Belong. The word was a syncopation against the rhythm of my heartbeat. I’d hungered to belong somewhere for as long as I could remember—the very idea of finding my place in this world had become armor against uncertainty, perfume to mask the stench of loneliness. But after all this time yearning to hear those words—this is where you belong—I was starting to wonder whether I had earned them. Or if they were even true.
“What’s wrong?” Sunder drew back.
“Marta Iole is just one person.” Bitterness burst in my throat. “Those Ambers, in the marché. They looked at me like I was an imposter. And those Red Masks—they doubt my legitimacy so deeply they’d risk their lives to kill me. How do I prove tothem—my people—I’m their rightful empress?”
“Give them time.” His thumb brushed my jaw. “Let them see you shine, and they will know you are their Sun Heir.”
“How?” I bit my lip. “How do I prove to them I’m more than a fantasy in fine silks and tiaras? I was raised in dusky rags—now I wear Severine’s sunlit gowns. I was never loved—how am I supposed to earn the love of an entire city, an entire empire?”
“You do yourself too little credit, demoiselle.”
His gaze burned like sunlight through leaf-bare trees. He tilted my chin, his thumb brushing against my lower lip. I leaned into his touch, ignoring the frisson of energy gliding along my jaw. His other arm slipped around my waist and slid my hips against his, molding us together. His lips parted, hovering over mine, and I savored his hope and drank his desire. I hesitated in the bittersweet wasteland between fear and want. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Sunder caught sight of something over my shoulder, and abruptly let me go. Cold air drafted between us, slowing my pulse and shriveling my heart. I spun, looking through arching windows toward the palais gates, where a parade marched up the Concordat—
It wasn’t a parade. It was … a royal procession?
I unclenched my fingernails from my palm, crossed to the glass doors, and stepped out onto the wrought-iron balcony beyond. The music of marching wafted up—shod hooves ringing out on cobblestones, the champagne timpani of laughter and trumpets and song. The cortège was nearly the length of the Concordat: a river of riders in uniform—bright red and pale kembric, metal helms and dancing horses. Children ran beside the retinue, and my breath caught in my throat when I saw the soldats tossing coins to the onlookers. The procession was heading straight for Coeur d’Or’s gilded gates, flowing up the shallow steps like a sunlit river.
They finally came close enough for me to make out faces, and that’s when I sawhim.
He rode tall and straight at the head of the procession on a prancing chestnut stallion. Even from here I could tell he was handsome—a bright smile laughed in a golden-tan face. Unlike the rest of the riders—who wore pale surcoats splashed in red—he was clad in kembric armor forged so that the sun hammered sparks off it. His dark mahogany hair seemed to glow, as though woven through with threads of ambric.
He shone so bright it was hard to look at him straight on. He looked like—
He looked like the Sun Heir.
“He’s already here,” I breathed.
A wave of sickly heat wafted off Sunder, slapping the back of my neck with the stench of bloody snow and icy metal.
“Here to steal your throne,” Sunder growled.
“Wait.” I spun from the cortège and faced Sunder. “YouknowGavin d’Ars?”
“Unfortunately. He was at court a few tides ago.” His eyes sharpened on my face. “Shall I kill him for you, dauphine?”
The venom in Sunder’s tone took me aback.
“You hate him,” I realized. “Why?”
His eyes fell away somewhere I couldn’t follow. Disgust twisted his plush mouth.
“I can’t say,” he said finally.
“I’ve never known you to hold a grudge without good reason, my lord Sunder,” I said, sharp. “If there is something I ought to know about my cousin, I command you to tell me.”
“It’s not my story to tell.”
“Then whose is it?”
Sunder hesitated, then smiled like ice crystallizing on the edge of a sword. “My sister’s. You will have to ask Oleander if you wish to know more.”
My stomach gave a nervous lurch. I turned back to watch my cousin, marching up the Concordat with sunlight sparking off his kembric armor.
Scion, I didn’t know this man at all, but he looked so much like arealSun Heir it made my chest ache. Already I could see how they loved him—running beside him, reaching for his stirrup, clasping at his hands. Their cheers rang in my ears.
Another sick surge of relief churned against resentment in my stomach.
