Antonia had never camped in her life. Still, she stayed silent as she watched Viséan set up various tents for the night. It seemed precarious to Antonia, who could only imagine how easy it would be for someone to snatch them in the darkness, but Viséan hardly seemed bothered by the idea.

"I grew up in tents like these," he said, dusting himself off. "Whenever I was being evaluated, I lived in Raja, but when I wasn't, my mom and I were under the stars." He smiled a little, touching the cloth of the tent with a small smile.

Antonia tilted her head, playing with her pendant as she watched Viséan work. "I thought the Chosen Family wasn't... biologically related," she began tentatively. "But those who join are all considered related to one another, right?"

"We're adopted, yes."

"What about your mother?" she asked, tilting her head. Viséan's smile faltered. "I just... I mean, does she technically join the family too...?"

Viséan waved his hand, and Antonia's tent suddenly filled itself with bedding and other necessities. "No, but she would have been given high honors."

Would have.

Antonia thought of her family. Her heart ached. Viséan turned to leave, and Antonia called after him before she could think better of it.

"My father," she began. Viséan raised an eyebrow. But Antonia couldn't find the words she wanted to say. Emotions clutched the words in her throat, fear of something unknown dragging her voice into something even more unknown.

Luckily, Viséan seemed to understand something she didn't because he turned, dark eyes appraising.

"Your father was killed by Revolutionaries," he finished for her. Antonia nodded. Viséan pursed his lips, fingers tapping against his arm. "My mother was killed by Htraeheans."

Oh. Antonia stood there, still unsure of how to proceed.

"Why?" she asked, unable to come up with something better. By the spirits, she was terrible at this. Viséan smiled a little, probably thinking the same thing. Antonia felt her cheeks flush.

"She went to the Nameless Lands," Viséan told her. He took a step toward her, and Antonia tensed. He took a step back. "She liked to travel when I was in Raja. And one day, she ran across some Htraeheans who were trying to convince some expectant mothers to hand over their children to them to be raised in Htraeh, untouched by magic." Viséan's fingers twitched, lips curled in disdain. "My mother took issue with this. They fought. She died."

Antonia's throat tightened. "I am so-"

"Don't," Viséan said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not saying this for pity. I am saying this because the moment I was born, my mother sent me to Raja to be evaluated as the next leader. I made it through trial after trial, going between my mother to Raja without a care of what it meant. It was only after my mother's death that I understood the chance I had to one day rule. Make a difference. Protect people." He paused, swallowing. "My people," he added quietly. "I took evaluations more seriously after that."

Was that supposed to be advice? Antonia couldn't tell if he was genuinely revealing some part of his past or if this was something more calculated. Octavia had always prodded her to think critically of others' actions, but right now... she just saw a boy talking about his mother.

She took a breath and tried to think through the conversation again.

"I want the Revolutionaries gone." Viséan hummed, leaning against one of the poles holding up her tent. Stars twinkled above them, the white dots illuminating his face. "Do you want Htraeheans gone?"

Antonia had no quarrel with the Htraeheans. Elbon seemed fine. Nema's parents were from there. Could she help bring their demise if it meant getting Trajan on his throne?

"We'll go to war with them one day," Viséan shrugged. "If you believe in prophecies anyway. You are likely to play a key part in that."

Antonia closed her eyes. Exhaustion tugged every piece of her at the mere mention of yet another war.

Viséan must have sensed this because he pushed himself off the wooden pole. "I'll let you sleep," he said, giving a gracious nod. "Sleep well, princess."

And just like that, Antonia was alone. She stood next to the tent, unsure of what to do or say next as she tried to process the conversation. She felt like she had been given all the pieces to whatever puzzle she was meant to solve but no way to put them together. Sighing, she ducked into her tent.

A bowl of water sat to the side, reminding her how dirty she was. It wasn't enough to clean her, but she could splash her face and pretend to clean more of Lucius' blood off of her hands. It at least woke her up as she tried to decide if all of this was some elusive trap. Did Viséan have some other agenda that he-?

The tent flap moved behind her. Antonia jumped, jolting the bowl of water so it spilled over the floor. Dirt clumped together as she desperately tried to right it, fingers smearing with the sand and soil.

"Are you okay?" Nema's voice asked. Thank the spirits. Antonia relaxed, righting the bowl with a bashful smile over her shoulder. "Viséan didn't try anything, did he? Because I can-"

"No," Antonia said loudly and cleared her throat. "No," she repeated, softer. "I just... I'm... Thinking." Nema fell on her knees, gently grasping Antonia's hands from playing with the empty bowl. "Why is it just us traveling?" she asked, not meeting Nema's gaze.

