Antonia watched the captain leave before slumping against the table, running her hands over her face.

The chair scraped from the end of the table. Nema's feet appeared in her peripheral view. "Antonia-"

"Is this why you wanted to go to Htraeh instead of Cambria?" Antonia asked, looking up. Nema's mouth dropped. "Have you been a Revolutionary all along? Are you-?"

"I'm not a Revolutionary." Nema knelt beside her. "I wanted to bring you to Htraeh because they made the prophecy. I was just born there, Antonia. I don't even-" Antonia pushed her chair back. "I am on your side." Nema moved to block Antonia from getting up. "If you want to go to Cambria, I will go to Cambria. If you want to learn how to use your magic, I'll help you. If you want me to never speak to you again, I'll give it my best shot." A long pause followed. Antonia avoided her gaze, but it was hard. Everything about Nema demanded attention in a way Antonia couldn't understand. "What do you want, Antonia?" she asked. At that, Antonia let her eyes move to study the few inches between. "Because I'll do it."

What did she want? Her father? Her sister? To know her brother and mother were alive? Her home? Or maybe just this knowledge of her magic? Maybe even some knowledge of herself.

When she opened her mouth, those weren't the words that came out.

"I want the Revolutionaries dead. I want my country back." Antonia licked her lips, looking down. "If Trajan is still alive... he needs a throne." She could still feel Nema's gaze on her. If she had any opinions on Antonia's words, she didn't reveal them. "I want to be the one to give that to him. To do something good with this," she said, holding out her palms. "I'm already living with Lucius's blood on my hands. I need to make sure it was worth it."

Nema looked down at Antonia's open palms and ran her fingers over them. The action sent a tingle through her, warmth flooding Antonia's cheeks.

"You are good," Nema promised and stood up. Antonia smiled weakly but followed suit, feeling like she could breathe again. No matter what the world may bring, she at least had Nema. It was the only reassurance she had in moments like this.

When they stepped outside the cabin, it was to find a crowd of people still huddled in the center of the boat. There was an odd mixture in the air, wariness as distrustful eyes watched her while admiration hovered somewhere in the corner. A couple of Romanovians bowed their heads. Cretara gave her a small salute in greeting.

Antonia met the eyes of the crew member who had been arguing with the woman the other night. He jutted out his chin indignantly. Antonia ignored him and walked to where the captain stood behind a large wooden wheel, looking out over a golden horizon.

"Your leg," she greeted. The Htraehean from earlier drifted closer, but she ignored him. The captain looked down and grunted. "You're limping."

"I am," he agreed. "I kicked a man in the face and pulled a muscle. It happens when you get older," he said wisely. Antonia felt the smoke in her hands begin to move. Again, that thread was between her fingers. It wasn't as natural as it was with the mermaids, but there all the same.

The smoke grew thicker.

A gasp sounded from somewhere behind her. The captain didn't flinch. He looked at her with thinly veiled interest. Someone gave a low whimper, but before Antonia could register that she had raised her hands, the smoke curled around the captain's leg before vanishing altogether.

Could she have...?

"Better?" she asked as if she had any idea what she had done. There was a horrifying chance she had done something awful, like turn his bones into goo or something equally terrible.

The captain looked down and kicked out his leg. He kicked again and grunted. "Not bad," he decided.

Antonia felt the smallest of smiles touch her lips. Pulling her shoulders back, she nodded. "It's a thank you for dinner," she decided. The captain rolled his eyes and nodded. Antonia turned back to find more of the crowd watching her.

Glancing at Nema, she jerked her head. "You," she added to the Htraehean from earlier. "I want to talk." The man approached cautiously. Antonia smiled, channeling her inner Octavia. "I have a deal I'd like to discuss with you."

"A deal?" the Htraehean repeated, voice accented. He turned to Nema and said something in Htraehean. She pursed her lips, looking irritated, before translating Antonia's words.

"Your Htraehean is terrible," he told her. "How long has it been since you've used it?" Nema made a face at him, saying something else in Htraehean that made the man put a hand over his chest before giving a low 'hmph' under his breath. Nema glared at him. "Go on then, princess," he said, turning back to Antonia. "What deal is this?"

Antonia continued walking, moving to the opposite end of the ship to look at where the golden water was parting as they sailed forward. Her mind was spinning. Tapping her fingers over the wood, she took a deep breath and spun around to face the Htraehean.

"The prophecy," she said loudly. Too loudly. The man blinked a few times. "What is this prophecy exactly?" The Htraehean looked at her. Antonia tilted her head, waiting for an answer. "Who even gave this prophecy? How do you know it's real?"

Nema walked over to her, putting her elbows against the railing behind her. The Htraehean ran a hand through green hair. It looked like a bunch of moss dumped on his head. It seemed a little ridiculous for the captain to have insinuated that Nema wasn't as pretty as the average Htraehean when the one in front of her looked vaguely like a swamp monster.

"We have prophets in Htraeh," he said, shrugging. "Those who dedicate their lives to speak to a god. If the prophet is favored, the gods sometimes show them visions of the future. Many years ago, a prophet received such a premonition." He gestured Antonia up and down. "A child of Life would be born and lead a war against Cambria on behalf of the gods."

