Page 65 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)

Every legionnaire in the hall snapped to attention, raising their sleek black pulsers.

The blood drained from Kalie’s face at the sheer number of them.

In the alcove of every tall, arched window stood a legionnaire; beneath every colossal Azurian tapestry stood a legionnaire; in front of every gilded exit stood a legionnaire.

“Then I would remind you this is Dalian soil.” Iliana made a motion, and Azurian guards whipped out their pulsers. Kalie’s jaw dropped—there were two of them to every legionnaire. “I do not take lightly to encroachments on my sovereign authority.”

Kalie wasn’t breathing. The air was so tense that a pin dropping would turn the ancient throne room into a minefield of lasers.

The soldiers were statues, with their jaws clenched and their fingers resting on their triggers.

Iliana sat ramrod straight on the throne, but she made no move to run or relent.

Beside her, Selene shrank back. Her eyes scampered from one soldier to the next.

If they slaughtered each other, she could run, but Ariah wouldn’t be free unless Iliana’s deal held. So Kalie waited, listening to her thumping pulse.

“Alright,” Carik said. The pulsers stayed aloft in iron grips, but the tingle of anticipation in the air dulled. “I’ll hand the clone over to the Dalian envoys you sent here. They’ll be on the next ship off Oeksa. Once they deliver her into your custody, you can do with her as you wish. ”

“You’ll free her,” Kalie demanded.

Carik turned and raised his brows, as if he’d forgotten she could speak.

Iliana nodded. “Of course.” Kalie searched for any tells, any signs of a lie, but found earnest agreement in Iliana’s open arms and unwavering eye contact. “I’ll personally ensure she gets the best medical care, at my expense. I promise you, she won’t be harmed at my court.”

“How touching.” Carik’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Yes, the little clone will be returned. Ingenious bit of science there, by the way. One of my advisors was most interested in how you managed to replicate yourself—was it cloning or gene editing? But that’s beside the point.

” He leaned back into his chair, propping his chin on his hand.

“I suppose I’ll allow the common troops to scamper back home.

They can lick their wounds with heavy fines instead of execution, but the ringleaders can’t be spared.

Surely you understand. If sparks of rebellion are allowed to fester, they’ll grow into an inferno and jeopardize our stability. ”

“No.”

Trembling, Kalie rose to her feet. Faces flashed through her mind—Mother, Father, Gar and Akron, Arrosa and Poltrun, Julian and Nadar, who’d risked so much to fight for her people.

Selene, too, had paled.

“You have me,” Kalie said, as her voice shook. “Make an example of me, execute me, I don’t care. My family is destroyed; they’re done fighting. My allies won’t risk another rebellion. There’s no need to kill them.”

Carik’s lip curled. “You don’t dictate the decisions here, Princessa.”

“Perhaps Kalista is right, Prime Minister.” Iliana clasped her hands, the picture of royal dignity. “My sister and her child died under… suspicious circumstances, and a rebellion rose against you?—”

“Based on unfounded allegations,” Carik seethed. “I had no role in the death of the Duchissa.”

“Of course.” Iliana’s snide voice suggested she thought otherwise. “ But if you were to publicly execute Kalista’s allies, you would face a… how did you put it? An inferno of rebellion.”

Ignoring her, Carik peered at Kalie. “Have you ever heard the story of how my family died, Princessa? Did you ever hear how my father, a paragon of democracy, was slaughtered by rebels on the steps of his own capital building? Or how they came for my wife and sister and gutted them like animals, because my father had been too soft to crack down on dissidents before?”

Kalie scoffed. “If you expect me to feel sorry for you after you murdered my family, you’re denser than I thought.”

“I’m not sure how many times I have to say it before you stop trying to cover up your crimes by blaming me, but I played no role in your family’s deaths.

” Flapping his hand, Carik sighed. “I care not a whit for your sympathy, only for you to understand. When your people were left to their own devices, they tried to kill you too, did they not? It is the natural order of things for anarchy and rebellion to exist in the absence of a firm rule. Your death will be for a higher cause, Princessa. Perhaps the Duchissa is right, and executing your rabble-rousing allies would be too dangerous. Ah, well. It is of no concern to you, now.”

Kalie clenched her jaw. For Ariah, for Ariah , sang her mantra. She couldn’t retort or do anything to jeopardize this trade. Instead of looking at Carik’s smug face, she stared at a glowing mosaic of Queen Azura that hung over the throne, smiling down at her.

