“How do you know?—”
His voice again in my mind:Not now.
I try not to let my thoughts race. If I’m to believe him, at least she’s alive and safe.
A few of the onlooker’s gasp with delight as Lucien twirls me, golden fabric cascading dramatically in the candlelight.
“How are your efforts progressing?” Lucien asks as he resumes our waltz. “To secure the votes you need?”
“Slowly. Some of the House leaders are more receptive than others.”
“Commander Kaelix, are they receptive?”
I glance toward where the Commander stands with their audience. “They see me as a symbol of everything they want to destroy…”
“Perhaps.” He draws me closer as the music softens. “But they also value authentic conviction over empty rhetoric. Show them that you understand their vision for the future, that you’re willing to fight for real change rather than maintaining the status quo.”
“How do I do that?”
“Ask them to dance.” His lips curve in a slight smile. “In front of everyone. It sends a message about your willingness to bridge divides.”
The suggestion is brilliant in its simplicity. “And if they refuse?”
“They won’t. Commander Kaelix may be a revolutionary, but they’re also politically savvy. They’ll understand the gesture’s value.”
The music builds around us. Conversations throughout the garden have stopped completely. People are openly staring now, not bothering to pretend otherwise. When he lifts me effortlessly during a particularly elaborate sequence, gasps echo across the garden.
He’s quiet for a long moment as the music swells. When he speaks, his voice carries tension, like someone fighting against invisible restraints.
“You are the one thing I didn’t plan for.” His hand tightens at my waist. “There are chains you can’t see, and I can’t break them yet.”
I hold his infinite gaze, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. “Lucien … what do you mean?”
The music fades into silence, leaving us standing in the centre with his hands still holding mine. The garden erupts into applause – genuine, awed applause.
“No matter what happens, Cyra, know this: I will follow you to the ends of the universe,” Lucien leans in and whispers.
I can’t speak, can’t breathe.
“Thank you for the dance.” He bows deeply. “And for giving me hope that perhaps not everything beautiful in this system has been lost.”
He releases my hands and steps back. As he melts into the crowd, the garden falls into an unnatural silence – not excited whispers, but something heavier.
Lord Evander stands frozen near the Saturn delegation, his face ashen behind his obsidian mask. When one of his advisors speaks to him, he doesn’t respond.
“We should have helped them,” someone whispers nearby.
Lord Castor’s usual swagger has evaporated. He’s gesturing desperately to his Jupiter entourage, his voice pitched low but intense. “Tactical decision … limited resources … we couldn’t save everyone...”
Even Lady Tavia looks shaken, speaking rapidly to her communication specialists, her usual diplomatic demeanor cracked.
“What aren’t they telling me?” I whisper to Ren as I return to her side. “They’re all acting like?—”
“Like they’ve seen a ghost,” Ren finishes grimly. “The kind that comes back to remind you of things you’d rather forget.”
Suddenly, I find myself being pulled aside by Zevran. His face is tight with controlled emotion behind his bronze mask.
“We need to talk,” he says. “Now.”
