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Positioned a few feet ahead of him, on the parquet floor, was his solid oak desk. He slid onto the plush chair, plucked his quill between his fingers, then dipped it into the inkpot.

With his left hand, he held the parchment steady as he wrote.

Father,

I’m writing to share extraordinary news—astral magic has been found in a girl by the name of Adelina Orlova. We meet with the benefactors later today, and her training commences tomorrow.

If all goes to plan, their support will be indefinite, and their loyalties unwavering. I make a promise to you, my dearest father. I will unite the countries into one Republic, where I will rule as emperor for as long as I shall live.

May you continue to fund my mission, if it pleases you.

Your obedient son,

Filip Tarasov.

He folded the parchment, then slipped it into an envelope, sealing it with red wax .

Creating a steeple with his fingers, and resting his elbows on the desk, he leaned forwards. He’d simply told Adelina his role was interim—a President, not an Emperor.

If he could turn her into the strongest sorcerer after training with Yelena, well…

she would be indispensable. Her access to astral—sun magic—would prove invaluable in any wars to come, should there be any.

To secure his position as Emperor, under the pretence and promise of uniting the countries into a democratic government, he’d fall into battle with Temauten and Saintlandsther.

He’d claim them through war and force, but these were troubles for another day.

A servant came to take away his letter, so he turned his attention to a thick, leather-bound book positioned on the right side of his desk. He flicked through the parchment and landed on a page inscribed Sorcerer Training.

Tracing his fingers across the words written by Yelena, he absorbed the information—the exact teachings Adelina would learn. Nodding to himself in approval, he closed the book and left the room.

With his hand gliding along the banister, he ascended the grand stairs, then walked past the corridor leading to Salma and Adelina’s bedrooms. He took the next corridor, strolling until he reached his own chamber at the back of the palace.

The only other thing he needed to do was find himself a wife, someone worthy of siring his children. If he was to maintain his position as Emperor of the Republic, he’d need an heir.

“Who better to entrust my kingdom with?” he said to himself as he sank on to his down-stuffed mattress .

He rubbed his hands together slowly, and a slight grin curved his lips.

∞∞∞

Adelina, with Salma beside her, strolled along the cobbled streets of the bustling Toichrist town. Civilians filed in and out of seamstresses, markets, and shoemakers. A hearty scent from the local tavern wafted on the slight breeze.

They neared a stove maker store, and Adelina bit her lip—her heart swelled with longing to see her family.

Salma placed her hand on Adelina’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear. You can write to them later.”

Adelina swivelled around and smiled. “I know. How will I survive months away from them? It hasn’t even been three weeks yet.”

“You’ll be fine,” Salma said. “I’m sure Filip will allow visitations. Besides, you know why you’re here. Think of everything you’re going to achieve.”

“You’re right.” Adelina headed for Francov’s Clocks .

She grasped the handle, then swung the door inwards, subsequently ringing a small bell hanging above.

The interior was filled with an assortment of clocks—wall fixtures, grandfathers, pocket watches, tabletop clocks, and, towards the back of the room, a workshop. Broken clock faces and hands lined the wooden workbenches. Polishing cloths were dotted about, beside pliers, and spare pendulum swings .

An old man, with tied back hair, hunched over his current project, hummed to himself as he tended to the mechanism with care.

“Good morning, Sir,” Adelina said as she neared the man. “Are you Francov?”

He whirled around—a gentle smile upon his face. “Ah, good day to you, miss! Francov is indeed my name. How can I help you?”

She withdrew the pocket watch from within her satchel, then handed it to the clockmaker. “Do you think you can fix it?”

“What a rare piece of gold you have here.” He lowered his spectacles and inspected the timepiece. “Where did you find this?”

“It belonged to my grandfather, but it doesn’t appear to be working.” She closed her satchel and waited for the man to make his verdict.

“An heirloom piece, you say?” He raised a brow in fascination as he smoothed the gold surface with his thumb. “I’ll have a look.”

He beckoned Adelina and Salma around the front desk, and towards his workbench at the back.

“What do we have here?” He frowned as he popped open the watch and peered at the small gear train. With flat pliers, he removed the inner pieces. After a moment of closer study, the crease eased between his brows. “The mainspring is broken.”