“One last thing, Prime Minister, before you go,” Iliana called. “I want your assurances that her death will be quick.”

In the corner of her vision, Selene flinched.

“You ask for a lot, Duchissa.”

“I’ve given you a lot. I don’t want to deal with the public outcry that a long, drawn-out death would cause.”

Carik muttered something unflattering and promised the execution would be swift.

It was odd, hearing that, as if he was talking about someone else, as if the living, breathing, moving body that they would cut down on the steps of the Oeksan Senate wasn’t hers, as if everything that defined her wouldn’t cease to exist the moment the blade or blast or poison severed her soul from her body .

“I’ll see you soon, Kalista.”

She shivered as Carik’s holo vanished.

Legionnaires wrenched her arms behind her back, straining her joints, but she kept staring at the goddess’s glowing mosaic.

Shackles tightened around her wrists. As hands shoved against her back, forcing her to march out of the throne room that should’ve been hers, she spared a brief glance for Selene, who was hunched over her knees with her chin hanging low.

There were a million things she wanted to say—curses, recriminations, how could you and how dare you —but Selene didn’t deserve another moment of her limited time. Clenching her jaw, she raised her eyes to Azura.

“A moment,” Iliana called, and the legionnaires stopped.

She could feel their hesitation in their uneven breaths, their slackening grips on her arms. They released her, and she shifted her gaze to her aunt.

“I want to thank you for putting our people first. I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I think you’re very brave, Kalista,” Iliana said, “and in another life, you would’ve been an excellent leader. I wish I could’ve done more to spare you from pain.”

“I don’t care about the pain,” Kalie lied, wishing her stomach didn’t turn at the grotesque image of Ariah and the knowledge that she could end up like that, if Carik chose not to grant her a quick death. “I just want my friends to be spared.”

Iliana gave her a feeble smile. “An admirable instinct.”

She bit her lip. She was going to die anyway. There wasn’t any harm in asking. “What about our uncle?”

“Jerran? I will never forgive him for what he did to me,” Iliana spat, as her face darkened.

“I’ll free your spy, I’ll spare Ryker and Stone and the other traitors, but our uncle will rot in the same cell he trapped me in.

And when he dies, I’ll pray every day that Zagan is roasting him over a spit in hell. ”

Kalie blinked away stinging tears. She’d already won far more than she’d expected from this bargain. Uncle Jerran had been lost to her since the day of the coronation, and she couldn’t haul him out of the grave he’d dug for himself .

“I pray you find forgiveness,” Kalie murmured, “so you go to Azura without regrets.”

Iliana slumped forward, resting her bony elbows on her knees. “Some things can’t be forgiven.”

The words were so soft that they barely reached Kalie, but despite the stretch of stairs spanning between them and the distance of the vaulted hall, the words rang clearly in her head.

As she glanced at Selene, she clenched her teeth.

Iliana was right. There were some things which could never be forgiven.

Slowly, Selene raised her head.

Their eyes met.

Their eyes. Eyes they shared.

We’re sisters , she wanted to scream. How could you?

Before she could decide whether to speak, rough hands gripped her arms, and heaviness settled on Kalie’s chest. Her time was up. She wrenched her gaze away from Selene, turned her back on the mosaic of Azura, and faced the towering doors. The legionnaires guided her down the silk carpet.

A soft gasp, impossibly loud in the silence, then— “I’m sorry.”

Kalie stopped in her tracks, blinking at the carpet. Sorry… Selene was sorry ? Her nails pierced her stinging palms. She would never see her friends again. The words she needed to say to her family—to Zane—would die with her. And Selene was sorry, was she?

She glanced over her shoulder, wishing she could strike Selene dead with the force of her glare. But Selene wasn’t looking at her—with a swish of cerulean fabric, she fled through a side exit.

Despite her words about forgiveness, she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to forgive her. She didn’t have a lot of time left to decide.

Dalian guards hauled the gilded doors open, bowing their heads in a gesture of respect. Kalie’s heart leapt into her throat.

Her pulse kicked into overdrive, her eyes widened, and she gasped, “No.” She blinked, praying to Azura and the whole court of gods to change the nightmare that loomed before her.

But in the entrance to the hall, with Dalian guards flanking him and his hands bound, stood Zane.