to the foundations of every empire. No higher bloodright exists that could overwrite it through marriage, and he has no other true name to adopt. For as long as he lives, no matter whether he takes his throne or not, his name is Gal emp-Umber.
And Gal emp-Umber stands to inherit the empire that crushed us.
That crushed me.
Stashed away in the bottom of my drawer, there’s a little velvet bag I’ve never been able to let go of. Inside is the last memento I have left of my parents. And now that I know who Gal is, an ember has ignited inside me, reminding me why I’ve kept it all these years.
* * *
—
“Cadet Nassun,” a sharp voice snaps.
I come back to myself all at once, my chin jerking up toward the sound as I break eye contact with my own reflection. The academy head stares down at me over his large nose, at once imperious and strangely nonthreatening. It’s always been difficult for me to take this reedy man’s rank seriously, and today his nervous energy is making it exceptionally hard. The head has never liked me—never liked the fact that an Archon kid plucked off the streets has risen to the top of a year chock-full of well-fed, well-educated Umber kids. If there was talk of slapping a brass medal on my chest for the valor I showed yesterday, there’s no doubt he shut it down.
The fluorescents overhead wash the interrogation room in a sickly, pale light. Ten people are packed in here, all higher-ups in the academy’s administration. I’ve already told them every detail of the attack I can recall. They’ve looked over my history ten times, trying to figure out if I carry any loyalty to the former empire. Outside this room, there’s a long line of Archon-born students waiting for their turn to be scrutinized.
The academy head clears his throat and taps the datapad in front of me. “We need your print to verify—”
“Where’s Gal?” My tone veers on petulant, but I don’t particularly care. My actions yesterday have granted me a certain sort of immunity in the eyes of the administration. They even know that Seely approached me beforehand, but after what I did to save Gal’s life, there’s no way they can spin that into an accusation.
The head’s lips curl. “The prince is safe. That’s all the information your clearance allows.”
I don’t trust his tone. I don’t trust his intentions. I’ve never trusted much, but I thought I’d been getting better in the past two years. In the time since I met Gal.
Now I’m back where I started, the world upside down and nothing certain beyond the truths I know inside myself.
I glance down at the datapad. Not at the open circle on its screen, waiting for my print as a signature at the foot of the repetitive statement I’ve given, but at the clock in the upper right-hand corner. It’s been nearly a full day since they took Gal away. My head spins with calculations—the distance from the Imperial Seat to here, the amount of time it would take a ship to reach Rana from the inner worlds of the Tosa System, the probability of Gal doing something rash or stupid in the time between now and then.
“Cadet Nassun,” the academy head warns again.
I press my fingers to the screen.
* * *
—
“Ettian. Hey. EttianEttianEttian.” A hand comes down hard on my back, startling me so badly that I snap upright and jolt the entire table. The noise barely registers in the clamor of the mess, which feels ten times more crowded than usual with all of the gossip rumbling through it. I glance up to find Hanji throwing herself and an overstuffed tray of cafeteria slop down beside me. Before I can get a word in, Rin slides up on my other side, Ollins straddles the bench across from me, and Rhodes shoves Ollins forward to make enough room for himself.
This is how it all breaks down. Ollins Cordello is the kind of guy who keeps a secret stash of fireworks tucked where most cadets hide far more unmentionable things. If