said you wouldn’t be speaking . . . ?” I say, my voice trailing off.
“Correct.” Cal crosses his arms over his chest and settles into a stance I know well. He’s battle ready. “We won’t be on the broadcast either. Sends the wrong message.”
His logic isn’t difficult to follow. “Ah. You want the country to see us do this of our own volition. No sword hanging over our heads.” I wince as soon as the words are out of my mouth, and so does Cal. I imagine he’s thinking of the moment a sword cut through his father’s neck. “Sorry, bad turn of phrase.”
He waves me off, though his face pales. “We’re just here for support, mostly,” Cal mutters.
I blink at him, brow furrowed. “For us?” I scoff.
He shakes his head. “For them.” His eyes dart across the throne room, toward the far end, still empty of equipment. A small crowd waits by the windows, packed tightly together like a flock of brightly colored birds. Suddenly I feel like I might vomit, and I search for a familiar silhouette, a panther on her heels. But my mother isn’t with the Silver nobles.
Elane is not so lucky. She draws in a shaking breath when she spots her father.
Jerald Haven speaks quietly with the nobles of the Rift, and a few of old Norta too. None of House Samos that I can see, but I recognize Lord General Laris, an ally of my father’s and the former commander of the Nortan Air Fleet. None of them will look at us. They refuse. They don’t approve of what we’re doing, but they certainly can’t stop us either.
Elane looks away first, her face clear. No blush, no paling cheeks. As far as I know, she hasn’t seen her father in months. They’ve spoken only in a few letters, and those were short, terse, and on Jerald’s end downright insulting. He wanted her to come home, and she always refused. Eventually he stopped asking, and stopped writing.
The sight of him incenses me, knowing how much pain he caused her. As usual, Cal is woefully bad at reading women, and he mistakes my anger. The former king nudges my arm.
“It’s all right. Don’t let them scare you. The same was done to me, when I abdicated,” he says, his voice low and thick. “My grandmother couldn’t speak to me for days.”
I resist the very familiar urge to roll my eyes at Tiberias Calore.
Wren raises an eyebrow. “But she came around?” The hope in her voice is small, and ill advised. I know enough of Anabel Lerolan to understand that.
Cal almost laughs. “Not really, no. She accepts it, though. She doesn’t have a choice. The Burning Crown dies with me, and there will be no other to rebuild the throne I broke.”
Not while you live, I want to say. For such a brilliant military strategist, Cal can be terribly shortsighted. Pretenders will come. They’ll do it here, and they’ll do it in Norta. This won’t be over until long after we are dead.
Someone else might despair of such a notion. But somehow I find comfort in it. I’m choosing to step away because I can. And if someone else comes to claim the crown I throw away, so be it. That isn’t on my shoulders. I’ve done all I can to make sure of that.
“Our people need to see we’re united in this,” Cal murmurs. He still watches the Silvers, eyes alight as if he can burn them away. “That we’re ready to let go of the old world. Together.”
As simple as his platitudes are, I certainly can’t argue with them. Or deny the surge of emotion deep in my chest.
My smile is true and wide. “Yes, we are.”
SIX
Evangeline
I don’t move as my brother gives his speech, which is a little rushed but otherwise perfect, in short, decisive words. He looks straight ahead, unblinking, sitting at a plain desk drawn up before our old steel thrones. I remain at his side, the two of us alone before the broadcast. The rest of the throne room is deathly quiet, watching history unfold before them.
“My name is Ptolemus Escarian Samos, King of the Rift and Lord of House Samos. Son of the late King Volo Samos of the Rift, and Queen Larentia of House Viper. I hereby abdicate the throne of the Kingdom of Rift and renounce any claim I, or my descendants, might have on this country or land. It is my solemn wish that the Kingdom of