Page 21 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)

The blinding glow from the stargate drop faded, and Kalie blinked rapidly to clear black spots from her vision. A mechanical screech whirred through the cramped cockpit. As the noise died and the darkshields folded into the ceiling, her breath caught.

There, on the other side of the viewport, was Dali.

She pressed her fingers to her lips. A blurry veil clouded her vision, but the serene mass of swirling blues and greens was still one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen.

Dali was the same, but nothing else was.

“I didn’t remember what it looked like,” Wells mumbled. His haunted eyes were glued to the viewport.

“You haven’t been back since…?”

Since your father died, she meant to say, but her throat swelled up.

“No. Not since we fled.” Wells’s cold voice made Kalie flinch, and she edged away from him. “By the time war broke out on Oppalli, even a day trip to the nearest planet was more than my mom and I could afford. I couldn’t just choose to visit Dali.”

Kalie opened her mouth, but what was there to say? ‘I’m sorry’? Anything she said would be too inadequate. She closed her mouth and shifted her gaze to her clasped hands.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he said, scowling. “People with money never do.”

She bristled. He’d lost as much as her, though, so she bit her tongue. If he needed to lash out to cope, she’d take it. It wasn’t worth arguing over.

As the aibot adjusted the controls, the ship plunged through the fluffy clouds and soared over the sprawling Dalian capital, Olympia.

Bushy green trees and thick grass surrounded marble buildings, gold domes, and cobblestone streets.

The sparkling River Halle ran through town square.

Gondolas drifted down smaller streams flowing through the rest of the city.

A warm summer day with old friends flitted through her mind. In the hazy memory, the gondola swayed gently. Salty waves splashed against the sides as Ariah laughed and flicked water at her…

The transport banked west, and Kalie sniffed, pushing the memories down.

She’d seen the Eternal Palace hundreds of times, surrounded by steam rising from the waterfalls cascading down the Mountains of Calla.

The sight had lost its magic before she’d learned to read.

It had always been Aunt Calida’s palace, though.

Never had she imagined it would be hers.

Rays of sunlight glinted on its towering gold domes, marble walls, bronze pillars, and renowned stained glass windows.

Trees covered the mountainside, usually as vibrant and full of life as the waterfalls weaving between them. Now they were barren and withered.

They soared over the Bridge of Destiny. The crystal bridge stretched between the mountains, connecting a pair of stone platforms. One was built into the upper levels of the palace. The platform’s twin rested below the towering church on the opposite mountain.

Azura’s Cathedral .

Kalie shivered. She’d be crowned there, someday soon.

The ship descended through the sparse treetops into a sprawling mountaintop garden, full of colorful flowers that could withstand the fall chill.

They landed in a patch of yellowing grass, on a hill below the palace’s entrance hall. Hydraulics hissed. Dying hedges surrounded the platform, another bad omen. Kalie held her head in her hands, swallowing the thickness in her throat.

“Each day, it’ll hurt a little less,” Wells murmured, not unkindly.

She raised her head. He was already descending the ramp.

At the base of the ramp stood a familiar figure. Kalie’s breath hitched. Clad in an ostentatious purple and gold tunic, he leaned on a bejeweled cane crafted from a pelaros’s horn. His smile deepened the creases on his wrinkled face.

Bolting down the landing ramp, she flung herself at Uncle Jerran.

He staggered back. His chuckle rumbled through her as he wrapped her in an embrace.

Kalie inhaled the scent of ink and parchment that had clung to him since she was a toddler curled up in his study. That familiar scent smelled like comfort and safety.

There were other scents that should’ve been here. Aunt Calida’s jasmine perfume, Lexie’s strawberry bath wash, the aroma of rose oil that clung to Ariah like a cloud.

Those phantom smells whisked her back to the last time she’d come home to Dali.

Aunt Calida had raced down the cobbled path, her gown swishing around her feet, all traces of formality gone.

With a broad smile lighting her face, she’d dragged Kalie into a hug.

Rocking her back and forth, she’d whispered, “I love you, sunshine,” and “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart,” ignoring the courtiers whispering about their lack of decorum.

Then Lexie was there, laughing and grabbing her leg, begging her to come and listen to her new story, and Ariah had swept their baby cousin up into her arms…

All gone.

Cold air rushed over Kalie, and she clutched Uncle Jerran’s purple tunic. “I’m so glad you weren’t there. ”

“Azura was watching over me. I only wish she would’ve watched over all of us.”

