It was the path not taken. The life not lived. When Di had pushed that lightsword through her stomach, she could have faded away. She had died in the kingdom’s eyes. All her threads had been severed, her obligations cut. She could have been whoever she wanted. She could have been a girl of the stars—a nameless ghost on a ship of black and chrome. There could have been stories about her, or no stories at all.

But the thought had never crossed her mind. Not once.

Was that a testament to her character or her stubbornness? The more she thought about it, the less she was sure of anything. Other people would surely have stepped up to defeat the Great Dark. Other people might have succeeded far quicker and lost far less. Perhaps she never gave up because of Di, because she loved Di more than her heart could hold, but . . .

But there was another reason, needling in the back of her thoughts—

Because she did not know how not to try. She could have flown away, she could have turned her back, but every particle of stardust inside her would have rebelled until she had come back.

And that made her feel a little better.

Ana followed Robb and his brother up the stairs to the underbelly of the garden, where irrigation pipes hummed in the ceiling, rattling with the rush of water to all the different areas of the garden. It all looked the same, from the darkened hallways to the kitchen teeming with waiters and waitresses.

Robb took out his holo-pad and pulled up the Resonance files again. “It should be in the garden,” he said, tugging at the collar of his too-tight uniform. “I don’t see any Messiers. . . .”

“So Mellifare doesn’t know yet,” Ana finished.

“Are you coming up with me or staying down here?” called Erik ahead of them. He tugged at his cuff links, looking bored and unhappy. “I hardly need a bodyguard for—what are you doing?”

Robb unbuttoned his jacket and pulled it off to reveal a smock coat underneath, the color of crushed marigolds, and tossed the uniform jacket to Ana. He retied his white ascot and tucked it in again. “What, did you really think you’d go up there alone?”

“You are disowned—”

“I’m not going as a Valerio,” he corrected.

“Then what are you?”

“Who, actually.” Robb tapped the crest on his lapel. Ana had seen the crest a few times before, in passing at the palace. Her eyebrows knit together. It was the late Grand Duchess’s crest.

Erik’s face pinched. “Aragon. There aren’t any family left. The old dame was murdered and her daughter went missing. How do you have that crest?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Fine—it doesn’t matter, you’ll always be filth.”

“And you’re still as pleasant as ever,” Robb replied, but Ana couldn’t pry her eyes from the raven crest pinned to his coat. Because she remembered it from somewhere else entirely—in her captain’s study. “Well, we shouldn’t keep the public waiting,” he added, and hugged her tightly. “Good luck, cousin,” he whispered, so low Erik couldn’t hear, and then departed with his brother up the steps, through the honeysuckle vines, and into the waiting crowd.