Page 1 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)
Legends would remember it as the night a single bombing changed the galaxy forever. In later cycles, Kalie would remember the end of the world in flashes. Screeching alarms. Troops in tar-black armor. Beads of blood staining her skin. And a final, tearful cry that would haunt her nightmares: “Go!”
But it started off as a perfectly normal day.
Or as normal as Election Day could be, when the fate of the Federation hung in the balance.
As her holopad beeped, Kalie’s eyes flew open. Wine splashed as she slammed her glass down on the end table, flipping open her holopad’s case.
It scanned her face.
Error.
She shoved a lock of her brown wig out of the way.
Error.
Right. Colored contacts and dark makeup, to fashion her into Ariah. Or, at least, Ariah’s disguise. Scowling, Kalie punched in her passcode.
The display unlocked, and her stomach dropped.
Carik had won eight more votes.
Chills raced across Kalie’s skin. Marcus Pool, Aunt Calida’s closest friend, was ahead by eighty-six Senate votes, but he’d had a lead of ninety-four ten minutes ago.
Three hundred planets still hadn’t voted.
What if more switched to Carik’s side, what if he defeated Marcus?
If Zed Carik secured another term as the Federation’s Prime Minister, he’d come for her.
He’d come for all of them, anyone who’d dared to oppose him.
Leaves rustled. Flapping wings filled the spring air.
Snatching the remote, Kalie switched off the nanotech controls. There was no point in trying to relax, not as election night drew to a close.
The beautiful sunny meadow she’d painted across her walls at the beginning of the campaign vanished, along with the floral scents and the simulated breeze. A bird’s song was cut short. The disappearance of the sound modifiers brought the roar of her flagship’s thrusters back in painful clarity.
Wincing, Kalie massaged her temples.
Marcus was still leading. A few lost votes didn’t mean Carik would win.
She sighed and stood up, whispering a prayer to the goddess Azura that they wouldn’t have to endure another three cycles under that tyrant’s rule.
The cold marble tile surrounding her overstuffed couch was an unpleasant shock after the warm blades of grass from the nanotech simulation.
Stepping into her silk slippers, Kalie padded across her stuffy living area, where her easel and paints lay abandoned.
A press of a button set a simulated fire blazing in the hearth.
With shaking hands, she filled her glass and took a sip of wine to ease her nerves, then swiped her hand over her suite’s vacant holoprojector.
A three-dimensional news broadcast fizzled to life .
And, of course , the broadcast showed her giving the summit’s closing speech.
Kalie slashed her hand through the air. The projector changed channels.
It wasn’t actually her who’d given the speech earlier, but the Federation had seen a woman identical to her speaking to an applauding crowd of senators.
Treason, in Carik’s eyes. He couldn’t act now, but if he was still Prime Minister tomorrow morning, with a vote confirming his control over the Federation’s fleets…
She checked the door. Closed. Her large, airy suite was empty.
But no one was safe with Zed Carik as the Federation’s Prime Minister. Especially not her family.
“—either Senator Pool chose her because of his friendship with Duchissa Calida,” a suave voice was saying, in smooth Galstan, “or he finally saw sense and decided to throw the election.”
Kalie’s nails bit into her skin.
In the broadcast that had replaced hers, the Prime Minister of the Federation lounged in a high-backed armchair, as if he had not a care in the stars.
She couldn’t wait to see Carik’s smug look disappear when Marcus became Prime Minister.
“Pool needs someone to deliver a final speech to the Senate, and who does he choose? An Etovian brat who’s never accomplished anything in her life?”
Kalie’s nostrils flared. The reminder cut deep—that she wasn’t fully Dalian, that her father was a Dalian ally who most considered an enemy.
Mother above, she hated Zed Carik.
The reporter sitting across from Carik, one of his sycophantic minions, frowned. “Prime Minister, that may be too harsh?—”
“Too harsh?” Carik laughed. “Need I regale you once again with Princess Kalista’s long list of accomplishments?”
Her fists flexed. He didn’t even bother to use her proper title—it was Princessa in Dali’s ancient language, a title that reminded her people of her descent from the gods .
Or it had, anyway, before the Federation’s mandates had forced everyone to use their official language, Galstan.
“She passed up her chance to govern a Dalian county. She dropped out of boarding school after half a semester. She resigned from her post as ambassador to her father’s empire before it even began, and let’s not forget the Ryker scandal?—”
“Damn you,” Kalie hissed. He had some nerve.
A tiny voice in her head, one that sounded like Mother, whispered that he had a point.
