Page 35 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)

With the warmth of morning on her face, Kalie sucked in a cool breath.

A gentle breeze swept through the open iron doors, ruffling her long braid and the skirt of her simple white gown.

Even this early, with the sun’s amber rays peeking over the towering Mountains of Calla, the heavy ermine cloak pinned at her neck was sweltering.

Kalie paced to the window.

She’d never been up here before. This sacred wing of the palace was built into one of the mountains surrounding it. The stone platform outside overlooked the valley and the gurgling lake below. Bushy cavanna trees lined the stone ledge, leading out to the Bridge of Destiny.

“You look radiant, Kalie,” Mylis murmured.

Her cheeks warmed. Yesterday had been a split-second impulse, one she wouldn’t be revisiting anytime soon, but someday, once things had calmed…

When he smiled like that, it was hard to resist .

“You look pretty nice yourself.”

He frowned at her cloak. “Crimson threads. You’re signaling revenge.”

The weight of the heavy sapphire cloak pressed down on her.

At each coronation, the cloak’s colored embroidery told the coded story of the duchissa’s hopes for her new reign.

Grandmother Madeleine’s had been gold, gloating.

Aunt Calida’s had been white, signaling purity and rebirth, the dawn of a new era.

Despite Uncle Jerran’s resistance, Kalie had chosen crimson thread.

“You think it’s a mistake?”

“I think it’s your choice.” Mylis smiled. “In less than an hour, you’ll officially be our Duchissa.”

The title no longer caused her pain. This was her duty now.

Once the crown’s weight settled on her head, she would commit herself to this planet for the rest of her life.

It was the destiny Azura desired for her, and she wouldn’t run from it any longer.

She’d just have to win the people over, as Aunt Calida had twenty cycles ago.

She’d show them she wasn’t just the Butcher’s daughter , but the niece of a woman who’d died fighting for freedom, a leader who would avenge their losses and lead them to prosperity.

“Okay, let’s move!” Vale swept into the crowded stone chamber. “We were supposed to be walking two minutes ago!”

It took another five minutes to get everyone organized. Six priestesses, all clad in ceremonial robes, formed the bulk of the procession leading her out to the platform. A small army of guards surrounded them, including Mylis, at her left, and Vale, at the front.

Kalie’s shoulders drooped as she looked to her right, where Zane would’ve stood.

“Because they’re all dead—dead—dead , ” echoed his pained voice.

He was a deserter, yes, but not at all a coward.

To watch each of his friends die, again and again…

She couldn’t begin to comprehend that. Mira had said he was a walking disaster when they met. That had to be why.

Perhaps Not-Mira, his mysterious friend, was among the dead who haunted him.

Kalie trailed her hand across a crimson thread snaking through her cloak. It ended in a broken stitch. She pinched the thread and tugged.

As the thread snapped and floated to the ground, a low melody played through the speakers.

“That’s our cue, my lady,” said a priestess. “May Azura bless you.”

Kalie inhaled sharply. The blessing would forever be haunted by Ariah’s last words, but it no longer brought tears to her eyes. Ariah would’ve wanted her to be strong.

The procession led her under a marble archway and across the mountain ledge. Cheers rang out as she strode onto the crystal bridge. Not cheers from the nobles; they were waiting on the other side of the bridge. It was the commoners, crowding onto mountain ledges in swarms of vibrant color.

She looked down, past the shimmering crystal under her wedge heels, into the gaping chasm that loomed below. Her breath caught. Her legs stalled, and the guard behind her bumped into her. She could only stare, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Hundreds and hundreds of feet below, commoners flooded the lakeshores and squeezed into boats.

But they were only specks, and the lake was so far away. If the crystal shattered, if she toppled over the edge…

“Your Majesty,” a guard said.

Kalie jerked her head up, licking salty sweat off her lips.

Looking down was not a brilliant idea.

Her skin warmed as the sun rose over the mountains. The priestesses had timed everything so she’d be crowned at the precise moment the sun landed on her, but the bridge stretched on forever.

Kalie dabbed at her sweaty face, careful not to smear her makeup. Her maids had woken her at two in the morning to start preparing her. It’d be a shame if she messed it all up now.

As massive waterfalls crashed into the lake below, she was painfully aware of her dry throat. Until the ceremony was over, there would be no water, no relief. They would not stop on the bridge, even though her shoes were biting into her skin and she was already out of breath.

