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The thought surprises me. During my election campaign, the whims of the business magnate were a major concern. Now he seems so small, so petty, riling up young men and pretending to care about anything more than a percentage point in his quarterly filings.

All of this feels small. Stupid little political squabbles, while the very existence of Pentaris and the greater universe are at stake.

“What’s our exposure?”

Caius leans back in the sofa, reclining comfortably like a lord who has finished a banquet while the others are perched on wooden chairs they brought over, letting him have the entirety of the couch to sprawl. “There’s a legal issue that is being brought forward to the lower courts. They’ve deferred it to us. The Pentaris constitution states that there are no monarchs. The Sovereign Dawn, with Edmus’ cash, are loudly proclaiming that if you are married into the family of the crown prince, you will be stripped of your position of Prime Minister immediately.”

A spurt of rage, quickly calmed. I take a controlled breath in. “The constitution states that Pentaris will have no monarchy, not that there are no monarchs.”

Martin jumps to his feet. “Well that’s the thing. I’ve been poring over the old language, and it’s really exciting. Back when Pentaris was united, there were five different languages, whichleads to our constitution living and breathing as we do our best to understand the original intent. Now I’ve been searching the original documents, and…” He trails off. Martin was brought up as a constitutional expert, and he’s realizing no one else shares his enthusiasm for the ancient documents, especially not when he’s giving us bad news.

“Delay it. Delay it, or make it go away, or beat it in court. Do all three. Oh, don’t give me that look, Helena. You and I both know this is a smear campaign built off some reinterpretation of a word or two out of context. If the people don’t want me as Prime Minister, then I’ll retire. But not until this war is finished, and the threat to my planets is done. I’m not going to let Edmus weasel in some pro-business politician who cuts imports of med-bays because they hurt the profit of his hospitals.”

Helena raises a brow. “You’re starting to sound like a queen.”

“You were up late. And you’ve been working hard. So I won’t take offense. You and I both know that if Obsidian isn’t stopped, he’s going to work his way through the entire universe. Planet after planet, enslaved. So your job is not to find translations or to argue cases, it’s to make this go away until the war is over. Then I can be disgraced, I can resign in humiliation, I don’t care. My legacy will be that of Pentaris continued, not ripped apart by the war. Is that clear, everyone?”

Lineta stays silent for a long moment, exchanging glances with the other council. Then she nods.

“Clear, Prime Minister.”

“Good.”

I look past them, to the oval window, where Gallien is standing, his back to me, looking out over the city. I asked him to give me room, and he did so, the only way he could, going through the second office to the terraces that ring the building.

It’s clear my presence is unwelcome, but I take one last look at my legal team before I go. Lineta and Caius are realists. Theyknow the stakes. Martin… Martin will do whatever the legal text says. He just wants to work through old tomes, applying the technical legalities to the letter. He cares more about fine print than war, and I doubt he even fully understands the gravity of the situation. When this comes to a decision, it’s a coin flip which way he’ll land.

Helena…

She is in her twilight, and lawyers are as dangerous as politicians in the last breaths of their careers. Especially with her unblemished reputation as the preeminent legal mind of our generation, a woman on the boards of countless charities and foundations. She came from money, and she donates a portion of her fortune publicly each year, funding universities and research. You can’t walk through the halls of any reputable institution without seeing a library or hospital named after her.

She alone meets my gaze, cold and implacable, while the other lawyers make themselves busy with their work. I leave unsettled, walking towards the glass doors which slide open as they sense my presence.

The air seems to react to my presence, prickly and crackling, making the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise. The terrace that surrounds the building rings each level. Trees grow, their trunks rising through holes cut in each floor. They are constrained and neatly funneled upwards, so unlike Virelia where our architecture works around nature. Gallien leans out over the railing, looking out at the city, the wind whipping at his ivory robes.

His jaw is set, his features chiseled and hard. His short-cropped hair, platinum grey, makes him look as though he is perpetually wearing a crown. Marble fingers grip the railing, the blue-black ring obscene against his skin. Thunder booms out, lightning blinds me for an instant, and the heavy black cloudsunleash on the city before us, a stream of rain so thick it’s like a wall.

Gallien’s nostrils flare, ever so slightly, tasting my arrival as I stand next to him, staring out at the marble symmetry of the alien city before me.

From this height, we can look over the walls of the Arena of the Gods, the coliseum at the center of the capital city. Rain splatters against the invisible shield that encircles the arena, the sands dry and thirsting, pure white and begging for blood. I will be wed there, to this man and to his battle-brothers, wed on the sands that have drunk the lifeblood of thousands of Aurelians, duels fought over honor and women, duels that changed the fate of the universe itself.

“Is there trouble?” His voice cuts through the wind.

“Always. Nothing I can’t handle,” I say, pressing the button to silence my smart-watch as it buzzes urgently. A quick glance tells me Aeris of Etherion wants to talk.

She can wait.

“Why did they call you in?”

“Domestic matters. They’ve all spent their lives in Pentaris. Coming here, going through the Rift, it’s the first time they’ve really been threatened. Law used to be something impartial. They resent being brought into the… ugliness of reality.”

Gallien turns his head, looking down at me. His slate-grey eyes bore through my being. Those eyes seem out of place against his marble skin. They should be colored. They should burn with the link of the Bond, they should glow as Doman’s do. “No one is above this. Obsidian won’t let anyone escape with their hands clean. Those four have tasted death, and they understand the cost of their safety. They will do what is necessary. Trust me. I know people. I know how they change.”

As if his words were a signal, there is a flurry of activity in the drenched city. Streets fill, Aurelians in white robes stalking asReavers ascend. In the sprawling fields past the city limits, rows of Aurelians in battle-robes spar, fighting each other with the dull blades of their unactivated Orb-Weapons, the black lengths clanging against each other soundlessly, drowned out by the storm.

I glance up at Gallien, questioningly. He brings his smart-watch, blinking red, slowly in front of his eyes. His jaw clenches tighter.

“Mobilization. Total war. Obsidian’s fleet is on its way.”