Amja smiled, squeezing Saxony’s hands. “I’m saying that you already are. You have been acting as one since you arrived in the forest and I have stupidly been getting in the way of that.”

When Saxony breathed next, it was like all of the tension in her relaxed.

This felt right, like it had felt when she spun spells by Wesley’s side to take down that tornado. Becoming Liege was Malik’s destiny, and then they thought it was Zekia’s, but maybe it was nobody’s fate at all. Maybe it was something you had to earn, or something you discovered inside of yourself.

Maybe that was why their Kin had been cursed for so many years; they weren’t waiting for Zekia to fulfil her destiny. They were waiting for the right person to decide their destiny for themselves.

And Saxony had decided a long time ago that this was what she wanted. She just hadn’t expected everyone else to want it too.

THE WALLS of the garden trees cast shadows on the winter-dulled grass as they gathered their army in the large courtyard at the back of the estate. One hundred and fifty Crafters and nearly a hundred buskers all crowded around Saxony, Tavia, and Wesley.

They waited for the news.

It hadn’t been Saxony’s idea to round them up, but Wesley thought it would boost morale to let them know about her new position as Liege. The Crafters already trust you, he’d said. And the buskers know you well, so it could help to unite them.

“We’ve called you here to let you know about a change of leadership,” Saxony said. “I’ll be taking over as Liege of the Rishiyat Kin and will be in charge of overseeing all the Crafters in our army from now on.”

She waited for anyone to protest, but the Crafters seemed pleased by the decision, most looking like it hadn’t made much of an impact at all. As though Saxony was just confirming what they already knew and wanted.

“How does that affect us?” a busker called from the crowd. “Just another Crafter asserting her authority while we all get picked off one by one.”

“Nobody is getting picked off,” Saxony said.

“Says you!” he yelled. “The Crafters attacked us back in the forest and we lost some good people.”

“Good people is a bit of a stretch,” Lionus—the Liege from Gila who had attacked Tavia—said. “And let’s not forget that there were buskers in that raid too. None of you can be trusted to stay loyal.”

“Bite me,” the busker said.

The crowd around him cheered.

Saxony could feel their anger growing.

“We’ve lost so much more than any of the Crafters,” another busker chimed in. “Our underbosses were all slaughtered. If they’re electing new leaders, then we should too.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tavia muttered.