“Perhaps you should be.” Kalie glanced at his pockets. She’d bet her crown that his hands were still shaking.
“Are you afraid of the man who destroyed your family?”
She sucked in a sharp breath. In her mind’s eye, all she could see was Carik. Carik, with a smug smile, Carik, gloating about his victory, Carik, giving the order to execute her and her family…
“Forgive me,” he said, bowing, “I meant no disrespect.”
“No.”
Mylis looked like a deer caught in a hovercraft’s headlights.
“No. I’m not afraid of him.” Her voice wasn’t as confident as she would’ve liked. “I can’t afford to be.”
He grimaced. “Neither can I.”
The clink of a spoon striking glass rang through the hall, and the orchestra fell silent. Murmurs swept through the ballroom. Uncle Jerran stood on center stage, with his champagne glass raised high. The lights shining on him made him look like the leading man in a play.
“I would like to propose a toast!” he called.
Commotion broke out as nobles scrambled to find glasses. Kalie swiped two off a passing waiter’s tray and handed one to Mylis.
“The loss of Her Majesty is a tragedy for our planet,” Uncle Jerran said, “but I know she’s resting easy now that her throne is in the capable hands of her niece. I’ve served four generations of duchissas, but never have I met one who loves Dali and its people as much as Kalista.”
All eyes shifted to Kalie, and she forced herself to smile.
It was a lie. His mother Coriana and Aunt Calida were rulers who’d devoted themselves to Dali. She was only here to avenge her family. When that was done, she had no intention of staying chained to this court. They hated her for her Etovian blood. Many wished her dead. With all the assassination plots her guards had foiled over the cycles, many had surely tried—so no, she didn’t love this court, she hated it.
Even the common people called herthe Butcher’s daughterandEtovian mongrel.
“So please raise your glasses in a toast to our next duchissa. May Kalista’s reign be long and prosperous!”
Cheers joined the ruckus of clinking glasses as the nobles drank. Kalie knocked her glass against Mylis’s and took a sip of the bubbly champagne.
Uncle Jerran wove across the room. Around him, a sea of nobles surged to get to her.
She stepped towards him, paused, and flashed Mylis a smile. “It was a pleasure talking with you, Mylis, but I need a word with my uncle. Please excuse me.”
He bowed his head.
She rushed away, slipping through the tide of courtiers. Uncle Jerran steered her to a secluded spot under the spray of a column of water.
“What was all that about?”
“I had to return the attention to you. I fear your indomitable mother is set on making your homecoming all about her.”
Kalie scowled. Mother’s crowd of courtiers seemed to be hanging on her every word. Selene had created her own rival court; her girlish laughs rang through the hall as she batted her eyelashes at younger nobles.
“She won’t admit defeat. I’ll be the Duchissa, but she’ll push to make Selene the Heredem.”
“Your eldest brother is expecting a girl, is he not? You could offer to raise her as your heir, as Calida did for you.”
“I’m no closer to Theron than Selene.”
“Until you have your own child, you have to pick someone?—”
“I know,” Kalie huffed. “But we have more important topics to discuss than my heir.”
“Such as?”