By the time she reached the stone platform at the base of Azura’s Cathedral, she was panting .

The priestesses removed her cloak and unbound her hair. Cool wind swept over her skin. Her guards moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, forming a line between her and the Cathedral’s exposed doors.

An ancient fountain squatted behind the coronation throne.

Uncle Jerran stood next to it, holding his ivory cane as if he was a king wielding a scepter.

A few steps away, the elderly High Priestess of Iestea waited behind a podium.

The crown glittered atop it. Camera drones flitted above, but the rippling forcefields kept them at a distance.

Priestesses stripped her of all her jewelry.

Hardly able to breathe, Kalie stepped out of her shoes and knelt before the High Priestess.

The symbolic undressing was a humbling ritual, dating to the time of Calla, the first duchissa. It was meant to emphasize that she, a mere mortal, was nothing compared to the glory of Dali’s true monarch, Queen Azura.

The High Priestess’s voice boomed through the mountains, amplified by a microphone clipped to her lapel. “If you would please stand, and join us in Azura’s Prayer.”

Kalie almost stood out of habit, but she wasn’t supposed to rise until she was crowned, so she bowed her head.

Thousands of Dalian voices rose as one: “Holy Mother Azura, Queen of the Universe, we beg you to hear our voices. Bless us with your gracious favor. Guide us through the darkest nights, let us smile upon the sunrise. Take our hands, lead us on the path towards your immortal grace and eternal glory.”

The prayer echoed off the mountains, resounding through Kalie’s bones.

Birds sang above her. Their flapping forms were reduced to shadows in the glow of the rising sun. Kalie lifted her head and caught a glimpse of a snowy bird soaring by.

Her lips parted.

It was gone too quickly to register, but it could’ve been a dove—Azura’s snowy messenger, descending from the heavens to bless her new reign .

The High Priestess’s voice boomed again.

“I will now present the Duchissa Heredem—” Even now, she wasn’t the Duchissa in the eyes of the Church, not until she placed the crown on her head— “with Azura’s sacred relic, the only surviving copy of the Testament of Kixthrys.

Heredem Kalista, do you accept the holy object? ”

Kalie held her chin high. “I accept.”

A priestess handed her the tattered Testament. She clutched it to her chest, and her fingertips tingled. According to the myths, Azura had written this very copy.

“Heredem, is Your Highness willing to take the oath?”

Kalie gripped the book tighter to calm her trembling hands. “I am.”

“Do you solemnly promise, on the Testament, to govern the peoples of the world of Dali—the peoples of Iestea, Pharea, Usias, Shobe and all of Your Highness’s other domains—according to their respective laws and customs?”

Sweat dripped down her forehead. “I do.”

“Will you, in your power, cause law and justice to be executed in all judgments?”

Kalie nodded. The Testament’s spine was damp under her fingertips, but she couldn’t wipe her clammy palms off.

“I will.”

The questions and answers droned on, and her mind switched to autopilot.

The uneven stone platform pressed against her knees, sending sharp pain through her bones.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grimacing.

The simple dress, the hard stone platform, the submission to Church officials—all more tradition, to remind her of her subservience to Azura.

To distract herself from the pain, she glanced at Mylis, whose navy blue uniform shone in the sun’s glow. She smiled. He smiled back.

Soon, it would be him kneeling to receive his coronet—the circlet of the Count of Oakwood. He didn’t know yet, but once she set the pieces in motion, she would tell him of her plan.

The High Priestess’s long question trailed off, and Kalie offered the appropriate response. Her stomach fluttered as the old woman asked the question she was waiting for:

“Princessa Kalista Hannover, Heredem of Queensborough and Princess of Etov, do you claim your birthright? Do you acknowledge the divine blood running through your veins, the blood of Queen Azura? Do you, as the heir of Duchissa Calida Amador, accept your throne?”

Kalie drew herself up to full height. Inhaling deeply, she took in the sweet aroma of blooming flowers and the earthy scent of the sprawling forest around Azura’s Cathedral.

A breeze brushed against her skin, cooling the sweat on her brow.

Birds chirped in the distance. Their sweet song soothed her racing pulse.

This was it.

“I do.”

But the High Priestess was staring over her shoulder. Her solemn expression had vanished, leaving in its place complete and utter confusion.

A deep sense of unease swept through Kalie as she turned.