Adelina glanced at Salma, who shrugged. Neither of them were familiar with the intricacies of clock repairs and services.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, he said, “Fear not, miss, it can be replaced. ”

As the man got to work, dozens of clocks chimed, varying in tones. Adelina jumped—her gaze darting from one set of hands to another.

“Noon!” he chirped as he pieced together the heirloom, then guided them back to the front desk. “Are you new around here, miss? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Adelina cast an uncertain look at Salma. Word travelled fast of the girl with astral magic, but not many people yet knew what she looked like, aside from the benefactors she’d met the previous night.

“I am.” Once she’d checked the watch to see the little hands moving, she handed the man a dozen ruble from the pouch Natasha had given her. “Is this sufficient?”

“Indeed.” He took the coins—an airy smile upon his face. “I bid good day to you, miss.”

Together, Adelina and Salma left the shop and headed for the tavern. She wanted a cooked meal without the fuss of servants around her. A tavern would remind her of home.

“You should make the most of your anonymity while you can.” Salma nudged her as they strolled along the winding path towards the tavern door.

“I thought the same.” Adelina bit her lip. “It won’t be long before everyone recognises me. I doubt I’ll be able to enjoy simplicities such as these.”

“Come,” Salma said in a light tone as she heaved in the wooden door, and the scent of stewed beef and potatoes greeted them.

∞∞ ∞

A carriage beat along the path, taking Filip, Adelina, and Salma to the public announcement. Where that was exactly, remained a mystery.

She kept her hands clasped in her lap, ignoring her trembling fingers. She couldn’t help the nerves racking inside her.

When the carriage came to a halt, the coachman placed a stool in front of it, then opened the door. He held out his hand.

Adelina flattened her skirt with her sweating palms, rested her hand on the coachman’s, then lowered herself onto the steps with as much grace as she could muster. Salma and Filip followed behind her.

“Welcome to the Embassy.” He gestured to the large, white marble building in front of them—its roof was domed and the colour of weathered copper. “You’ll meet all the important benefactors, including the chosen leader of the Temauten Congregation and the Saintlandsther Council.”

Her mouth dried and an empty sensation festered in the pit of her stomach.

“You’ve gone pale, my dear.” Filip took her by the arm. “There’s no need to worry. The people will be excited to make your acquaintance.”

She gave a small nod and clutched his arm tighter than she’d wanted to. Although she knew frighteningly little about this man, she trusted him. There was no other choice .

“Perhaps we should get her some water.” Salma’s eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“I’ll be fine.” Despite her words, her chest tingled. She breathed in deeply, then followed the path towards the grand double doors.

Filip patted her hand as it rested in the crook of his arm.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Tarasov,” the man posted outside said. “This must be Ms. Orlova?”

“She certainly is.” Filip beamed.

“A pleasure.” The man bowed, then opened the door.

Inside, two wooden staircases curved around both walls, meeting at a landing overlooking the entrance. In the centre of the foyer was a wooden table, and positioned on top, a large blue vase filled with fresh pansies.

“The men are gathered in the room ahead.” Filip gestured in front of them. “Salma, there will be a seat for you on the balcony. Follow the stairs and the servant will show you from there.”

“Of course,” she said, then squeezed Adelina’s free hand. “You’ll do perfectly.”

“Thank you.” Adelina was grateful for her chaperone’s kind words—they eased the knots in her stomach.

“Come.” Filip guided her into the Embassy’s main room—emerald chairs were positioned in a crescent moon shape around two large chairs at the other end.

Many faces looked back at her—their mouths slightly open.

Filip showed Adelina to her seat, then swivelled to face the crowd. “I thank you for gathering here today. It is with great pleasure to introduce you to Adelina Orlova, the girl I have promised.”

“Is it true?” one man said. “Did you see the dragon?”

Adelina glanced at Filip, who nodded with encouragement.

She cleared her throat. “Yes. Svarog presented himself to me.”

Murmurs from the crowd echoed against the high ceiling.

“She will be working with our best trainer, Yelena. This will take time, of course—several months—however, her presence is vital to our cause. One she has completed her training and can use her magic, we’ll be at our strongest and the countries will be united!

” Filip’s confident voice boomed through the room.

“How do you plan to utilise your power?” another man said, rising from his chair.