Page 41 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)

A crack of thunder boomed through Etov’s gray sky as Zane eased the ship through a dense layer of clouds.

Kalie burrowed into his bulky sweatshirt, scanning the fiery horizon.

It had been over a cycle since she’d last visited the Empire’s capital planet, and Etov had changed vastly.

Domed skycities floated in the clouds, supported by the most durable consteel that credits could buy.

Kalie grimaced. They were Mother’s idea, no doubt.

Though Dali’s riches surpassed the wealth of the eight planets in the Etovian Empire, Mother loved to flaunt Etov’s prosperity.

A blinding burst of magma lit the planet’s dark horizon, flowing down a range of rumbling volcanoes.

Kalie dug her broken nails into her palms. A few weeks ago, with Ariah at her side, she would’ve scoffed if someone suggested she would ever turn to Etov for help.

Her message this morning had gone unanswered .

Zane punched through the last layer of dark clouds, and a roiling ocean greeted them. “Are you sure this is safe?”

Kalie hugged her arms to her chest. “It has to be.”

This was the last place she had to turn, and there was no guarantee she wouldn’t be turned away. Or worse.

Thunder roared, and lightning flashed in the looming darkness. She pursed her lips. Of all the things she hated about Etov, the storms were high on the list.

As Zane pulled the ship up, the shining palace of Redmont appeared on an island in the unsettled ocean. The air shimmered around it, shielding the palace from the ravages of the storm.

“Weather forcefields, huh?” Zane snorted. “I didn’t know they really existed.”

Kalie rolled her eyes. “Leave it to Mother.”

The ship’s intercom crackled, and a transmission cut through, plagued by static. “Unidentified shuttle… self… risk… fired on. Any closer… cannons will…”

The words fired on clanged through her, and she jammed down the transmit button. “Redmont Spaceport Guard, hold your fire. This is Lotus One, requesting permission to enter airspace.”

The shimmering forcefield grew closer, along with the cannons that were perpetually armed. Lightning struck again. No reply. Zane shot her a look as if to say, What do we do?

Kalie motioned for him to keep going.

The transceiver crackled again, and the signal came through, stronger this time: “Copy that, Lotus One. Requesting authentication code.”

“The phoenix rises from the ashes,” she said, praying to Azura and her court that they’d let her through.

A dark shadow leapt out of the sea, then dove through the water with an explosive splash. Kalie gnawed on her lip. They were closing in on the shoreline’s raised cannons. Zane paled, cut the engines, and slowed their descent.

“We’re thirty seconds out. What am I doing here, Kalie?”

“Okay,” she breathed, “pull up?— ”

The intercom crackled. Kalie flinched back, gripping the armrests of the co-pilot’s seat.

“Understood. Welcome home, Your Highness. Please dock in bay five.”

Sighing, she sagged into her chair.

“They took their sweet time,” Zane grumbled.

A quadrant of the forcefield phased out over the private spaceport, and the storm swept through with them. Rain pelted the docks; wind hurled a supply cart into a shed, and metal crashed into plaster. Kalie cringed.

As Zane eased the ship towards the designated bay, two drenched figures waved glowing orange sticks to guide them in. Following their gestures, he landed the ship smoothly.

Kalie rested her head against the backrest, savoring the quiet. With her Etovian relatives, it was never calm for long.

“How long’s it been since you visited?”

She cracked her eyes open, glanced at the opulent palace jutting from the island, and closed them again.

“I was on Renan last cycle—that’s one of the other planets in the system.

It was Rian’s coronation. He’s the High King of the Renish, in name at least. As far as Etov…

Selene’s seventeenth birthday?” No, before that. “It was the wedding. Theron’s wedding.”

“Theron’s the oldest, right?”

She let herself have one last moment of solitude, then she pushed herself up and followed Zane out. Her aching muscles protested the movement.

“Yes, but don’t ever call him Theron. He’s the Crown Prince, heir to the Empire, and he wants everyone to know it.”

“So obsession with titles runs in the family?”

She turned her nose up. “I let you call me Kalie.”

“Hell will freeze over first,” he mimicked, in a higher pitch.

She rolled her eyes. “Keep that up, and it’ll be Your Majesty to you.” Only Your Grace , actually, now that she was neither Duchissa nor Heredem. Kalie’s heart sank, and she pushed the thought aside. “Theron’s wife Sadini is lovely. They’re expecting a child. I’m the second, then Selene. ”

“I know who she is,” Zane muttered.

