She spent my entire life trying to make sure I didn’t become like my father – did everything in her power to prevent me from following his path. And despite all of it, I still ended up in that stone chambertorturing Isolde with sun magic, enjoying every second of her suffering.
Bile rises to my throat, my stomach churning. Mother, who has always been kind, gentle, selfless … how can this woman standing in front of me be the same woman that did all of these horrible things? I can’t think, can’t speak, can’t breathe…
So I just stand there, hands shaking, while she looks at me with such desperate pride.
Beyond the doors, I hear Cardinal Benedict’s voice calling for attention. The ceremony is about to begin.
“You can be better than what I made him,” Mother whispers, reaching up to adjust my moon pendant with shaking hands. “You already are.”
The doors begin to open, golden light spilling into the holding chamber.
“Your Majesty,” a Cardinal calls. “The solar system awaits.”
Mother releases me, stepping back. There’s such hope in her eyes, such desperate belief that she’s succeeded in creating something good.
And I have to walk through those doors carrying the secret that I’m exactly what she feared. That despite all her careful planning and manipulation and sacrifice, I’m my father’s daughter in the worst possible way.
I gather my train and what remains of my composure. The doors swing fully open, revealing the ceremonial hall beyond.
The ceremonial hall rises before me, vast and breathtaking.
Ancient stone arches soar overhead, carved with symbols that seem to pulse with inner light – constellations and planetary orbits worked in three dimensions into the very architecture. Massive windows of crystalline glass filter light from distant suns into prismatic rainbows that dance across the walls. The space is large enough to hold thousands, and today it does, every seat filled with the most powerful people in the solar system, all gathered to witness this moment.
The aisle stretches ahead of me, impossibly long, lined with wooden pews where nobles, Generals, aides, scholars, and more sit alongside House leaders in their formal regalia. Ceremonial banners hang from the ceiling, each bearing a different House symbol. I begin my slow procession, my delicate train flowing behind me like a river of liquid gold.
The rustle of thousands of people shifting to watch fills the air. I catch glimpses of familiar faces as I pass, each one a reminder of what brought me here.
Lord Castor sits in Jupiter’s section, his expression radiating fierce pride. Lady Tavia and her Mercury diplomats watch with composure, but I see the warmth in her eyes. Commander Kaelix sits with studied casualness, their electric blue eyes tracking my progress with guarded approval. Lady Nerida smiles mysteriously, and I wonder what her visions show her about this day.
Then I see the empty spaces.
Two seats near the front, unoccupied.
Lord Evander’s dark purple Saturn cushion, untouched. I can picture him there so clearly – nodding approvingly, revelling in the history and tradition on display, already thinking about the legal frameworks we’d need to establish.
Isolde’s amber Venus cushion, where I can so clearly envision her sitting regally in her flowing silks.
Tears sting my eyes. One dead. One gone.
I tear my gaze away … and see Zevran.
He sits in the front row among the Mars delegation, dressed in formal reds and bronzes that make him look like living fire. Our eyes meet as I pass, and the connection sparks between us – everything we’ve shared, everything that’s grown between us despite the addiction and the politics and the impossible circumstances. His grey eyes are intense, protective, filled with emotion that makes my chest tight.
Near the altar, Ren stands at attention with other security personnel, her uniform crisp despite the injuries she’s still healing from. When our eyes meet, she gives me the faintest smile of encouragement. It’s subtle enough that no one else would notice, but I see it. I feel it.
In the first row of the gallery, Astrid sits with tears streaming down her face. Her hands are clasped in her lap, knuckles white, as she watches me walk toward a destiny we both know will change everything. She’s been by my side through all of it – my sister in every way that matters.
Mother takes her seat in the front row, still crying, still looking at me with that desperate pride.
But it’s the figure standing in the shadows near a supporting pillar that draws my attention most.
Lucien.
Shadows cloak him, making him nearly invisible to everyone else. But I can see him. His white mask catches the prismatic light, and his dark eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. When our eyes meet, he nods once. A gesture of respect, of support, of the deep connection that’s grown between us.
Seeing him there, knowing he’ll be part of whatever comes next, fills me with a calm I wasn’t expecting. The addiction is quiet. Myhands are steady. The hunger that’s lived beneath my skin for months is simply ... gone.
I reach the foot of the Solar Throne.
