Page 44 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)

Candles burned in elaborate chandeliers, casting warm orange glows across Kalie’s exposed skin. The walls of the palace groaned, and beyond the open windows, distant crows cawed. She paused by an arched window. In the darkness lurking beyond, yellow eyes snapped open, and she jolted back, gasping.

“Scared of the dark, Your Majesty?”

She whirled on Zane, ready to tear into him if she saw a hint of his exasperating smirk, but he was grinning. She sagged against the windowsill.

“It’s just different.”

Zane hummed, but she had a feeling he hadn’t heard her. His gaze roved over her dress, from the tight bodice to the flowing sleeves to the slits up the skirt.

“Different can be good.” His husky voice made her heart flutter. “You look… good.”

Kalie laughed. He looked pretty good, too, though she didn’t have a clue where he’d found the suit. “ Good is a little underwhelming. You want to try again?”

“Stunning. Ravishing. Should I keep going?”

Heat flooded her cheeks, her neck, her chest. She looked down at the floor, breathing deeply. The scent of burning candles swirled around her, but she caught the faintest whiff of cologne that smelled of pines and the ocean. Her face burned hotter.

A curled lock of hair brushed against her cheek, and she flicked it over her shoulder. “We should go. They’re expecting us at seven. We shouldn’t be late.”

“Right.” Zane’s silver eyes were devouring her. “We wouldn’t want to get distracted.”

She lingered inches from him. Her eyes flitted to his lips, and her breaths came faster, harsher. With an ungodly amount of strength, she tore her gaze away and marched into the darkness looming at the end of the corridor.

She couldn’t fathom why Father had invited him. On Etov, social classes were strictly separated. A soldier would never dine at a table with her Etovian relatives.

Father probably wanted to assess him. Or he had something nasty up his sleeve.

Kalie shivered.

They reached a looming pair of onyx doors that led to Father’s dining room. Pounding their staffs into the ground, Praetorian Guards hauled the doors open.

Mother’s words could not hurt her. Selene’s taunts could not wound her. Resolute, unbreakable. She’d come here to get Mother to talk, and she wouldn’t leave until she got the answers she needed.

Holding her chin high, Kalie stepped into the dark room, cast in shades of burgundy and black. The scent of spiced wine knocked into her, mixing with the odor of smoke wafting off the glowing candles overhead.

In his gilded chair at the head of the table, Father’s looming presence was shrouded in shadows. A spiky gold crown gleamed atop his black hair. Trappings of state embellished his tunic, giving him an air of authority that made her shrink before him .

“The prodigal daughter returns.”

He made no move to stand. She should’ve expected that; he was an Emperor, and even if she was the Duchissa, he wouldn’t have risen when she entered. Still, her cheeks flushed as she curtsied. One more reminder that here, she was nothing.

“Your Majesty.”

“I see you brought your guard,” Selene sneered, from where she lounged at Mother’s left. Duchissa Coriana’s diamond pendant hung around her neck. “Don’t you trust us, sister?”

Kalie clenched her teeth. The seats where Sadini, Danae, and Rian usually sat were empty, leaving her with the four she trusted least. Mother sat stiffly in the chair between Father and Selene. Across from her, at Father’s right hand, Theron studied her through narrowed eyes.

“I invited him here.” As Father clasped his hands, his gold rings glinted in the candlelight. “From what I hear, Guardsman, my daughter owes you her life. Consider the Etovian Empire in your debt. But I wonder, what did you hope to gain?”

Father’s low tone didn’t invite an answer, but Theron’s piercing eyes flicked between her and Zane.

“We have a deal,” she said, before Theron could put any ideas in Father’s head. “I’m going to return his father’s barony when I’m crowned Duchissa.”

“ When you’re crowned Duchissa,” Selene said, as her brows climbed to her hairline.

Kalie drew herself up to full height. “Yes. When I’m crowned Duchissa.”

Father grunted.

Zane pulled out the chair beside Theron, and Kalie lowered herself onto the plush burgundy cushion. As he seated himself beside her, ramrod straight, his eyes hovered on the generous spread of skin revealed by her slit skirt.

She hadn’t come here to flirt, she’d come to get answers, so she brushed the fabric across her thigh and turned to Mother. “We need to talk about what happened. ”

“Let them serve dinner first.” Irritation tinged Father’s voice. “I need more wine to deal with this headache.”

“I don’t.” Mother shot him a glare that would’ve made most men cower. “There are so many stories flying around that I don’t know what to believe. I’d like to hear the truth.”

“The truth.” With a muffled snort, Father raised his jeweled chalice to his lips. “With you, Ashé, truth is never forthcoming.”

Mother’s jaw clenched.