“Regrettably.”

“And the others? You don’t talk about them much.” He pressed a button to lower the ramp. “Don’t tell me they’re worse than Selene.”

“No one can be worse than her.” Kalie smoothed her hair and peered at her blurred reflection in the gleaming metal wall.

“Danae’s my half-sister, but she’s my favorite.

Rian’s the youngest. He inherited Renan through my mother’s father.

I doubt we’ll see them, though. Rian comes to visit as often as I do, and Mother goes out of her way to separate Danae from us. ”

Zane mouthed the names silently, as if trying to memorize them.

Mustering up the last dregs of her energy, Kalie shuffled down the ramp. On the tarmac, a peculiar scene greeted her: sopping wet guides, massive puddles of water, a sunny sky and a gentle breeze. The artificial weather generators had kicked back in.

The guides knelt to Kalie. Six burly Praetorian Guards waited behind them, wearing burgundy uniforms and carrying both pulsers and ceremonial staffs. They pounded their staffs into the ground, then bowed.

She winced. She didn’t deserve that royal greeting, not now.

“We’ll take the underground entrance.” A Praetor gestured to a supply shed. “There’s a shuttle waiting downstairs to take us to the cellar.”

Kalie pursed her lips. If the underground passage was anything like the one in Father’s Imperial City palace, it was dark and cramped. Though Mother had snubbed her before, she’d at least had the courtesy to receive her in the entrance hall.

But Iliana and Carik were hunting her, and a grand welcome would send up a flare for every legionnaire, mercenary, and Dalian traitor trying to convince Iliana of their loyalty. Mother was being smart about this. Surely they’d just greet her on the underground platform instead.

“This way, Princess.”

Zane took three strides forward before Kalie realized the guard was talking to her.

Only one syllable was missing, but here, Princess Hannover would always be Selene or Danae.

The title was Princessa in the ancient language of Dali, but that was too foreign for the Etovians, who preferred the Federation’s Galstan.

Or maybe they just preferred to address her by her Etovian title.

Or maybe they called her Princess because she could no longer return to Dali.

Kalie hung her head as she trudged after them into the shed, hobbled down a flight of stairs, and climbed into the rickety shuttle beside Zane.

The tunnel’s lights blinked out, and the shuttle lurched forward. She slammed into the rusted metal bar, stifling a cry as it collided with her ribs. The bar’s creak echoed in the dark tunnel.

As a distant light grew closer, she focused on her breathing, channeling her exhaustion and irritation out with each exhale.

Selene would taunt her, Mother would jab at her, and Theron would look on with his usual indifference, but she couldn’t react.

She would be the picture of deference and modesty.

She would curtsey and offer her thanks, and though it would be galling, she would apologize for her impertinence on Dali.

The shuttle screeched as it jolted to a stop. Kalie collided with the safety bar again, clenching her teeth as her bandaged side burned. Plastering a smile on her face, she looked up.

Her smile faltered.

She scanned the burgundy-clad guards on the platform, searching for glossy black hair, or a sparkling Dalian pendant, or a tall man with a clipped black beard. As her heart pounded a desperate beat, she looked for a pregnant woman with ebony skin, but even Sadini was absent.

None of her family had come to welcome her.

Steam rose from the heaps of food on her tray as Kalie shoveled it into her mouth.

She hardly took the time to chew the heavily spiced meat before swallowing it.

It was embarrassingly undignified, but she’d thrown etiquette out the door once Redmont’s Chief Doctor had closed it behind him.

Her newly mended ribs ached. The twisting in her empty stomach was worse.

The door swung open, and as she jumped, her fork clattered to her plate.

Two mountainous Praetors loomed in the doorway. Both pounded their staffs into the ground, which could only mean one thing.

Kalie swallowed.

“His Supreme Highness is here to see you, Princess.”

Her stomach flipped as she set the tray on a stand beside her hospital bed. She shouldn’t have eaten so fast. She was going to be sick.

The guards parted, revealing a familiar face.

His mustache and beard aged him beyond his twenty-one cycles.

Aside from his icy eyes, her eldest brother was the spitting image of Father.

He even carried himself the same way. They shared a name, a penchant for immaculate clothing, the imperious tilt of their chins?—

“You’re looking disheveled,” Theron said, leaning against the doorframe.

—and a maddening sense of superiority. Burying her pride, Kalie shifted the pile of silk blankets aside, rose to her aching feet, and curtsied.

“It’s good to see you, Your Highness.”