away, or forcing them into increasingly more extravagant costumes.
I wonder what she has in store for me. Again, my heart thuds. I haven’t had much cause for beauty in the last few months. I suppose I should make an effort for such an important gathering, and look the part of the hero everyone thinks I am.
And if it makes Cal blush, all the better.
“Gisa will help, right?” Kilorn mutters apprehensively glancing in my sister’s direction.
“You should get in line.”
TWO
Cal
It’s just past sunset in the mountains; the snowy peaks are still painted blood red. A fitting color for this place. I watch through the jet window as we fly in, weaving toward the now-familiar valley outside Ascendant. As one of the representatives going between the Nortan States and the Republic, I feel like I’ve done this a thousand times. There’s always a great deal of movement within the alliance, and Montfort is always at its center. I’ve been back and forth so much by now, enough to know what to expect from approach. The craft rattles, hitting pockets of turbulence over the peaks. It hardly registers. The updrafts of mountain air make the landing bumpy, and I jostle against my buckles when we touch down onto the runway.
Even though we land safely, my heart rate climbs and my hands tremble as I unfasten myself. It takes more willpower than it should not to sprint from the jet.
Nanabel certainly takes her time getting off the craft. She plays up the charade of an old woman, leaning on the seat backs for support as she walks down the aisle. “Can’t imagine how you do this so much, Cal,” she grumbles to me. Her voice is louder than it needs to be, even over the drone of the airjet. “I’m stiff all over.”
I roll my eyes behind her back. It’s all an act—I know firsthand how spry she is. My grandmother is no wilting flower. She just wants to slow me down, keep me from looking overeager. Like a puppy hoping for a treat, she hissed to me when I volunteered to go to the Samos abdication. Not to see Evangeline or Ptolemus, not even really to show my support to royal Silvers making the same choice I did. She knew I thought Mare might be there. And just the chance was enough for me.
But she never showed, to my disappointment.
Don’t be unfair, I tell myself. She had no reason to go to the Rift. She’s had more than her fill of Silvers struggling to give up their crowns.
Uncle Julian is good enough to take Nanabel by the arm, helping her along at a quicker step. She offers a bloodless smile in thanks, clutching at him with strong, lethal hands. He pales under her grasp, knowing exactly how deadly the hands of an oblivion can be.
Thank you, I mouth to him, and he nods in reply.
Julian is excited to be here too, albeit for very different reasons. He enjoys the Republic as only a scholar can, and my uncle is eager to show the country to Sara. She walks in front of him, setting a good pace in quiet determination. Like me, Julian and Sara have ceased wearing house colors. I’m still not used to seeing my uncle in anything but faded gold, or Sara in colors that aren’t red and silver.
Nanabel, of course, keeps to the old tradition. I don’t think she owns anything that isn’t red, orange, or black. Her long silk coat trails as she walks down the jet, displaying explosive red brocade set with chips of black stone. No one would ever know we aren’t royal anymore if they looked in her closet.
And she isn’t the only one to still dress like the old days. Today, the Nortan States delegation has four other Silvers in it, two of them from the High Houses. One is from House Laris, a representative for us as well as the now-returned Rift. Her yellow clothing seems garish in wartime. The other, Cyrus Welle, is a former governor and an old man, run ragged and thin by war. His green robes are clean, but they seem faded. His medallion, a jeweled tree, barely reflects the lights inside the jet as he walks. He catches my glance and offers a smile weaker than his chin. At least he’s here, I remind myself.
The other two Silvers aren’t nobles at all, but selected from the many merchants, craftsmen, career soldiers, and other professionals who volunteered from the lower