Kalie sniffed. Hidden by his shoulder, she tried forcing her face into a mask of dignified composure. She failed miserably.
Lexie would’ve jabbered away to them about the adventures of her toys and imaginary friends. Ariah would’ve laughed and picked out her favorites, and Aunt Calida would’ve watched with a twinkle in her eyes. If Uncle Jerran had time to spare, he’d be waiting a step behind her.
Kalie’s lip wobbled. He was all she had left, now.
She drew on warm memories of listening to him read, pushing down thoughts of the others. Once she could hold her mask in place, she stepped out of his arms.
Two familiar figures waited behind Uncle Jerran. Kalie tensed.
She didn’t have time to muster a polite greeting as Mother rushed towards her, sweeping her into an embrace. “Oh, Kalista… my daughter…” Dramatic sobs punctuated her words, and the camera drones circling them flashed rapidly as they snapped pictures. “I thought I’d lost you, I didn’t dare hope…”
Of coursenowMother accepted she was alive, when she had no other choice and needed to save face. Kalie wanted to say something biting, but the court was watching, and her family drama had entertained their world for far too long.
She disentangled herself from Mother. That was their first hug in… five, six cycles? Fighting back a scowl, she gave a polite curtsey. “Your Majesty. It’s lovely to see you.”
“You needn’t be so formal, my love.” Mother dabbed at her dry eyes with a handkerchief.
Kalie flashed a bland smile, but she didn’t reply. Calling her by anything other than her title would confirm the false picture of familial love Mother was trying to paint for the media.
Selene hung back a few steps. She was clearly fuming, though her court mask was neutral. Her long black braid fell over an azure gown with a modest neckline and long, flowing sleeves. She usually dressed in the fiery colors and provocative styles of the Etovian court, but shemust’ve realized Dalian women would find Etovian dresses scandalous.
“Sister.” Selene’s voice was passably warm. “I was so glad to hear of your return.”
“We all were,” Mother chimed in, straightening her glittering diamond pendant. It had once been the crown jewel of Duchissa Coriana’s collection. “All of us awaited the arrival of the true heir to my sister’s throne.”
And yet you were scheming for Selene to seize it.
Mother probably hadn’t shed a single genuine tear for her.
Kalie forced another smile. “Your support is greatly appreciated.”
“Who’s your companion?” Selene asked, in a tone that would surely start rumors spreading.
Several nobles looked at Wells. Some seemed suspicious, others appeared baffled.
“This,” Kalie said, raising her voice, “is Zander Wells, son of Baron Wells of Avington.”
Murmurs swept between the nobles, and surprise flitted across Mother’s face. Selene glanced at the gold chrono on her wrist. She’d been born after the war, so she’d clearly never heard the name.
Folding his arms, Wells surveyed the nobles who lined the prickly hedges.
“He helped me return home at great personal cost, and I intend to make him one of my Guardsmen. I assure you, the charges against him are fabrications by Carik. I trust him.”
Wells’s brows climbed to his hairline.
She hadn’t said it earlier, but it was true enough. He hadn’t turned on her yet, and at this point, he didn’t have much reason to. He had nowhere else to go.
“They seem to be doing a lot of that these days.” Uncle Jerran turned towards the nobles. “I think we can all agree that Carik’s charges are baseless.”
The implication was clear in his pointed tone—there were people at court who believed Carik’s vile lies about her and Uncle Jerran.
Mother and Selene had probably coaxed those rumors along.
Uncle Jerran limped towards Zane. He’d been physicallyintimidating once, as the general of Aunt Calida’s forces in the civil war. But the war had destroyed him, and by the time Grandmother Madeleine and her lover Kain committed suicide and ended it, Uncle Jerran’s losses had changed him irreparably.
His fame, though, had grown greater. He’d already been the Prince of Selou, the Count of Merlea, and the Governor of Iestea—one of the four highest elected officials in the Dalian Collectivate, Dali’s legislative assembly. After he won the war and deposed his sister, he’d gained another moniker—the Throne Maker.
Now his name was both feared and respected.
