“And the others? You don’t talk about them much.” He pressed a button to lower the ramp. “Don’t tell me they’re worse than Selene.”
“No one can be worse than her.” Kalie smoothed her hair and peered at her blurred reflection in the gleaming metal wall. “Danae’s my half-sister, but she’s my favorite. Rian’s the youngest. He inherited Renan through my mother’s father. I doubt we’ll see them, though. Rian comes to visit as often as I do, and Mother goes out of her way to separate Danae from us.”
Zane mouthed the names silently, as if trying to memorize them.
Mustering up the last dregs of her energy, Kalie shuffled down the ramp. On the tarmac, a peculiar scene greeted her: sopping wet guides, massive puddles of water, a sunny sky and a gentle breeze. The artificial weather generators had kicked back in.
The guides knelt to Kalie. Six burly Praetorian Guards waited behind them, wearing burgundy uniforms and carrying both pulsers and ceremonial staffs. They pounded their staffs into the ground, then bowed.
She winced. She didn’t deserve that royal greeting, not now.
“We’ll take the underground entrance.” A Praetor gestured to a supply shed. “There’s a shuttle waiting downstairs to take us to the cellar.”
Kalie pursed her lips. If the underground passage was anything like the one in Father’s Imperial City palace, it was dark and cramped. Though Mother had snubbed her before, she’d at least had the courtesy to receive her in the entrance hall.
But Iliana and Carik were hunting her, and a grand welcome would send up a flare for every legionnaire, mercenary, and Dalian traitor trying to convince Iliana of their loyalty. Mother was being smart about this. Surely they’d just greet her on the underground platform instead.
“This way, Princess.”
Zane took three strides forward before Kalie realized the guard was talking to her. Only one syllable was missing, but here,PrincessHannover would always be Selene or Danae. The title wasPrincessainthe ancient language of Dali, but that was too foreign for the Etovians, who preferred the Federation’s Galstan. Or maybe they just preferred to address her by her Etovian title.
Or maybe they called herPrincessbecause she could no longer return to Dali.
Kalie hung her head as she trudged after them into the shed, hobbled down a flight of stairs, and climbed into the rickety shuttle beside Zane.
The tunnel’s lights blinked out, and the shuttle lurched forward. She slammed into the rusted metal bar, stifling a cry as it collided with her ribs. The bar’s creak echoed in the dark tunnel.
As a distant light grew closer, she focused on her breathing, channeling her exhaustion and irritation out with each exhale. Selene would taunt her, Mother would jab at her, and Theron would look on with his usual indifference, but she couldn’t react. She would be the picture of deference and modesty. She would curtsey and offer her thanks, and though it would be galling, she would apologize for her impertinence on Dali.
The shuttle screeched as it jolted to a stop. Kalie collided with the safety bar again, clenching her teeth as her bandaged side burned. Plastering a smile on her face, she looked up.
Her smile faltered.
She scanned the burgundy-clad guards on the platform, searching for glossy black hair, or a sparkling Dalian pendant, or a tall man with a clipped black beard. As her heart pounded a desperate beat, she looked for a pregnant woman with ebony skin, but even Sadini was absent.
None of her family had come to welcome her.
Steam rosefrom the heaps of food on her tray as Kalie shoveled it into her mouth. She hardly took the time to chew the heavily spiced meat before swallowing it. It was embarrassingly undignified, butshe’d thrown etiquette out the door once Redmont’s Chief Doctor had closed it behind him. Her newly mended ribs ached. The twisting in her empty stomach was worse.
The door swung open, and as she jumped, her fork clattered to her plate.
Two mountainous Praetors loomed in the doorway. Both pounded their staffs into the ground, which could only mean one thing.
Kalie swallowed.
“His Supreme Highness is here to see you, Princess.”
Her stomach flipped as she set the tray on a stand beside her hospital bed. She shouldn’t have eaten so fast. She was going to be sick.
The guards parted, revealing a familiar face. His mustache and beard aged him beyond his twenty-one cycles. Aside from his icy eyes, her eldest brother was the spitting image of Father. He even carried himself the same way. They shared a name, a penchant for immaculate clothing, the imperious tilt of their chins?—
“You’re looking disheveled,” Theron said, leaning against the doorframe.
—and a maddening sense of superiority. Burying her pride, Kalie shifted the pile of silk blankets aside, rose to her aching feet, and curtsied.
“It’s good to see you, Your Highness.”
Theron’s blank expression didn’t falter as he waved her up. “You must be desperate if you’re using my title. Not too desperate, though. You left outSupreme.”
