“It matters to me. I want her here.Safe.She is none of those things to me, she’s my sister.”
The fierceness in Geneva’s eyes did not wane, though her expression softened in a way she only seemed to show him. She reached up and smoothed a lock of hair off his forehead and behind his ear. It wouldn’t stay and she knew that—it never stayed. Yet she’d been sweeping it away since he was a boy anyway.
“What she is to those outside this room is not your decision to make, Ferdi—it is hers, as it was mine long ago.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “I was all of those things once—pawn, shield, threat—and I survived it, barely older than Amarande is now. The stars shall tell if she will, too.”
Twenty Years Prior to Present Day
ONthe first day of spring the year she turned fourteen, Geneva was summoned to her grandfather’s private wing within the onyx stronghold he called the Aragonesti. In a family that sprawled like the roots of the largest banyan tree, putting out shoots as far as the eye could see, a summons from King Domingu was a very special honor indeed.
And Geneva intended to make an impression.
For the occasion, Geneva had gone to great lengths to pick out just the right gown. After careful consideration, she approached the king’s chambers in a rich chocolate satin adorned with accents of gold—showcasing the colors of Basilica. Brown did not flatter everyone, but Geneva knew it complemented her coveted Basilican coloring—lustrous dark hair contrasted with sky-blue eyes.
At the appointed time, she arrived at the king’s private chambers, which were marked by a set of doors carved with a massive depiction of a roaring bear’s head and encrusted with an entire mine’s worth of jewels—diamonds, sapphires, garnets, emeralds, pearls.
The castle guards stationed outside allowed her to enter without so much as a question—another thrill. They knew who she was. Why she was here.
Geneva couldn’t help it—a smile of satisfaction slid across her practiced, polished exterior.
Beyond the door was a voluminous sitting room and study—all glittering oynx stone with Basilican steel accents. Everything about it sharp and deadly and perfectly Domingu.
“My king?” she called, as that was the title he preferred, even from relatives.
“Out here, Geneva, my girl,” Domingu answered from the wide balcony adjoining the study.
My girl.
Geneva beamed, chin held high as she stepped into the sunlight.She blinked, the white brilliance of noon devouring her senses as she pointed herself toward his form—seated in the shade of a canopy.
Shoulders back and chin high, Geneva rushed earnestly forward… only to realize that her grandfather was not alone.
A girl about her age, one with golden braids the color of butter, dressed in the palest shade of lavender, regarded her with eyes of searing, icy blue. She stood demurely in front of the king, hands clasped politely. Geneva had never seen her before.
“Inés, darling, this is Geneva.” As he smiled, deep wrinkles fanned across the king’s bronze face. He was near sixty, yet still handsome—his eyes twinkled in a way only certain power could convey, his features as regal and dashing as any storybook hero’s. “You two are cousins of a distant sort. Two strands on either end of the web, as they say.”
Geneva curtseyed, and Inés nodded, politely. The king gestured Geneva forward to stand next to this girl, Inés. Geneva reluctantly approached, not wanting to share the spotlight she so coveted with this girl, but also having no choice.
When she was settled, their grandfather smiled and clasped his hands together—always ready to get down to business.
“I’ve called you here because I have a very important assignment for both of you.” Domingu leveled his penetrating blue gaze on the girls—the confidence in it could make an entire army snap to attention and Geneva tipped her chin higher, attempting to mirror it.
“It will take time as well as certain training, planning, and luck,but—if this should go correctly, when your assignments are completed, you and two other very loyal, very clever girls will each have castles of your own, run by you for me.” The king paused, reading their faces. And, apparently liking what he saw, he continued. “You will never want for anything, and your sacrifices will be a boon to the kingdoms of the Sand and Sky. One continent under one house—Basilica as the sun, the rest as orbiting stars.”
Geneva’s blood sparked with opportunity—she would be the most loyal, clever, successful. The brightest of the stars.
“And then we will rule, my king?” this cousin asked, bright eyed and hopeful.
Was she even listening? A question like that might easily lead to a fall from favor. Still, their grandfather demonstrated the benevolence he reserved for family—the girl was fortunate for that.
“In a sense, yes, but atthe king’sdirection.” He smiled in a way that was a closed door, not an open one. “This is a patriarchy, my girls. And though I am the most powerful man in the world, I cannot change that.”
If Domingu couldn’t change it, who could? And why not?Geneva didn’t dare ask—questions like these would not be loyal or clever.
“But what Icando is make you the most powerful women in the world. All you have to do is what I say.” His eyes glittered as he looked between them. “Now, shall we begin?”
CHAPTER23
THEbodies remained imprinted on the backs of Amarande’s eyelids as she and Taillefer left the horror of the Cardenas Scar behind and pointed themselves toward the Warlord’s Inn. Hours later, they were nearly within sight of it—its rambling silhouette should appear at the horizon in the shimmering heat of the day any minute.
