Page 25 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)

“I wouldn’t want to keep my wife’s uncle waiting, I suppose,” Hewlett said, in that shared language of courteous displeasure. He bowed again before taking his leave, winding through the spray of waterfalls.

“I’m glad you made it back safely, Your Majesty,” Grant said quietly.

With Hewlett gone, the disinherited heir to Oakwood stood with a newfound confidence in his stance. He still looked nervous—understandably so, given the bloody end to their families’ long friendship.

“Thank you, Mr. Grant.”

“Please, call me Mylis.” A flush crept to his cheeks, and he looked away. “If that’s not presumptuous, of course.”

Kalie chuckled. “Not at all.”

The thumping of drums heralded the beginning of a jaunty new song, followed by the hoots of trumpets and the fast, rhythmic notes of a violin.

She scanned the exuberant crowd. In the tangle of nobles dancing wildly, the Count of Oakwood had disappeared.

“You should be more careful around Hewlett.”

Mylis shrugged and flashed a grin, but his hands still trembled. “He’s already tried to kill me five times. What’s one more?”

Her eyes widened. “He’s tried to—do you have any proof?”

Powerful count or not, that wasn’t something justice could ignore.

“Uh… no.” Mylis shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “But he’s the only one who has motive.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that being Uncle Jerran’s former ward made him a target for half the aristocracy. The other half, the ones loyal to her family, would see him dead just for being the traitor’s son .

“You need to be careful. Men like Hewlett don’t take kindly to baseless accusations.”

“I’m not afraid of Hewlett, Your Majesty.”

“Perhaps you should be.” Kalie glanced at his pockets. She’d bet her crown that his hands were still shaking.

“Are you afraid of the man who destroyed your family?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. In her mind’s eye, all she could see was Carik. Carik, with a smug smile, Carik, gloating about his victory, Carik, giving the order to execute her and her family…

“Forgive me,” he said, bowing, “I meant no disrespect.”

“No.”

Mylis looked like a deer caught in a hovercraft’s headlights.

“No. I’m not afraid of him.” Her voice wasn’t as confident as she would’ve liked. “I can’t afford to be.”

He grimaced. “Neither can I.”

The clink of a spoon striking glass rang through the hall, and the orchestra fell silent. Murmurs swept through the ballroom. Uncle Jerran stood on center stage, with his champagne glass raised high. The lights shining on him made him look like the leading man in a play.

“I would like to propose a toast!” he called.

Commotion broke out as nobles scrambled to find glasses. Kalie swiped two off a passing waiter’s tray and handed one to Mylis.

“The loss of Her Majesty is a tragedy for our planet,” Uncle Jerran said, “but I know she’s resting easy now that her throne is in the capable hands of her niece. I’ve served four generations of duchissas, but never have I met one who loves Dali and its people as much as Kalista.”

All eyes shifted to Kalie, and she forced herself to smile.

It was a lie. His mother Coriana and Aunt Calida were rulers who’d devoted themselves to Dali.

She was only here to avenge her family. When that was done, she had no intention of staying chained to this court.

They hated her for her Etovian blood. Many wished her dead.

With all the assassination plots her guards had foiled over the cycles, many had surely tried—so no, she didn’t love this court, she hated it .

Even the common people called her the Butcher’s daughter and Etovian mongrel .

“So please raise your glasses in a toast to our next duchissa. May Kalista’s reign be long and prosperous!”

Cheers joined the ruckus of clinking glasses as the nobles drank. Kalie knocked her glass against Mylis’s and took a sip of the bubbly champagne.

Uncle Jerran wove across the room. Around him, a sea of nobles surged to get to her.

She stepped towards him, paused, and flashed Mylis a smile. “It was a pleasure talking with you, Mylis, but I need a word with my uncle. Please excuse me.”

He bowed his head.

She rushed away, slipping through the tide of courtiers. Uncle Jerran steered her to a secluded spot under the spray of a column of water.

“What was all that about?”

“I had to return the attention to you. I fear your indomitable mother is set on making your homecoming all about her.”

Kalie scowled. Mother’s crowd of courtiers seemed to be hanging on her every word. Selene had created her own rival court; her girlish laughs rang through the hall as she batted her eyelashes at younger nobles.

“She won’t admit defeat. I’ll be the Duchissa, but she’ll push to make Selene the Heredem.”

“Your eldest brother is expecting a girl, is he not? You could offer to raise her as your heir, as Calida did for you.”

“I’m no closer to Theron than Selene.”

