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I sighed dramatically. “Oh, I don’t know, Rankor. It could have something to do with the fact that someone in my inner circle tried to kill me for months and only ended up killing one of my best friends instead.”

We rarely spoke about Camilla, or how she had fooled us all into thinking she was our friend, while she secretly got addicted to forbidden magic in her attempt to kill me.

In her addiction-fueled rage, she had planned an attack during a palace party.

The attack had been the first time I’d had to battle during a real-life threat, and I hadn’t been good enough.

I wasn’t fast enough to stop an assassin from killing Lorelai, the fiery-haired Truthseeker who had been one of the first to befriend me.

Camilla’s betrayal had shocked everyone in the kingdom.

No one else had deciphered why she had lost herself in blood magic.

But I knew.

In the immediate days after her capture, I had visited her in the palace dungeons and she had told me of a prophecy she had once found.

A prophecy seemingly written about me: The daughter of Hyrax will shake the veil, and the King of Damnation will rise once more to rule over the children of the Gods.

She will create a new death in the Mortal Realm and will stand at his side as his armies usher in the new age. Prepare for the Final War of the Gods.

That prophecy was yet another secret I was keeping because the last thing I needed was people in this palace thinking I would destroy the world.

Not that it mattered anyway. Regardless of what some stupid prophecy from hundreds of years ago said, I would not shake the Veil between worlds.

I couldn’t shake the Veil, not even the Gods themselves could move it.

So, giving voice to the delusional concerns of a dark Witch was entirely unnecessary.

“Go bathe,” Rankor commanded, flopping onto the settee in the parlor of my apartment suites and reaching for my bar cart. “The party in your honour begins in about an hour, which doesn’t give us much time to get fashionably drunk beforehand.”

I rolled my eyes, but did as I was told, eager to wash the sweat and blood off me.

After the trial, nurses immediately pulled me into the infirmary to set my broken nose and heal all other injuries until all that remained were bruises and small red welts.

From there, I’d found Emeryn, my new chief-of-staff, waiting in the hall.

As my ascension to the Council became more imminent, the Council decided I would need someone on my staff to help manage my schedule, engagements, and public image.

The role seemed ridiculous to me, but Emeryn had been my constant shadow since we were first introduced.

She was a stern woman, always dressed in simple black gowns with her hair pulled back into a tight knot.

And she took her job very seriously. When my hour break was up, she would knock on the door to take me to my celebration dinner.

Nessira, my lady-in-waiting, had prepared a steaming bath with lavender oils and left several bottles of soap and fresh towels for me, one of the many reasons she was one of my favorite people.

“We should discuss the young women who have applied for the opening within your staff, my lady,” she said, as she began twisting my long blonde hair into an elaborate knot at the back of my neck.

I didn’t miss the way Rankor flinched at the mention that I needed a new lady-in-waiting.

The second spot had recently become vacant after my initial lady, a cheery young girl named Geia, betrayed me and helped Camilla kidnap me away from the palace.

I took the glass of wine he offered me and downed it in a single sitting.

“Perhaps I do not need a replacement,” I said. “You manage just fine.”

Nessira raised a brow at me disapprovingly. “Surely I do not deserve more work because you are hesitant to admit that the girl was never the friend you wanted her to be.”

I bit down on my lip .

“Bit harsh, Nessira,” Rankor chastised.

Nessira shrugged. “My lady used to like when we spoke honestly to her.”

She was right. I had always encouraged her to speak to me as an equal. I had embraced the advice and companionship of my ladies-in-waiting. Look where that had gotten me.

Still, Nessira didn’t deserve more work because I was too afraid to move on with my life.

So I nodded my agreement and promised to glance over the recommendations that she had left for me in the morning.

She dressed me in a floor-length gown the color of blood.

Its boned bodice hugged my torso, emphasizing the curve of my breasts and the swell of my hips before falling effortlessly to my feet.

Two long capes of tulle hung over my back, secured by the sparkling golden applique that hung over my chest and shoulders.

She painted my lips dark and lined my eyes in kohl.

“You look magnificent,” Rankor complimented.

“I look like the daughter of Hyrax,” I mumbled, staring at myself in the mirror as Nessira tucked a matching golden crown into my hair.

Rankor chuckled. “You are a daughter of Hyrax.”

Didn’t mean I had to be happy about it.

“There is one last thing, my lady.” Nessira sighed and approached me with the black ink.

I desperately wanted to protest as she set about painting on the Mark of Hyrax on my chest, but I ground my teeth until I was sure they would crack and allowed it.

The Dragon had decided it would be better for the public to not know about my missing Mark.

He believed it raised too many questions that could make my standing in society too precarious.

In other words, he needed me to be unquestionably a Descendant of Hyrax and that came with a descendants Mark.

But I liked the appearance of my bare skin without that Bident on my chest. I liked not having a reminder of Hyrax, his lies, or the prophecy so blatantly in my face.

“Come on,” Rankor drawled, linking my arm through his. “Your adoring fans are waiting.”

I excused Nessira and ushered Rankor to the door, asking for a minute to relieve myself in the restroom. Rankor only smiled and nodded, heading to the parlor and allowing me the briefest moment of privacy. For a second, I stood frozen, victim to the dread that had taken root in my gut.

“You coming?” Rankor called from the door.

“Be right there!” I cried, rushing to my closet in a frantic haze.

With a quick glance over my shoulder, I went to the trunk hidden in the back corner under my cloaks.

I opened it gingerly, careful not to let it make a sound as I lifted the lid and began filtering through the weapons.

I looked until I found the small dagger and thigh sheath I’d grown accustomed to sneaking onto my person.

As I clicked it into place, I reveled in the warmth of comfort that filled me when I tucked it under my dress.

When Camilla sliced me open and drained my magic, I had been totally defenseless.

Powerless .

When I fought my way through that battle, I vowed to myself that I would never allow myself to feel that way again.

“Ready!” I announced, joining Rankor in the parlor.Emeryn was waiting outside for us, hand poised to knock on the door just as we stepped out. She looked over at me appraisingly and nodded, as if to say this look would work. She dipped her head respectfully and motioned for us to follow her.

“We expect full attendance for this evening’s festivities, my lady.

” She wasted no time in getting to business.

“The Dragon will announce you and give the celebratory toast to begin the evening. Dinner will take place at seven sharp and you will sit at the head table with members of the Council and their families. Dignitaries vising from Tennebris and the Republic of Innais are also in attendance this evening and will be eager for an audience with you.”

“Are you sure we have to go to this?” I whispered to Rankor under my breath while she continued detailing the night’s itinerary.

“Yes,” Emeryn barked, not even bothering to glance back at us. “Nowthat we’ve caught Camilla, it’s time for you to focus on your ascension to the Council and your overall role in society. This is your duty, my lady. You cannot delay it any longer.”

The truth of those words settled into every fiber of my being.