Danton ducked his head close enough that his hair brushed Ren’s cheek. “Speaking of our peace with Genal… Do you think we’ll hear new wedding bells soon?” He, too, watched Akeylah’s and Rozalind’s body language.

Ren lifted a brow, amused. “Give them a minute to enjoy themselves first,” she scolded. “Before we turn their relationship into a political gambit.”

Danton laughed. “My apologies.”

She squinted in mock disapproval. “But speaking of politics. Akeylah would like me to accompany you out east to distribute the money. So we can make sure it goes where it’s needed most.” In truth, Ren had volunteered. But Akeylah had seen by her expression just how much Ren needed to start righting her wrongs, in whatever way she could.

“A wise move,” Danton said. “Monetary support from the crown should help quell any latent rebel support. Though I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if Akeylah’s coronation alone quiets the rebellion. She’s one of us, after all. At least partly.”

“It’s a whole new world,” Ren murmured.

Danton slipped his hand into hers. Tentative at first, until she squeezed his hand in return. “May we learn from our history.” Danton bent to kiss her temple. “So we need never repeat it.”

33

Akeylah

The sky gardens looked like they did the night of the first Blood Ceremony, way back when Akeylah had first arrived in Kolonya City.

A platform had been erected in the central courtyard. Acolytes stood in straight-backed rows across it. Between them were the holy instruments of Father Sun. The Sun sword, an immense steel broadsword King Ilian had ridden into battle with, four centuries ago at the birth of Kolonya. And the formal throne, which servants had carried up from the receiving hall where it normally resided.

Akeylah had never seen it in person before. It looked even more intimidating than in the paintings. Its blinding golden surface had been sculpted to look like Father Sun himself, with spurts of flame like the vast tentacles of some sea monster, and diamonds pocking its surface.

Akeylah could not tear her gaze from it.

Only one item was missing—the crown.

All across the gardens, nobles milled. They exclaimed whenever the criers announced a new arrival, pointed and whispered about the new gowns and tuxedos nobles sported. Everyone had worn their finest to meet their new queen.

Akeylah remembered the first night she’d stood on this dais, and she had to bite back a smile. She’d been entirely out of place, dressed in an outdated gown she stole from her mother’s dressing trunk.

Now, at least she looked the part.