter around me.

She's taking me to the cemetery.

But why?

I duck through the last curtain of greenery and come to a complete stop as the scene unfolds in front of me.

Once again, a dark figure stands over one of the gravestones. He's upright this time, and his new crown hangs limply from his hand. His black curls are silhouetted against the mother-of-pearl moon overhead. Beside him is a fresh mound of dirt, not yet marked by a stone.

"Eero?" I call over, wrapping my arms around myself.

He doesn't look at me as he replies, "Come here, rød fisk."

That's all the invitation I need. I walk to stand beside him, and together, we observe the graves of his parents.

The silence says everything that needs to be said. In the song of the insects, I hear a country mourning its past rulers. The stars overhead dance to comfort a man forced to grow up too fast, to deal with too much too quickly. The birds respect their new king with a moment of peace and reverence. I lean my head against his arm and breathe in the emptiness.

"He was a good father," Eero whispers. "And an excellent king."

"It was Zula," I remind him. "He's destruction incarnate. He ruined Soren."

"I know." He sighs and rubs his forehead with the back of his crown-holding hand. "And he will pay for what he's done, but... I'm not sure I know how to fill the gaping hole they left me. I can't—" His voice catches, and I hold his arm to give him strength. "I can't do this alone, Ari."

I squeeze him. "Then don't. I'm right here. We'll figure it out together." After a beat, I add, "One day at a time, okay?"

Eero nods, his head lolling over to rest on top of mine. Neither of us move for a long time. Fatigue creeps in, and my eyelids start to droop. After a few more minutes, my chin collapses forward into my chest as I drop into sleep, and I jerk it upright again.

"We should head back," he says softly, placing the crown on his head and reaching to sweep me up.

"I can walk, your majesty," I scold sleepily.

He laughs and straightens back up again. "Whatever you say."

Grinning, we head back towards the overgrown path. We've not made it more than a couple of steps when the sound of someone running towards us brings us to a stop again. Eero puts his arm in front of me, pushing me behind him. I start to snap at him that I don't need protecting, but considering I'm winded from just the walk down here, I let him guard me.

Just this once.

The shadow that appears before us is familiar, though.

"Your majesty," Magnus shouts, waving at us from the treeline. He's out of uniform, dressed in loose fitting-pants and a sleeveless shirt. Even in the dark, the scars from his time as a slave shine white. Clearly, this man was about to get in bed.

Eero confirms my suspicions when he asks, "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

Magnus nods. "I was about to, sir, but you need to read this." He jogs the rest of the way to us and hands the prince a scroll. The paper inside is thick and gray, tied with a red silk ribbon. There's a black wax seal atop the ribbon, making it extra secure and official.

I can't see the emblem itself on the seal, but Eero must be able to. His face twists in concern.

"When did this arrive?" he asks.

"Just now. The men on guard brought it to me, and I ran straight here."

"You've not opened it?"

Magnus shakes his head. "Figured it was your business, considering it's from the north."

My stomach drops.

Snejorn.

What could the northern kingdom want with our new king?

Eero pops open the seal with his nail and unrolls the sturdy paper. I watch his face, waiting for some sign of what's inside. His eyebrows stay tight for a while, but then, it all shifts. Shoulders tense; eyes narrow. Panic stabs itself into my stomach wound, turning my nerves inside out.

"What is it, Eero?" I ask.

"A declaration of war," he replies, looking up at the two of us. "Snejorn is attacking at dawn."