She, Zofi, and Ren wore the same fabric, gowns commissioned by Rozalind’s tailor. They were the same verdant shade of green, a peridot that paid tribute to the end of their mourning period. The tailor had skillfully blended mourning green with accents of gold, for the Sun they were here to celebrate.

The tailor had also tweaked the style to suit each of their body types. Zofi’s fit loosely, sleeveless with a short skirt cut to her knees, to allow her easy motion. Ren’s was cut to hug her curves from collarbone to ankle, with slits to display her long legs and high heels—bright gold for the occasion.

As for Akeylah, the tailor had given her sheer sleeves, an allusion to a more Eastern style of dress, but with a Kolonyan twist—an asymmetrical skirt and sheer, plunging back. She loved the way it spoke to both parts of her—Kolonyan and Eastern alike.

She’d imitated that style for her hair, as well. Done the front half up in Eastern braids and left the rest loose and wavy down her back. She’d noticed more than a few ladies pointing and whispering at her tonight, but for once, she hadn’t felt self-conscious. This time, she knew they were murmurs of approval.

Still, when she, Ren, and Zofi stepped up to the center of the dais, Akeylah’s pulse fluttered. Remember, we all agreed.

Even after that first regional council meeting, Akeylah couldn’t shake her doubt. Part of her wished Ren or Zofi could take her place.

“Either of you would be better at this,” she’d told them again and again. “You’re both stronger than I am.”

“It’s not sheer strength Kolonya needs right now,” Zofi had replied.

“Besides, what makes you think you aren’t strong?” Ren had asked. “You lasted longer against Audrina than either of us.”

“Because she saw me as the weak link, the one she could make her puppet.”

“And look how wrong she was.” Zofi had winked.

Still. All those conversations failed to reassure her as she faced down the weight of this responsibility. Queen of Kolonya.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard her father’s words. The best leaders are those who accept the crown as a burden rather than claim it as a prize.

Akeylah tried to reassure herself with that as she followed her sisters onto the dais.

“Hello, everybody,” Zofi’s voice boomed across the rooftop. Everyone quieted at once, like a curtain falling across the crowd. “Thanks for having me back, Kolonya. This time I promise to behave.” Laughter sounded.