"Us?" Nema repeated. "Do you mean why there are no guards? Those who met us at the boat stayed in Nos. I guess nobody thought the First Chosen needed an escort. Maybe a testament to his power-"

"But Elbon?" Antonia interrupted. "Cretera?"

Nema frowned. "What about them?" When Antonia didn't answer right away, two soft fingers touched the side of her jaw, patiently waiting for her to look up.

"Why are they here?" Antonia asked, gently pushing her hand away. "Why didn't you stop them from coming?"

Nema's lips pursed. Antonia could see her mind moving, a thousand thoughts racing behind her eyes. Sometimes, she wondered if Octavia and Nema would be good friends if they spent more time around one another. Something told her the answer would always be no.

"I didn't stop them from coming here for the same reason Viséan didn't," Nema finally said. Antonia shook her head. "People need to see you, Toni. So many stories will be told now that the world knows of your magic. It's better to let people see you and tell them than to... let them sit with their imaginations." Antonia put her face in her hands, chest tightening. How did she go from being hidden from the world to now the center of it? She wasn't ready for that amount of scrutiny. "I wouldn't let them hurt you-"

"I know." And Antonia did know that. She swallowed, picking at her nails. The tent felt too hot to her liking, and the bedding Viséan left her with seemed too thin. "I just can't imagine being the object of such discord," she admitted and sat down, breathing out. "I barely understand what is going on - let alone all who wish to use me for something." Nema bit her lip, long fingers reaching out to push one of Antonia's curls back. "Cretera sees me as an experiment," she said with a shrug. "Something to tell the Occult about when she returns, and Elbon... sees me as the Reformer. A person of prophecy to help them fight Cambria. And now Viséan sees me as a political toy to destroy Htraeh." She lifted a hand. "Meanwhile, my allegiance is with none of these people. I just want my brother on his throne and to be with my family." Antonia fell back on the sheets, staring at the top of the tent. "My family who... may not be who I thought."

Nema's hand moved to rest on Antonia's knee. "They did their best."

Ha. Antonia rolled her head over to give her a small smile. "You are too kind to me," she mused. "In the span of a few days, I've learned my parents made a secret deal with Cambria to heal my sister and convince your parents and their people to use magic while refusing to give any Romanovians any as payment." She scrunched up her nose. "You should hate me."

Nema scoffed. "I do not hate you," she said.

"I've killed a child," Antonia reminded her.

"I know," Nema said softly. "I do not hate you."

Insane. Antonia ran a hand over her face. She didn't know what to do with any of this. Everything just swirled in her head, the fragments of herself breaking down from chunks into something smaller. She hoped she could use the pieces to at least build something new.

"Viséan called you my wife," Antonia said, eyes still fixed above her. Nema didn't respond. It made her heart beat harder. "We've never... spoken about..." she trailed off, suddenly regretting even bringing it up.

It was true that Nema and Antonia had been very close for years.

And it was true that Antonia reveled in Nema's beauty. Her laughter. The way she smiled, how she smelled of rain, and the way she held magic in her hands. Antonia could listen to her voice the same way she could fall asleep to a harp. Nema was kind and stern and brave and powerful in a way Antonia couldn't be.

But, honestly, what did any of that even mean at the end of the day? And who was to say Nema felt such a way about her?

"If you married Viséan, you could have all of Cambria fighting for Trajan's throne," Nema said quietly. Antonia hadn't thought of that. She frowned, perking her head up. Nema pulled her knees up to her chest, dusting sand off the hem of her dress. She fixed Antonia with a sad smile.

It wasn't a bad idea. Antonia still hated it.

She hated it enough that she sat up, grabbed Nema's face, and kissed her.

Which, well, felt... Antonia felt a little like she had just punched herself in the face. A number of things were going through her mind: perhaps she should have asked, Nema might hate her for this, she tasted like cinnamon somehow, and this might be going on for too long.

It wasn't exactly their first kiss. Nema had quickly pecked Antonia on the mouth a few times, leaving her to marvel in absolute wonder as she fled about the castle. But it was the first time Antonia had been an instigator.

Nema's hand touched her jaw. The movement alone stilled her, a lightness in her chest as she opened her eyes to find Nema staring back at her. It lasted perhaps only another second before Antonia kissed her again, mind blanking on any potential political ploy.

Right now, in this tent, she'd fulfill her own prophecies, at least for now.