One month later …
JENNA SLUNG A cloak over her shoulders before venturing outdoors. Staturine II didn’t have Idral’s climate. Most days were cool and cloudy, with an icy wind gusting in from the north.
It was taking some getting used to. Her clan had originally hailed from this planet, yet she could see why her grandfather preferred Idral. Staturine II was rich in minerals, its mountainous surface pock-marked with mines, but it was cold and damp. She missed Idral’s hot, dry air, laced with the tang of iron, and the sight of the sister moons every night.
Stepping out onto the balcony, a wall of noise met Jenna—cheering and applause from the vast crowd gathered on the wide square beneath her. The citizens of Briscay, Staturine II’s capital city, had gathered here to witness Jenna Mir-Brennan take the clan seat. She now stood upon the public balcony of Castle Valnor. Before her, Briscay’s skyline bristled with delicate dove-grey spires set against the backdrop of purple, snow-capped mountains.
Jenna had just come from the great hall, from a ceremony where she’d taken the clan ring.
Cathal’s ring, a signet upon his right hand, had gone with him to his death, and so she’d had another made.
Jenna raised her right hand to greet her people. The gleaming gold signet, with her clan’s emblem upon it, glinted in the pale sun.
The cheering grew louder, and the air trembled from the force of it.
Jenna couldn’t help but smile at their greeting. It was a warmer one than she’d expected. She was the first clan-lady in six generations, yet her clan welcomed her.
Glancing right, at where Isla and Bea stood, Jenna caught her sister-in-law’s eye.
Unlike Bea, who’d rallied in the way only children could after her father’s death, Isla was thin and drawn these days, yet she managed a small smile. Dressed in flowing black, for she would be in mourning for a full year, Isla’s skin was so pale it almost appeared translucent, and there were dark smudges under her eyes.
Jenna had been worried about her of late, yet Isla just needed time.
They all did. Cathal’s death had sent shockwaves through the clan. There had been public scenes of grieving upon the streets of Briscay.
They needed a new leader—someone to give their people guidance and strength. Jenna had wanted to leave her swearing-in for at least three months, but a week earlier, Isla had come to her and suggested she move it forward.
“We can’t wait,” Isla had insisted, her blue eyes glinting. “Our enemy certainly isn’t.”
Like them, the Mir-Ferrins had lost their leader. The clan was rallying its strength, and Elijah, the eldest of Mican Mir-Ferrins's surviving sons, had recently been sworn in upon Platinum 5.
There were whispers of revenge, although those rumors just filled Jenna with resolve.
If there was vengeance to be had, she would be taking it.
Even before her swearing-in, she’d been to numerous meetings with the Mir-Brennan space fleet commanders. They were recruiting new soldiers, building new ships, and making new weapons.
The Mir-Brennan clan would rise from the ashes, even stronger than before; she’d see to it.
Gaze sweeping over the crowd of bobbing heads, Jenna spied a familiar face near the front: a well-built man with brown hair and a black metal plate over his right eye socket.
Stepping close to the balustrade, Jenna met Vic’s eye and grinned.
An instant later, he raised a hand to acknowledge her, his mouth twitching.
Warmth suffused Jenna’s chest. It was good to see the cyborg was still in residence here inBriscay, although she imagined he’d soon be moving on. Repairs on his freighter would almost be completed by now.
Vic was restless, a loner. She’d approached him a couple of weeks earlier, asking him to lead the Lady’s Watch. However, he’d politely refused, and she hadn’t been that surprised.
Vic had given his life to serving a clan-lord and had paid for it with his humanity. His transitioning had played a cruel trick upon Vic, for he was far too aware of what they’d taken from him.
All he had now was his free will, his ship, and a droid who’d follow him anywhere. Jenna understood his restlessness.
The crowd’s cheering increased once more, waves of noise rolling over the wide square and reverberating off Castle Valnor’s granite walls. Jenna glanced over her shoulder to see Malik emerge onto the balcony.
Like her, he wore a heavy black cloak about his shoulders, although, unlike Jenna, who wore a high-necked gown of shimmering gold, he was dressed in black and grey. They’d have to wait until the year of mourning for her brother passed before they could marry; as such, he didn’t yet wear gold. Only members of the ruling family wore that color, but once they wed, Malik would.
As always, Jenna’s breathing caught at the sight of him.
