He held up a small mirror for Nor, earning another good mark for himself. She scrutinized her reflection carefully. The artist was talented, but even he couldn’t conceal the stress that added a certain darkness to Nor’s expression. Her lips, rouged as always, were beautiful, but she held them in a frown, and she could still faintly see the bite marks she’d created in her sleep. Her eyes, normally vibrant as the stars, looked dimmer than they had in months past. But her hair, thank the Godstars, hadn’t been affected by the stress. It was perfectly curled beneath a crown made of deepest crimson, bits of gold embedded below its sharp points.

“Beautiful,” Nor said, tilting her head this way and that. “Thank you, Tober.”

The man bowed and backed away behind the bright lights. Zahn stepped back as well, allowing Nor to stand from her chair.

“Beautiful indeed,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Nor felt herself glowing in the light of the appreciative look in his eyes as he smiled at her once more before joining Tober.

Nor busied herself with sweeping the wrinkles from the front of her gown as Darai joined her. “The Unaffecteds will bow in fear soon enough,” he said. “Just say the lines we practiced.”

Nor felt a flash of irritation. “I have done this before, Uncle.”

“Back on Xen Ptera, yes. But not like this. Not as the True Queen, wearing her rightful crown,” Darai replied.

Nor smiled with satisfaction, turning toward the screen the newscaster droids had erected so that she could watch herself in real time. That rightful crown glinted atop her head in the bright spotlights, shining like a beacon that would inspire every mind across the galaxy.

“Ready, my dear?” Darai asked. He shuffled away at her nod of dismissal, joining the others behind the lights.

Nor took a deep breath and clasped her hands together in front of her. She stood tall, the crown heavy atop her curls, the weight of it like a promise.

She would not bow to anyone. But everyone would bow to her.

“Cameras rolling in 3...2...1...”

Nor looked ahead at the camera drones bobbing in front of her and began her speech.

“People of Mirabel.” Her voice was steady. Hypnotic, in the way she’d learned to speak to draw their attention. The way her mother had spoken, years ago. It was one of the few memories Nor still had of her—Klaren’s voice carrying out like a melody, beckoning all to join her tune.