When I finally withdraw my hand, I feel the absence of his warmth. I reach for my wine glass, trying to appear composed.
Lady Isolde’s eyes flick toward us, and my stomach drops. Her expression doesn’t change, and just as quickly, she’s turning back to her conversation.
Zevran’s knee brushes against mine under the table. When I glance at him, he’s looking straight ahead, the faintest smile on his lips.
Just then, a server approaches Lord Castor with a wine pitcher and accidentally bumps his shoulder.
“Carefulthere, sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice carrying. “In Jupiter’s military, we don’t tolerate mistakes. Ever seen what happens to soldiers who can’t follow simple protocols? Let’s just say the outer moons have plenty of openings.”
The server hurries away.
Commander Kaelix slams their glass down. “Your military is ajoke, Castor. All that posturing, but put you up against real tactical innovation and you’d crumble.”
Lord Castor’s eyes narrow. “Big words from someone whose entire strategy is ‘blow everything up and see what happens?—’”
“Your Graces,” Lady Isolde interjects smoothly, “perhaps we save the hostilities for the arena tomorrow?”
Lady Nerida speaks for the first time, her voice soft but filling the space. “The stars weep for what we are about to unleash. I see fire in the darkness, shadows that devour light, and a choice that will shatter worlds.”
I notice some of the House leaders pull a face or glance at each other in amusement, some better at hiding it than others.
The second course arrives. I move food around my plate, unable to focus. The sigil has stopped tingling, but the relief from healing Zevran is already fading at the edges.
Servants continue to bring course after course, accompanied by wines that taste of starlight and desserts that change flavour with each bite. I’ve never seen so much decadence.
I think of the boy in the alley … near death, starving … willing to do anything…
Yet here we sit, with every luxury in the galaxy. No one in this room has any idea what it’s really like out there, how their decisions in these rooms can have such devastating consequences.
I just hope whoever wins the throne might understand that.
As the final plates are cleared and the Houses begin to disperse, I feel a familiar sensation. A prickling across my spine, like eyes I can’t see watching from the shadows. I glance around the hall, but every face is accounted for, every guest visible.
Lady Nerida catches my arm as I pass her side of the table.
“Be careful, daughter of moon and sun,” she whispers. “The one who watches from shadow may mean you harm, while others here would see you burn before they let you rise.”
Before I can ask what she means, she’s already out the door.
Zevran appears at my elbow. “Ready to retreat?”
I nod wordlessly.
We walk back through the crystal corridors in silence. The music fades behind us, replaced by the soft hum of the arena itself.
When we reach the doors to our chambers, Zevran stops.
“You have her touch, you know,” he says quietly, turning to face me. “Your mother’s.”
My heart skips.
“It’s not just the healing … it’s also what comes after. The quiet.” His voice drops. “The nightmares began after my parents were killed by the Sun King. Liora was the only one who could make them bearable.”
The words don’t fully land at first. Then they do, all at once, and I have to grip the doorframe.
My father killed his parents.
“When Liora disappeared, I couldn’t lose you too. So I kept you close.” He meets my eyes again. “It was … selfish.”