“Until you have your own child, you have to pick someone?—”

“I know,” Kalie huffed. “But we have more important topics to discuss than my heir.”

“Such as?”

She scanned the room. No one was close enough to hear them. Bracing her elbows on the gold railing, she leaned into the sound buffer created by the crackling water. “I had an interesting meeting on the way back to Dali. One of Carik’s old enemies is amassing an army to depose him.”

“Oh?”

Neither his face nor his tone betrayed any hint of his feelings.

“You spent some time campaigning for him.”

Uncle Jerran hummed. “And what was your assessment of him?”

“He’s a suit,” Wells’s voice warned. Kalie grimaced.

“I’m not sure we can trust his motives.”

“My dear, in politics, you can trust no one.” Uncle Jerran sighed. “You’re inclined to throw our support behind him, it seems. So I’ll ask you what I asked Calida two decades ago. War is costly. Are you willing to pay that price?”

She turned from the round waterfall to the lively, festive ballroom, drinking in the sight of couples twirling to sweet melodies. The imagined sight of this beautiful hall in ruins, littered with corpses, made her stomach turn.

“I have to be.” Breathing in the perfumed air, Kalie cleared her throat. “It’s not just about revenge. We’ve been targeted, and I suspect Carik will start targeting the rest of his enemies now that he’s proven he can get away with it. We have to remove him while we have a chance.”

“Don’t be hasty. If peace is an option, we owe it to our people to pursue it. Send Carik your terms?—”

“He’ll never agree, no matter what I demand.”

“But you’ll be able to say you tried.”

“We’d be wasting time! He’ll scoff if I demand his resignation, and he’ll never cooperate with an investigation.” Uncle Jerran held up his hand, but she barreled on, trembling with fury. “He doesn’t deserve a chance for peace, not after what he did! He deserves to burn in hell?—”

“Is that what your people deserve?”

Kalie’s nails dug into her skin. I don’t care , she wanted to say, and honestly, what room did he have to talk?

His war against Grandmother Madeleine had destroyed the planet.

He hadn’t kept the people’s best interests at heart.

Pointing that out would accomplish nothing, though—she needed him on her side .

“I told your friend I’d have an answer in three days.”

“Then inform him you’ll be sending terms for peace, and continue to update him on the progress. Keep this quiet, Kalista. Many wars have been won before the first battle was fought.”

Kalie’s face heated. The throne was hers , the decision was hers . He had no right to speak to her like a dull-witted child. She was the fourth duchissa he’d served over the course of his seventy-three cycles, though, and everyone knew the real power on Dali belonged to him.

She wasn’t the leader Dali needed, he was.

Swallowing her pride, she nodded.

“Good.” Uncle Jerran lowered his voice. “What do you make of young Mr. Grant?”

“He’s brash. Reckless with his words. He doesn’t fear the authority of those in power.”

“And it is precisely that which makes him a valuable asset. A guard who doesn’t fear his duchissa’s rivals makes for a guard who can’t be cowed by them.”

“You want me to put him on my guard.”

Uncle Jerran smiled. On stage, the singer belted out a soul-shattering high note.

“It’s a double-edged sword,” Kalie protested, though she could see the merits of employing one of Dali’s best pilots. “If he doesn’t respect my authority?—”

“Ah.” Uncle Jerran held up a finger adorned with a gaudy amethyst ring.

“Respect and fear are two very different things, of which Mylis is acutely aware. Does he fear you? Likely not. There’s too much in his past for him to frighten easily now.

But if you treat him with respect, you’ll earn his unwavering loyalty. ”

“Would you put him on your guard?”

“Most certainly.”

Spray from the waterfall misted over her. “And you haven’t done so because…?”

“We’re too close. I’ve raised the boy since he was a teenager.”

Laughter rang out. A dancing couple swept across the floor in a whirlwind of pink and teal .

Uncle Jerran frowned as he watched them, probably thinking about his late wife. “I’m the closest thing he has to a father.”

Kalie shuddered. “What does he think of his actual father? Has he been to Titan?”

“The boy’s only visited Landon a few times, and as far as I can tell, his trips to the prison haven’t left him with a strong impression.

” Uncle Jerran gave her an assessing look, the sort he’d used on her as an errant child.

“To judge Mylis based on his father would be like judging Calida based on my sister. Or judging you by your parents’ actions, which, I’ll remind you, were far more catastrophic for the vast majority of Dalians than Landon’s assassination attempt. ”

She winced. The scars left by Father’s bombings lingered, even now.