“What’s the worthy reward in this case?” Jeran says. “Why does he want it so badly?”

Talin had told us that the Premier was searching for those artifacts because they are a potential energy source. But the Federation has plenty of resources. There has to be another reason. Something deeper, something that has him digging obsessively for these relics.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “But if it’s all that valuable to him, then it can also be his weakness. We have to figure out what he wants with it.”

22

TALIN

The following day, as evening casts purple across the sky, I join Constantine as his carriage heads out of the palace and toward the exhibition building known as the Sun Dial, where he will have a public feast with the crowds of Cardinia.

The main thoroughfares are lit with torches, and red paper hangs from each stall. Music prompts spontaneous dancing in the streets. Ahead looms the massive glass-and-steel structure. The Sun Dial is the same building that had acted as the exhibition hall for the National Fair in Cardinia, the festivity I’d witnessed with Adena and Jeran over a year ago, where the Chief Architect had paraded a train of caged Ghosts in the middle of their transformations. Now the exhibitions have been cleared from the Sun Dial, replaced with an enormous, curved banquet table that follows the arc of the dais in the center of the building’s glass atrium.

Tonight’s banquet is meant for the Karensan people to see their Premier celebrating the solstice festival with them, culminating in dancing and more reveling. Privately, I know it’s meant as a show of Constantine’s strength and popularity, a bribe of free food and drink for the people to see that he’s strong and unafraid of the growing unrest in the city.

As we enter the hall and approach the circular, central dais, I see a memory of myself standing here alongside Adena and Jeran as we watched the cages of the transforming Ghosts being paraded before the public. Back then I’d hidden among the crowd with my fellow Strikers, afraid to be seen. Now I see people ripple away from our procession, their eyes both following my steps and averting in fear. My wings are partially extended, casting a shadow against the ground.

I ball my fists, satisfied to see these Karensans cowering in my presence, angry to allow myself that satisfaction at the monstrosity I’ve become.

Right as the sun dips low against the horizon, dancers in shimmering gold outfits emerge, twirling around the dais in rows. Food stands stretch off in every direction. By the time we reach the center of the atrium, a crowd has gathered around the low barriers put up around the dais, each of them eager to get a glimpse of the Tyrus brothers and the Premier’s Skyhunter.

For once, I’m not dressed in my black Skyhunter uniform, but a set of white-and-gold top and pants wide enough to look like a dress. Circlets adorn my arms. Knives and a sword still hang on my belt. Constantine takes the steps up to his position on the dais, where tables have been set up for the Premier and his entourage.