Antonio Rowan sweeps up from his chair. Bad Maggie’s still fuming, like she’s angry at the whole world, but her pistol’s back on her hip and she’s punishing the back of her chair instead of me. I sheathe my sword as the traitor is escorted out. Daddy nods approvingly at the decision before turning back to a room full of rebels and warlords.

He sets his hat on his head and smiles recklessly.

“Well,” he says. “Who wants to go to war?”

Chapter 3: The Favorite

You hit the replay button again. Stylists are arranging your curls and fussing over your makeup, but you’re too fixated on the screen to care. The Chats lit up this afternoon. Everyone and their mother’s sharing the Alchemist’s video. It’s not hard to understand the obsession. You watch the girl leap from the horse’s back. She vaults through the air like a dancer. The horse vanishes from the ridge and appears beneath her. She sticks the landing, and gods does she look shocked when she does, then grins at the camera like a fool.

It’s not half bad for a Dividian, you think. A glance shows the video’s been watched two million times. A clip of you dancing on the beach last week had double that number, but still, not bad for a Dividian.

“Stage in twenty seconds,” Zeta announces.

You nod, shedding stylists to glide through the backstage labyrinth. You like the quiet darkness, but you like the bright chaos even more. A thousand cameras flash as you take the stage. You brush a dark lock behind your ear because you know Bravos is watching, and he’ll love that little display of calm control. When you flash your commercial smile, the media attendants swoon. Automated applause echoes out from each of the metallic chair mannequins.

Life has readied you for the stage. You know to keep your eyes level, your back straight, and your legs crossed. The designer’s auction only finished an hour before the interview. Seven thousand legions pile into your personal account from some off-brand company just so you’ll wear their jacket during the live feed. It has the most absurd silver loops you’ve ever seen for buttons and a vintage collar. Not really your style, but the video will feed through the Chats and before long you’ll see it featured in storefronts on Promenade Avenue. A little sacrifice for a little pocket change never hurt.

House lights come up and you get your first look at the audience. People are still bidding for seats, so the faces and clothes keep changing inside the vacant, crystal mannequins. Bidding on the front row’s even fiercer than usual. You watch the faces change. Bearded men replaced by bald women, diva stylists outbidding political dignitaries. Everyone wants a taste of you.