Kalie turned to Uncle Jerran, who sat at her right. His head was tilted to the side. He was assessing her.
Sweat beaded on her brow. She was on her own.
He wasn’t the only one studying her; at her left, Count Hewlett had a calculating look on his face.
Half of the nobles were out of their seats, jabbing their fingers at each other. Leighton slammed his fist down on the long oak table. Kalie jumped, but mercifully, his meaty fists hadn’t damaged the ancient wood.
She pounded her gavel. “In the name of Azura,order!”
Twenty-four hours until her coronation, and her court was still in chaos.
She glanced at Zane for support. He stood guard by the shining window at the end of the hall, but his face was a mask of anger, and that anger was directed at her. It had been all week. In the rare moments she was close to him, when she tried to ask what she’d done wrong, he made aggressive comments about war and marched away.
Given what Uncle Jerran’s background check on Zane had turned up, perhaps hiring him hadn’t been the best idea.
Kalie grimaced.
Beside Zane stood Mylis. Her afternoon teas with him had lifted her spirits more than once over the last several days, and his smiles helped alleviate her worst headaches. But his smoldering gaze bore into Hewlett.
Neither of them would be any help, and the shouting was only getting worse.
“The Duchissa called for order!”
She followed the familiar voice to a plump woman with sleek black hair, sitting in the fifth seat on her right. Julian’s mother, the Contessa of Rivershire.
As silence fell, Kalie gave her a grateful smile. Her cool stare cut as deep as Mother’s insults.
Once, the Contessa’s round, pretty face had held nothing but warmth and love.
“Thank you, Contessa.” Kalie silently cursed the tremor in her voice. “Now, as I was saying, public support for a rebellion is declining with each passing day. That’s why we need to act now, so we can gather more allies to overthrow?—”
“There will be no rebellion, Your Highness!”
“Your Majesty,” Kalie snapped. “Tomorrow morning, I will be your Duchissa. And I swear, I will do whateverit takes to avenge my aunt.”
“Your Majesty,” Hewlett said calmly, “we all sympathize with your loss. Your aunt was a remarkable woman, and a most distinguished leader.”
“But we’re not going to destroy our planet in a doomed war for vengeance!” Leighton thundered, earning a sharp look from Hewlett.
The flurry of heated voices climbed higher and higher, accompanied by the thudding of fists on wood and shouted curses.
Under the table, Kalie dug her nails into her palms. She wished, more than anything, that Lexie was alive. Then Uncle Jerran would be regent, Lexie would be the next duchissa, and she would be free of this court that hated her.
But whether she liked it or not, this was her court, and these were her people. She owed it to them to persevere.
Kalie raised her gavel.
A blur of motion appeared beside her. A grim look creased the aged attendant’s face, and her fingers tightened on the gavel.
“The Prime Minister has sent a transmission to the palace, Your Majesty.”
Kalie’s heart stopped, then kicked into overdrive.
“What—” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “What does—what did he say?”
The elderly man grimaced. “He insists on speaking directly to you.”
Heavy silence descended on the room. Thirty pairs of eyes piercedinto her. Kalie stared down at her lap. Her hands shook. She twined them together, but the tremors didn’t stop.
