No symbols, no power.
No power meant the Protectorate army could not be commanded.
After my Clan had turned its back on me, how could the crown ever accept me? I wouldn’t be able to face Dax’s look of pity and disappointment.
Or, perhaps, my own.
Because I still wanted that crown, despite everything.
My hand still drifted toward it, aching with desire, the shine of the metal mesmerizing. The power contained within it sang to me with promises of vengeance and glory.
I could show them, all of them, what leading a Clan truly meant. Power forged in fire, tempered through ice, reborn to make Malhaven quake.
A true heir to the throne wouldn’t think like that, though. Shame crashed through me. With great effort, I steeled my hand and let it drop gracelessly to my side.
I closed my eyes, shook the dreams of vengeful glory away, and plastered a shaky smile on my face that I knew did nothing to hide the battle within me.
“How did you even get here?” I asked.
For most, Solkar’s Reach was a myth, an impenetrable crater forged by falling stars and vengeful gods, with edges higher than the mountains surrounding Aquila.
The only entry point had been compromised and sealed off.
Dax was good at sneaking into impossible places, but even he wasn’t that good.
As I waited for his answer, I barely managed to rip my ravenous gaze from the crown. A pressure began to crawl up my spine as the polished steel glinted at the edges of my vision, calling my attention back to it.
Dax’s smile fell. Slowly, calculating.
He pulled his hand back and tucked the crown in his massive leather backpack. A part of me roared at its sudden absence, greedy palms twisting at my sides to grab it back.
Eyes still trained on me, Dax stepped back and ripped his dagger from the tree I’d sent careening into in my haste to protect the wounded troll.
Instead of tucking it back in whatever secret pocket he surely must have had in his coat, Dax pointed that weapon at me.
Its mean, silver glint sent a jolt of fear through me.
On pure instinct, I had my bow in my hand and an arrow cocked straight at my cousin’s face in the blink of an eye.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, even as my heart broke in two all over again.
Not Dax.
Not my cousin, who smiled easily for strangers, but hid his true self only for us to witness.
Not the man who’d begged me only days ago to tell him not to kill Silas for what he’d done to us.
“Who are you?” he said in the coldest voice I’d ever heard fall from his lips.
This wasn’t Daxon “Dax” Vegheara, the one who’d charmed all of Malhaven.
This was the man hiding behind the irresistible mask.
The Protectorate’s greatest and most secret weapon.
“I’m your cousin,” I spat out, heart pounding in my ears. “The one who nursed you back to health more times than I can count after yourescapades.”
“The real Allie would never think twice about accepting the Protectorate crown.” He barred his teeth. “What are you? A replica?”
