on the Ruttin’ Hell when we thought we’d finally gotten it right. I look in his eyes now, and as always, I know what he’s thinking. The hesitation is gone. No more second-guessing. No more fear of his own violence.
He’s every inch his mother’s son now, and if his hands were around my neck, he’d squeeze.
EPILOGUE
IT TAKES TWO weeks to fashion the crown. The original diadems my father and mother wore were taken along with them when the empire fell. They sit at the heart of the Umber citadel, balanced carefully on top of my parents’ skulls. A display for the system governors, planetary governors, and any other members of the imperial court who might need reminding of what the Umber Empire does to those who stand in its way.
But they’re just metal and stone, and that’s nothing against the authority of my blood. The resurgence of the Archon Empire demands a fresh start anyway. I issue the order, and the crafters get to work.
* * *
—
It’s strange to see Trost and think of it as home instead of hell. From the academy head’s former office, the spires glitter in the late-afternoon sun brightly enough that I have to squint. The expanse of the prairie around us is dotted with pale green, new growth breaking through as winter’s hold loosens and spring shrugs off its grip. I take an extra moment to relish the sight and the swell in my chest that accompanies it, then turn back to the desk.
General Iral sits on the other side, his mouth set in a firm line as he scrolls through today’s reports. It’s overwhelming work, coalescing Rana’s resources and strengthening its defenses. Iral has learned well from his failures to establish supply lines, and with the Umber infrastructure that’s been installed over the past seven years, we have advantages we never could have mustered last time. But we also have to gain the trust of our people again, trust that’s been whittled away by years of Umber propaganda telling them they’re better off under their new empire’s thumb. This whole fight is for nothing if our people start starving the second the Umber yoke lifts.
And the war isn’t waiting. Already our instruments are detecting imperial dreadnoughts skimming the outer edges of our system. Colonel Esperza works fast to capture and turn them. Our fleet is growing steadily, but not quickly enough.
“We can’t afford to stagnate in our first victory,” Iral warns as I settle onto the edge of the head’s cushy chair. I don’t dare sink back into it. I can’t afford to look soft. Can’t be seen enjoying any of the luxuries I’m technically entitled to. I still dress as a soldier, though I’m not sure how much longer that’ll fly once I’m crowned.
“I’m aware,” I reply. “How’s the scouting around Imre?”
Wordlessly he hands me the datapad. Dread bleeds into my bloodstream as I read. Berr sys-Tosa has reined in his resources and made the inner world his fortress. He knows that this revolution won’t be considered a success until we hold the entire system, and he’s determined to make it as difficult as possible. A little cut on my palm is nowhere near what it’ll take to establish my bloodright after years of Umber domination.
We need to crush him, and we need to do it fast.
When I look up from the reports, Iral steeples his fingers. “The Corinthians are wary. The emprex expected to collaborate with us to establish a more democratic power structure, and they’re concerned about the ideas of leadership seven years of Umber rule have impressed on you. And with fears of Umber retaliation also in play, they aren’t supporting us further until we have Tosa System completely secured. The emprex has made it clear we’re on our own until we prove that we can restore the interior.”
“That could take months.”
“Not necessarily.” The general watches me closely as I straighten a fraction. Iral plays the noble warrior, trying to atone for his faults and failures, but I haven’t forgotten the breathless seconds it took for him to kneel. He’s looking for an opportunity to establish himself as the real power here.
So I’m watching him closely