The doors swung open. Servants wheeled in carts with wine and plates of steaming food.

As a trio of men passed out steaming dishes of spiced chicken, a young woman refilled Father’s goblet.

His leering eyes roved over her exposed cleavage before settling on the short skirt of her dress.

Kalie’s lip curled as he ran a hand over the woman’s bottom and made a subtle gesture across the room.

The maid strutted towards Zane.

Kalie’s knuckles turned white on her chalice as she sipped at her wine. Grudgingly, she had to admit it was one of her favorites.

The maid seized Zane’s chalice, but he held up a hand.

“No, thank you.”

A frisson of fear shivered through Kalie as she glanced at her own wine. It tasted normal to her. They didn’t have reason to poison her or slip drugs in her drink, but why else would he pass on alcohol?

She frowned at him.

“I’m trying to quit drinking,” Zane said.

Raising her eyebrows, Kalie relaxed into her chair. She’d never thought she would see the day he turned down a drink.

The pretty maid stroked his arm, fluttering her lashes at him as she held out the tumbler of spiced wine. “Are you sure you don’t want to taste what Etov has to offer?” Her voice was breathy and awful. “You’ll find greater pleasures here than anywhere else in the Federation.”

Kalie’s fists clenched under the table.

The maid angled herself so her cleavage was right before Zane’s face. Lifting his eyes to hers, he ground out, “I’m not interested.”

Shrugging, the woman pranced out the door.

He tried to meet her gaze, but Kalie looked away—only to find Theron’s assessing stare hovering on her. She scowled. It had all been a test, and judging by Theron’s frown, Zane’s rejection of the maid meant he hadn’t passed.

Well, she was done with their tests. It was time for hers.

Ignoring her rumbling stomach and the steaming chicken in front of her, Kalie clasped her hands. “Iliana has taken the Dalian throne.”

Though Father went rigid, Kalie kept her focus on Mother. Her tells were imperceptible—her eyelid twitched, her shoulders tensed—but her eyes gave her away. Masked behind the frigid ice was the same pain she’d glimpsed in Iliana’s gaze.

“You said you want to know the truth, Mother. So do I. A woman claiming to be your half-sister sabotaged my coronation, turned my guards against me, and stole my crown. Uncle Jerran—” Kalie’s breath caught, but she forced herself not to think of him.

“He claimed she was lying, but I could tell he knows her. You do too.”

In the blink of an eye, Mother’s mask was back.

Two decades of experience suggested Mother was already rebuilding her walls, and once that happened, getting anywhere with her would be impossible.

“Don’t try to lie, I see it on your face. Uncle Jerran mentioned your involvement, and I won’t be kept in the dark any longer. Whatever happened between you, I need to know.”

“I don’t want to revisit that chapter of my life,” Mother murmured.

“And I wouldn’t ask, except it’s come back to haunt me.”

Fires cast dancing shadows over the faces of her siblings, who were watching with rapt attention. They wouldn’t do any good. The only one who could get Mother to talk sat at the head of the table, so Kalie faced Father’s imperious stare.

“A phoenix can be reborn once it dies. Iliana may have won at the coronation, but I won’t let a puppet of Carik’s sit on my throne. I already have a spy in my court, I’m already making plans, but charging in blindly would be foolish. I’m not going to fight until I know who I’m facing.”

“You call yourself a phoenix?” Father asked, resting his chin on his steepled hands .

Kalie swallowed. “I’m a Hannover, am I not?”

The ancient chrono on the wall ticked away as she stared at Father. A distant crack of thunder penetrated the weather forcefields, followed by screaming winds that the sound modifiers couldn’t fully erase. The aroma of burning candles wafted up her nose, carrying the scent of cinnamon and cedar.

“Tell her, Ashé.”

Father’s tone brooked no argument. Candlelight flickered across Mother’s drawn face as she sighed, lowering her gaze to her hands.

“What do you want to know?”

“Iliana claims your mother married her father, that she’s a legitimate heir.”

Mother scoffed. “My mother was a whore?—”

“Runs in the family,” Father muttered under his breath.

“—not a romantic,” she went on, as if she hadn’t heard him. Her jaw was tight, though, and her shoulders had tensed. “She may have slept with Iliana’s father, but she never married him.”

“But it’s true. She’s your sister.”

As Mother nodded, Kalie slouched in her chair, rubbing her forehead.

“What else did she say?” Mother asked.

Breathing in the smoke from burning candles, Kalie told them everything. Theron and Father wore expressions of stone, but Selene looked vaguely curious. By the time she got to the end of Iliana’s tale, Mother’s face was pale and taut.

“Is any of it true?”

“Some.”