Kalie sniffed. Hidden by his shoulder, she tried forcing her face into a mask of dignified composure. She failed miserably.

Lexie would’ve jabbered away to them about the adventures of her toys and imaginary friends. Ariah would’ve laughed and picked out her favorites, and Aunt Calida would’ve watched with a twinkle in her eyes. If Uncle Jerran had time to spare, he’d be waiting a step behind her.

Kalie’s lip wobbled. He was all she had left, now.

She drew on warm memories of listening to him read, pushing down thoughts of the others. Once she could hold her mask in place, she stepped out of his arms.

Two familiar figures waited behind Uncle Jerran. Kalie tensed.

She didn’t have time to muster a polite greeting as Mother rushed towards her, sweeping her into an embrace. “Oh, Kalista… my daughter…” Dramatic sobs punctuated her words, and the camera drones circling them flashed rapidly as they snapped pictures. “I thought I’d lost you, I didn’t dare hope…”

Of course now Mother accepted she was alive, when she had no other choice and needed to save face. Kalie wanted to say something biting, but the court was watching, and her family drama had entertained their world for far too long.

She disentangled herself from Mother. That was their first hug in… five, six cycles? Fighting back a scowl, she gave a polite curtsey. “Your Majesty. It’s lovely to see you.”

“You needn’t be so formal, my love.” Mother dabbed at her dry eyes with a handkerchief.

Kalie flashed a bland smile, but she didn’t reply. Calling her by anything other than her title would confirm the false picture of familial love Mother was trying to paint for the media.

Selene hung back a few steps. She was clearly fuming, though her court mask was neutral.

Her long black braid fell over an azure gown with a modest neckline and long, flowing sleeves.

She usually dressed in the fiery colors and provocative styles of the Etovian court, but she must’ve realized Dalian women would find Etovian dresses scandalous.

“Sister.” Selene’s voice was passably warm. “I was so glad to hear of your return.”

“We all were,” Mother chimed in, straightening her glittering diamond pendant. It had once been the crown jewel of Duchissa Coriana’s collection. “All of us awaited the arrival of the true heir to my sister’s throne.”

And yet you were scheming for Selene to seize it.

Mother probably hadn’t shed a single genuine tear for her.

Kalie forced another smile. “Your support is greatly appreciated.”

“Who’s your companion?” Selene asked, in a tone that would surely start rumors spreading.

Several nobles looked at Wells. Some seemed suspicious, others appeared baffled.

“This,” Kalie said, raising her voice, “is Zander Wells, son of Baron Wells of Avington.”

Murmurs swept between the nobles, and surprise flitted across Mother’s face. Selene glanced at the gold chrono on her wrist. She’d been born after the war, so she’d clearly never heard the name.

Folding his arms, Wells surveyed the nobles who lined the prickly hedges.

“He helped me return home at great personal cost, and I intend to make him one of my Guardsmen. I assure you, the charges against him are fabrications by Carik. I trust him.”

Wells’s brows climbed to his hairline.

She hadn’t said it earlier, but it was true enough. He hadn’t turned on her yet, and at this point, he didn’t have much reason to. He had nowhere else to go.

“They seem to be doing a lot of that these days.” Uncle Jerran turned towards the nobles. “I think we can all agree that Carik’s charges are baseless.”

The implication was clear in his pointed tone—there were people at court who believed Carik’s vile lies about her and Uncle Jerran.

Mother and Selene had probably coaxed those rumors along.

Uncle Jerran limped towards Zane. He’d been physically intimidating once, as the general of Aunt Calida’s forces in the civil war.

But the war had destroyed him, and by the time Grandmother Madeleine and her lover Kain committed suicide and ended it, Uncle Jerran’s losses had changed him irreparably.

His fame, though, had grown greater. He’d already been the Prince of Selou, the Count of Merlea, and the Governor of Iestea—one of the four highest elected officials in the Dalian Collectivate, Dali’s legislative assembly.

After he won the war and deposed his sister, he’d gained another moniker—the Throne Maker.

Now his name was both feared and respected.

Wells folded his arms, glowering at Uncle Jerran.

Feared and respected —or resented.

“Zander’s son,” Uncle Jerran said fondly. It was too late to warn him; the court was watching. “Thank you for your service to my niece.”

Wells opened his mouth, but to Kalie’s eternal gratitude, he looked at her before he spoke. He schooled his face into a calmer expression. “I did what I had to do.”