CASSIA NEED ONLY SLIP into the Summit and take a seat among the least important. It should not be difficult,
should it? Not as grueling as kneeling before the entire court at Caelum’s temple day festival with the
king looking directly at her.
Cassia led her little retinue of one liegehound and one chandler’s daughter-turned-handmaiden on
a circuitous route through the palace. Perita said nothing in the presence of listening ears, but her
expression spoke for her. She was subjecting Cassia to a thorough scolding for taking the long way.
Cassia wound around to one of the side doors that let out into the main courtyard. They made it out the
front gate and headed toward the Summit pavilion.
She wished the present would fade into a blur like the moments after she had received the
summons. She couldn’t even remember whether she had put on the new bronze dress or her old court
gown that was barely blue and almost gray. She glanced down at herself. The torchlight told her it
was the blue. Gray. No matter. Panic made all her senses sharper than ever. Her gaze fixed on the tiny
braids of thread that decorated her belt. She could see every single one that had pulled loose from the
worn embroidery.
The walk across the damp grass felt impossibly long, the cool moisture in the drizzly air very far
away from her sweating body. The Summit pavilion loomed closer, and her head began to throb.
Through the glimmer of the mage ward, she could make out the attendees. The crowd was not nearly
large enough to make a silent bastard daughter sitting at the edge of their exalted company feel
concealed.
The king was already there. So were the Hesperines.
Walking through the mage ward felt like taking a bath in a tub full of sewing pins. Cassia emerged
on the other side with a shudder, fighting to keep her hands at her sides instead of clawing at the
pricking sensation on her skin.
One small mercy was that heralds never announced bastards.
“Lady Cassia Basilis,” cried the herald.
Every pair of eyes in the pavilion stared at her. She froze like a senseless rabbit before the hounds.
She could not make herself move. Terror robbed her of control over her own limbs.
The sight of the men blurred before her until she confronted an army of colorless, nameless faces.
Somewhere in that haze, seven pairs of brilliant eyes reflected the torchlight at her and watched her
humiliation. The Hesperines could smell her sweat. Through the Blood Union, they could feel her
weakness.
She saw herself turn away, grab her skirts in both hands and flee for the shelter of the trees beyond
the green.
She could not flee. The king had commanded her to be here. He was watching. Waiting for her to
take her seat. To obey.
It had never taken so much effort to turn her body and bend her knees. As she gave her curtsy
toward the throne, her legs threatened to buckle. She straightened too fast and turned toward her seat,
and the green rotated around her.
She put one foot ahead of her. The ground did not slip from under her. Yet. Every step took her
closer to the chair he had allotted her. Each one was an act of submission.
She trembled inside with something that was not panic. Something more than fear filled her with a
heat that was not of her body.
Her chair loomed at the very end of the very back row. She sat down hard on the unpadded
wooden seat. It felt dreadfully familiar. To Cassia’s horror, she felt the urge to curse, cry out...or sob.
Perita took the chair next to her and eased it back in the grass, positioning herself slightly behind.
Cassia’s vision cleared enough that she realized her handmaiden now directed that scolding gaze on
everyone around them, as if daring them. A strange feeling came over Cassia at the knowledge that
someone from her own tiny world within the walls of her chambers was here at her back.
And Knight was by her side. She murmured a command to him, and he seated himself at attention.
All his training for ceremonial occasions came to the fore. But his tail flopped over her feet, and for
the first time that night she felt sure she would not vomit, if only because she did not want to soil his
fur. She made herself lift her chin and look up.
Lord Titus began to speak, and finally, thankfully, the hostile faces and beautiful gazes turned away
from Cassia.
Over the throbbing in her ears, she gathered that Lord Titus welcomed everyone to another thrilling
night of winning honor and making history through useless and disastrous negotiations. She tried to
focus. She had to listen. She was sitting in this foreign battlefield unarmed, and words were all she
could reach for.
Lord Titus bowed toward the Hesperine delegation, which sat hemmed in by his own faction on
one side and Lord Hadrian’s on the other, right across the table from the royal dais. At last, the royal
spokesman took his seat.
With the other mortals, Cassia pinned her gaze on the Hesperines. Not Lio. All of them. It meant
she did not have to look at the king.
When Lio rose from his chair, Cassia nearly startled. Under the concealing fur of Knight’s tail, she
dug her toes into the ground. She must not give any sign this particular Hesperine meant anything to
her.
Lio turned to face her and offered her a bow. “We the embassy, on behalf of our beloved Queens of
Orthros, offer our heartfelt welcome to Lady Cassia.”
She glared into his brilliant blue eyes. Curse him, curse him, what was he thinking? Was he
begging for disaster?
He faced the free lords with a smile. “So too do we give thanks and respect to our honored host
for this opportunity to resolve our regrettable differences. We rejoice to see that tonight, the Summit
has taken yet another step toward adherence to the traditions we all cherish.”
Such artful words from both sides. Did no one realize to what degree the king tolerated the
Hesperines, the free lords, and the world at large by bothering with this verbosity and ceremony?
This was not his way.
Cassia could still hear his blunt, ugly words that had once decided a much different negotiation on
a long-ago night. She could see, instead of the colorful awnings of the Summit pavilion, the mud-
smeared walls of a tent. She could feel a different chair creaking beneath her, but oh, how much the
same it had felt. How difficult it was, then and now, to sit still and quiet.
No, no. She could not allow this. She must maintain control.
She must see and hear and feel what was before her, not what had been. She must not permit this...
this force inside her, whatever it was...to rise and burst out as her tears had that night.
Lio spoke again, reminding her. This was not that negotiation or that tent, although she was still
that girl. The ones who brought terms before the king now were not those who had destroyed her
world. These were Hesperines, the only ones who had tried to put it back together.
She was listening not to a traitorous free lord’s messenger, but to Lio. The same voice that talked
and laughed with her in the secret darkness was now speaking with eloquence and maturity,
delivering the words his people had delegated to him, surely a great honor.
“Once again His Majesty shows bold and decisive leadership in his commitment to a true
restoration of the Equinox Summit, according to the terms that have withstood the test of time. We
appreciate the significance of His Majesty’s decision, and we look forward to pledging our own
commitment to the traditions of Tenebra and Orthros, when we swear the Equinox Oath with everyone
of Lucis Basileus’s blood.”
Cassia bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from making a sound.
She understood the king. Lucis had no reason to want her at the Summit. Except to oblige his
guests.
It was the Hesperines who desired her presence. Suddenly, inexplicably, though they had taken no
notice of her absence all this time. Someone had convinced them they should want her here.
It was Lio. He was the one who had broken the fragile rhythm of her days beyond repair.
The emotion within her that was trying to emerge—she recognized it. She never let it in. It was far
too dangerous. But it had come. Anger.