She pushed herself onto her elbows from her bedroll. Luca wasn’t asleep or under the blanket. Instead, he sat cross-legged beside her. The hand not nestled in hers was wrapped around a steaming mug. Which he offered her with a sweet smile.
“Good morning, Ama.”
As she accepted the coffee and his greeting, she was struck by the crushing realization that her whole body ached, but not nearly as much as her heart.
Koldo.
This was her first morning on this earth without her. The woman who’d always given everything for her. For Ardenia. For her father. Who was everything Amarande always wanted to be. Even after the revelation of Ferdinand. Even after the misguided attempts to correct what had gone wrong, Koldo always came through with the right choice. The selfless choice. All the way until the end.
In some ways Amarande wished to grieve exactly as she had when her father died. Retreat. Sob. Work memories over in her mind until they were blurry-eyed visions as much as the truth.
Yet as much as Amarande wanted to dwell upon her sadness and discontent, she couldn’t.
The threats were too great.
From Geneva and others who would take advantage of the Sand and Sky’s tumultuous changes since the summer solstice—Eritri, Indu, even pirates searching for something more valuable to take than a cargo load. Why take the ship when the kingdom itself was ripe for picking? Anything could happen with the continent unsettled.
And then there was Tala. If Luca’s decision was to allow Tala toattend the conclave, so be it. She’d fight the battle about that man later. And she wouldn’t mention last night’s fight now either.
This morning, she wanted to focus on laying out the best future she could for the people of Ardenia, Torrence, and the Sand and Sky as a whole.
Amarande took a sip of coffee, discarded her cup, and swept a warm hand to Luca’s chin. His golden eyes were soft around the edges with too little sleep and the stress of the past day. She pressed a palm to his cheek and a kiss to his lips.
“Good morning, my love. Let’s go change the world.”
Truly, that was a slight exaggeration. It wasn’t the world, buttheirworld, the Sand and Sky. Still, everything had changed the moment Luca claimed Torrence and Amarande the Ardenian crown. Today would formalize those steps, and move the continent in a new, and hopefully permanent, direction.
The conclave was set to begin as scheduled, in the private confines of a large pavilion tent, white in its neutrality, the central spire and all accents overlaid in gold. This was tradition. As was the seating arrangement—each leadership party poised upon their appointed spots in accordance with their kingdom’s physical location within the union.
One could draw a five-pointed star between the kingdoms, with Pyrenee at the top. To the right, Ardenia was next, with Basilica as its neighbor. Myrcell was located beside Basilica, and, for the first time in seventeen years, Torrence was situated between Myrcell and Pyrenee.
Mountain Lion. Tiger. Bear. Shark. Black Wolf. The continent separated into one deadly sigil after another.
Only Pyrenee had not yet arrived.
Given the general disgust of the surviving council, Amarande put the actual attendance of the Mountain Lion’s party at the flip of a gold piece.
Luca and Amarande settled directly across from each other. Three advisors were allowed along with each kingdom’s rulers, in an effort to keep the meeting discussion nimble. Amarande had Ferdinand and Joseba, electing to leave Koldo’s cushion bare. Next to her, Ferdinand was as stoic as stone—if sorrow draped Amarande like a shroud, herbrother wore his like armor. If Joseba mourned Koldo he didn’t show it, and instead was wholly focused only on the task at hand and his role in it. That was what he was good at, after all.
Meanwhile, Luca… was alone. Apparently heeding her concerns about Tala’s presence, but also excluding Tala’s seconds from the resistance as well. And given Ula and Urtzi were off on assignment, they were not able to attend.
Amarande leaned forward, ready to offer Captain Xixi or even Ferdinand as support to Luca’s side, but he was already holding up a palm. “I have you. Not at my back but with me. Don’t worry.”
Before Amarande could answer, the party from Basilica entered, and the familiarity of the face of their king knocked the wind straight from the queen’s chest.
Sky-light eyes, dark hair—Domingu’s line clear—but it was the angle of his jaw, the finely cut features on his face, that were what caught her eye.
Then, in a single blink, the answer came.
A stiffly moving but finely dressed Osana appeared over the king’s shoulder, gingerly tugging at the cushion behind him. Ferdinand hopped up to help her get settled—and it was obvious now that he knew much more about the state of Basilica than he’d told Amarande. Koldo had been their only topic of discussion since the battle. And when Ferdinand walked away without a word, Osana’s face was a mirror to the man’s as much as a match. Her expression settled upon Amarande. “Apparently, my father is the new king of Basilica.”
Said king cradled Osana’s chin in his hand. “My daughter is in disbelief. She isn’t interested in returning to castle life.” Then he turned to Amarande. “Perhaps she gets that bit from my sister.”
Zavier.
Geneva’s older brother. Osana’s father. Amarande wasn’t sure she’d ever met the man, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know him now.
She caught Luca’s eye as the specter of Geneva swept into the room, summoned forth by her uncle’s lips. Ferdinand slumped to a seat beside Amarande without a word. As he did, the Myrcellian ruler raised both hands in the air. “Are we to begin before Pyrenee’s arrival?”