"A child of Life?" Antonia repeated, thinking of the Dualians' whispers in Savoy's castle. "I thought the prophecy was about someone with black magic." She looked down at her hands again. She was certainly no child of Life. All that surrounded her these days was death in destruction.

"It's the same thing," he said, wrinkling his nose. "It...uh..." He turned to Nema. "What is that Romanovian word?" he muttered.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked, and when the man tried to tell her, she cut him off. "Sorry, my Htraehean is terrible."

"The gods cursed you with a sharp tongue and dull mind," the Htraehean grumbled back. Nema made a face. After a few seconds of snapping, he clapped his hands together. "Mixed! The magic is mixed."

"Mixed?" Antonia repeated.

"Mixed," he said with a proud nod. "Magic comes from the gods-"

"According to Htraehean religion," Nema cut in dryly.

The man leveled her with an irritated look before continuing. "Earth magic is from the gods Thrae and Lios. Their powers are green. Fire magic comes from Erif and Taeh. Their powers are orange. Air is Ria and Dniw, who both have purple powers. And, of course, Retaw and Aes have blue powers for water. If you mix them all together," he gestured to Antonia, closing his hands into fists and then popping them open. "Life!"

"Nonsense," Cretara sang as she walked by, lifting her hands to show her hands. "Take it from someone who actually mixes magic together for a living."

"You're a mistake of nature," the Htraehean said, refusing to even look at her. "And a plague upon the gods."

"A basic education will inform you that green, orange, purple, and blue make the color brown," Cretara said. Antonia looked between them, unsure how to respond.

"It isn't like mixing paint," the Htraehean said patiently. "Magic is different-"

"What do you know about magic?" Cretara asked incredulously. "You're not even allowed to touch it."

"Who even asked you over here?" he began, voice rising.

...right. Antonia swallowed as they continued to argue. She certainly didn't feel as though she had the powers of any ancient Htraehean gods.

"The prophecy states a child born with magic," the Htraehean continued loudly, talking over Cretara's arguments. "This child did not steal from the gods like others in this world. It is a gift to the Htraehean people and a sign that it is time to return all magic to the gods before the clock resets. The Reformer."

Nema looked away. Antonia knew it was to hide her face so he wouldn't see her roll her eyes. She wondered if Nema's parents had said similar things to her and how she felt about it now. Antonia nodded, brows furrowing together as she tried to focus her thoughts away from Nema and onto the conversation at hand.

"And you believe this prophecy?" she asked curiously.

Htraehean blinked a few times, seemingly appalled at such a question. "It is not a belief. It is a matter of truth. The gods relayed this information to our prophet. If others choose to pretend their words are fantasy..." He gave a derisive shrug. "I cannot help them."

Right. Sure. Antonia bit her lip.

"So, in theory, I'm meant to lead a war against Cambria," she said. The Htraehean nodded. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Elbon," he answered.

Antonia nodded. "And why are you on the way to Cambria if you have such hatred for one another?" she asked. Elbon pulled back his sleeve. Colorful pictures covered most of his skin, the pale skin inked. She leaned forward to study them with curiosity.

"I'm a delegate for the Htraehean council. It is my job to travel between countries on behalf of Htraeh... even if that means I must visit Cambria," Elbon said, grimacing. Cretara made a face from behind him. "It is no coincidence the gods put the Reformer in my path."

Romanov didn't have anything like fate or destiny in its scripture. Only the will of the living and the spirits. There was something oddly enticing about the idea that something was planned. A clear path for her to follow. A guiding light or maybe even just a subtle tug of a string. Antonia's palms tingled at the thought.

"I'm going to Cambria to learn to use my magic from the Chosen Family," she said. Elbon opened his mouth, but Antonia cut him off. "I'm doing this. If you'd like me to return with you to Htraeh, I will do so, but only after learning my magic." She hesitated and then took a long breath. "And only after I win back my brother's throne."

Nema's head jerked up. "Antonia-" she began quietly, but Antonia had already started speaking again.

"If you want me to lead this war against Cambria, you will help me win back Romanov. I hear Htraeheans are fierce fighters?"

"Antonia," Nema tried again, looking panicked. Cretara also blinked, expression taken aback as she turned vengeful eyes on Elbon. "Can I speak to you for a moment?" Nema asked and pulled her arm, leading her away from a baffled-looking Elbon. "Think this through," she whispered when they were far enough away. "This is a very dangerous war, and you cannot go into Cambria territory after promising their enemy you'll use your magic to help them."

"Trust me," Antonia said, slipping out of her grasp and pushing a strand of hair away from Nema's face. "This is just a religious war."

"That's the most dangerous kind!" Nema insisted. "I know it isn't important to you, but for many people, religion dictates how we see the world and what it means to exist. People take that seriously, Toni."

"It isn't going to become a war," Antonia promised her, though she had no idea where the confidence was coming from. "I can handle Htraeh and Cambria. I'll need them both to find my family and take back Romanov." Nema gave her a stern look. "Trust me," Antonia repeated softly.

Nema swallowed, looking over her shoulder at where Elbon and Cretara were waiting.

"I do, but-" she started. Something on Antonia's face must have shown because the words seemed to evaporate from her mouth. She took a step back. "Okay," she said and forced a smile. Antonia brightened at it, feeling warmth flood her at the subtle vote of confidence. "Tell me what the path to peace is, Antonia Thalestris."