Kalie’s head pounded, but she smiled. “When will we strike?”
Gar’s expression was inscrutable. Though Sector Eight’s leader was halfway across the Federation, his aura of power stretched to Etov. She couldn’t read him through a projection, but she knew where he saw himself when it was all over.
His rebellion would only end when he’d taken Carik’s place. The others seemed to accept that he would be their leader.
Gar pressed his lips together. “It was your plan, Princessa. That decision falls to you.”
Kalie gaped at him, and he smiled grimly.
Schooling her expression into something neutral, she straightened and met the eyes of her allies. They had to strike before the Federation’s presence on Dali grew stronger, before the killings escalated, before the fissures in their alliance fractured, before the window of opportunity closed. The sooner they struck, the sooner she could free Uncle Jerran from prison and liberate her people from Carik’s brutality.
The day would go down in legends. Carik wouldn’t fall in a single strike, but the day she launched the attack would spell the beginning of his end.
“If you can get your fleets operational in two weeks…” There were no protests, so Kalie steeled her voice. “We’ll strike on the last day of the month.”
Undecemmensis-31. It would’ve been Lexie’s fifth birthday.
Now, it would be the day she avenged her death.
Etov, Sector 4
Undecemmensis-20, 817 cycles A.F.C.
“Someday,”Kalie said, “I’m going to tell you the story of your namesakes.”
Tears blurred the squirming infant’s face, but her goddaughter’s eyes shone, and they were unmistakably Dalian. Aunt Calida’s eyes, Lexie’s eyes, Mother’s eyes,hereyes. A child with the pale blue eyes of Dali, the ebony skin of Ason, the birthright of Etov, and the blood of Renan.
“Your dad gave you a beautiful name, you know that?” Kalie brushed her thumb across her niece’s smooth cheek. “Calida Lexicaira.”
Lida cooed, and Kalie smiled at her.
She carried Lida across the dark solar, seized one of the heavy burgundy curtains, and yanked it aside. Sunlight flooded into the room. “They were sisters. Calida and Caira. They argued and they fought, but at the end of the day… I think they loved each other.”
Theron had finally announced his daughter’s name, and Father’s face had darkened when his firstborn grandchild was named for his wife and the sister-in-law he’d hated. Theron’s choice to includeCairain the name had brought tears to Mother’s eyes, and that had been the biggest blow of all to Father—the name he’d erased from Mother was immortalized in Lida.
Staring out the window at Redmont’s rocky shore, Kalie bounced her niece in her arms. “Calida wouldn’t have been the Duchissa without Caira. At her darkest moment, when she had no hope of victory, your grandmother brought a fleet to save her. She was pregnant, but she came to battle anyway. I thought it was about ambition, so she could put an Etovian on the Dalian throne. But now, I?—”
A thunderous crash made Kalie’s heart stop. She whirled around, cradling Lida to her chest.
A knife—there was a knife on her dresser, but she wouldn’t get to it fast enough. She had to protect Lida?—
An Etovian Praetor stood in the doorway, breathing heavily. He pounded his staff into the ground and crumpled to his knees. Tightening her grip on Lida, Kalie glanced into the hallway. There was nothing there. Her usual Praetors stood on either side of the door.
Not an immediate threat. But danger, nonetheless.
“Your Highness,” panted the kneeling guard, “your father needs you in the command center immediately. He says it’s urgent.”
“What happened?” Kalie snatched her knife from the dresser. “Was there an attack?”
“No, Your Highness.” The Praetor stumbled to his feet. “A man has come from Dali. He has a message for your eyes alone.”
Kalie’s eyes widened. If Iliana found out, that messenger was risking death.
Yanking open the door to her antechamber, she passed Lida off to her nursemaid. Blood rushed in her ears as she kicked off her heels, slipped on plimsolls, and took off running. Her Praetors caught up to her, and she barked an order to summon Zane. Someone spoke into a comm.
She skidded to a halt before the command center.
The Praetors pounded their golden staffs. Barging past them, she threw open the doors to the cavernous room of screens.
