Hannover kept going on, with that self-righteous stance, and he finally saw her. Not the strong-willed survivor, but the selfish, spoiled princess underneath.
“I left,” he spat, “because they’re alldead.”
Her mouth snapped shut.
“I watched every single one of them die, and I was sick of fighting a losing battle.” Zane tore off his uniform jacket and tossed it on the shining marble floor. Her eyes widened, but it was too little, too late. “I thought you understood. That you were different. But you know what? Screw you. I’m done.”
“Zane, wait?—”
“When she destroys you,” Zane said, turning to Mylis, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He stomped on his Guardsman’s jacket as he marched out, ignoring the protests drifting after him.
Dali, Sector 4
Decemmensis-29, 817 cycles A.F.C.
With the warmthof morning on her face, Kalie sucked in a cool breath. A gentle breeze swept through the open iron doors, ruffling her long braid and the skirt of her simple white gown. Even this early, with the sun’s amber rays peeking over the towering Mountains of Calla, the heavy ermine cloak pinned at her neck was sweltering.
Kalie paced to the window.
She’d never been up here before. This sacred wing of the palace was built into one of the mountains surrounding it. The stone platform outside overlooked the valley and the gurgling lake below. Bushy cavanna trees lined the stone ledge, leading out to the Bridge of Destiny.
“You look radiant, Kalie,” Mylis murmured.
Her cheeks warmed. Yesterday had been a split-second impulse, one she wouldn’t be revisiting anytime soon, but someday, once things had calmed…
When he smiled like that, it was hard to resist.
“You look pretty nice yourself.”
He frowned at her cloak. “Crimson threads. You’re signaling revenge.”
The weight of the heavy sapphire cloak pressed down on her. At each coronation, the cloak’s colored embroidery told the coded story of the duchissa’s hopes for her new reign. Grandmother Madeleine’s had been gold, gloating. Aunt Calida’s had been white, signaling purity and rebirth, the dawn of a new era.
Despite Uncle Jerran’s resistance, Kalie had chosen crimson thread.
“You think it’s a mistake?”
“I think it’s your choice.” Mylis smiled. “In less than an hour, you’ll officially be our Duchissa.”
The title no longer caused her pain. This was her duty now. Once the crown’s weight settled on her head, she would commit herself to this planet for the rest of her life. It was the destiny Azura desired for her, and she wouldn’t run from it any longer. She’d just have to win the people over, as Aunt Calida had twenty cycles ago. She’d show them she wasn’t justthe Butcher’s daughter, but the niece of a woman who’d died fighting for freedom, a leader who would avenge their losses and lead them to prosperity.
“Okay, let’s move!” Vale swept into the crowded stone chamber. “We were supposed to be walking two minutes ago!”
It took another five minutes to get everyone organized. Six priestesses, all clad in ceremonial robes, formed the bulk of the procession leading her out to the platform. A small army of guards surrounded them, including Mylis, at her left, and Vale, at the front.
Kalie’s shoulders drooped as she looked to her right, where Zane would’ve stood.“Because they’re all dead—dead—dead,”echoed his pained voice. He was a deserter, yes, but not at all a coward. To watch each of his friends die, again and again… She couldn’t begin to comprehend that. Mira had said he was a walking disaster when they met. That had to be why.
Perhaps Not-Mira, his mysterious friend, was among the dead who haunted him.
Kalie trailed her hand across a crimson thread snaking throughher cloak. It ended in a broken stitch. She pinched the thread and tugged.
As the thread snapped and floated to the ground, a low melody played through the speakers.
“That’s our cue, my lady,” said a priestess. “May Azura bless you.”
Kalie inhaled sharply. The blessing would forever be haunted by Ariah’s last words, but it no longer brought tears to her eyes. Ariah would’ve wanted her to be strong.