Her fingers clenched around the stem of her glass.
Carik would fall soon enough. When he did, they would see.
They’d all see, everyone who’d ever doubted her.
Her parents, her standoffish brother and brat of a sister, the nobles who gossiped behind her back, the news outlets who said she was a flighty, brainless heiress, good for nothing but screwing things up.
“You sound confident you’ll win reelection, Your Excellency.”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” Carik flashed his pearly white grin, the one that had the socialites in Sector One fawning over him. “I’ve served our Federation for twenty-five cycles now, and my Senate will make the right decision. They always do.”
A warning.
The door slammed open, and Kalie shot to her feet, banging her shin against the kaf table.
As she fumbled for the sidearm holstered at her waist, her glass toppled.
Rivers of carmine wine gushed across the mahogany surface.
Her heart pounded. The guards—she hadn’t heard any blasts—they were supposed to?—
Her breath rushed out of her as Ariah strode into the room, draped in a silk gown. Attendants carted in bulging suitcases.
Staring at the mirror image of herself—or, at least, the mirror image of her real self, without the wig and contacts—Kalie snapped off a salute.
“Princessa Kalista.”
Flicking her golden plait over her shoulder, Ariah winked. “At ease, Guardsman Rivers.”
Kalie lowered her hand and smiled. Ariah was more than a body double, not quite a clone. Somewhere in between—her genetic twin, modified before birth to mirror her, her sister by blood and bond. Not that anyone knew.
She’d become invisible again. All attention was on the woman masquerading as the Dalian Princessa.
She and Ariah had mastered the art of looking similar but distinct, and as the attendants turned to the luggage, they paid no attention to her, the personal guard with brown hair and green contacts.
Some illegitimate cousin to the Dalian royal family, according to Ariah’s official identification—the identification Kalie now wore.
Ariah sauntered across the room, dropping her diamond tiara on an end table. Kalie opened her mouth to chide her, but Ariah beat her to it.
“Wine on duty? Last I checked, I don’t pay my guards to paint and watch the news.”
Kalie narrowed her eyes. Her gemod double smirked and raised an eyebrow.
She had way too much fun with this.
On the holoscreen, Carik was repeating all the horrible, elitist policies that made the vainest counts on Dali look enlightened. With every vile word that slipped from his mouth, the tension in her muscles coiled tighter.
The projection fizzled out, and Kalie whirled around.
“You’re going to stress yourself out. Relax .” Lowering the remote, Ariah dropped onto a futon. “I have to call my aunt. Her Majesty’s expecting a report on the summit, and we’ll lose connection at the gate. Ari, see the attendants out, would you?”
Kalie didn’t have to give the order—at the sound of Ariah’s voice, the attendants scuttled towards the gold doors.
Shaking her head, Ariah closed out of the polls and set the holopad aside. “I guess meditation didn’t work?”
Kalie bit her tongue against the protest that something might happen if she looked away from the polls. If Marcus didn’t keep his lead, if he didn’t oust Carik…
She shuddered.
It wouldn’t be the first time Carik arranged an accident for his enemies—and their families .
A holo of a little auburn-haired girl appeared over the holocomm in Ariah’s palm. As Lexie flashed a gap-toothed grin, Kalie smiled—but all too quickly, fear tightened her throat. If Carik won, her baby cousin would be a target, too.
“Kalie!” Only her head was visible, but Lexie was clearly bouncing. Sitting still was never one of the Duchissa Heredem’s strengths. “You read my book?”
Ariah smiled warmly as she held up the mess of glitter and crayon, held together by tape. “It’s very, very good. You outdid yourself, Lex.”
Lexie beamed. “Who do you like most?”
“Hmm.” Ariah leafed through the delicate pages. “Princessa Cavanna, I think.”
“Mine was the dragon,” Kalie lied, flashing Ariah’s usual smirk. “She reminds me of me.”
Ara the Dragon could only be one person, but even with Lexie, the risk was too great to let their ruse drop. With Lex’s usual gaggle of minders and guards, there were too many listening ears.
“I named her for you!” Glee shone in Lexie’s bright eyes. “Ara is a big pink dragon, and she likes to color, and she reads to her baby cousin, and they go on lots and lots of adventures to save the world?—”
As Lexie prattled on, Kalie tried not to think about Carik or the polls, she really did, but the ticking chrono won out. “You can tell us all about it when we get home,” she said, in Ariah’s voice, “but we need to talk to Auntie now.”
Lexie pouted, and Ariah threw a look over her shoulder, as if reminding Kalie that she was supposed to be acting like the fun one.