CHAPTER TWO

ZANE

I tucked the lunarium jewelry box into my pocket. I adjusted my tailcoat, but the square box was as heavy as a blaster pressing against my heart. I muttered a curse, then left the library, went out the front door, and stepped into the waiting carriage. It too was ice-blue, inside and out, and the enormous round passenger compartment always made me feel like I’d been swallowed alive by an oversize satin pumpkin.

My grandmother was sitting in one side of the carriage, staring out the window, while my father was in the opposite corner, watching a gossipcast on his tablet. Once again, the space between them crackled with tension. I bit back a sigh, slid in next to my father, and thumped my fist on the low ceiling. A second later, the horses plodded forward, and the carriage creaked along the cobblestones.

Dozens of other carriages were also rolling along the Boulevard, right past Promenade Park. Hundreds of people were already picnicking on the park’s rolling lawns, enjoying games, music, and more in honor of the summer solstice, which was a city- and planet-wide holiday.

A few gossipcasters and their videographers had set up their cameras on the edge of the grass and were filming the Regals as we all left our castles for our own solstice celebration. I stuck my head out of the carriage window and waved, catching their attention.

“Woo-hoo! See you at the party!” I called out in a booming, grandiose voice, then added another Woo-hoo! for good measure.

Several of the gossipcasters—women and men alike—tittered and waved back at me. To them, I was a veritable Prince Charming with the perfect Regal life. Right now, I would have much rather been preening for the cameras than stuck in this carriage with my angry, secretive family.

The carriage quickly left the park behind and rolled past Crownpoint, the Imperium palace. Unlike the Regals’ colorful castles with their quirky turrets and fanciful parapets that lined the Boulevard, the palace had a plain, ugly façade of chrome and glass, and its miles-high towers glinted like rows of spears in the bright afternoon sunlight.

My gaze locked on the main tower. Callus Holloway hadn’t messaged me today. He probably thought his silence was punishment, but I welcomed the respite from his constant demands that I find Kyrion and Vesper and his not-so-subtle threats about what would happen to me, and my family, if I failed to deliver the truebonded couple to him—

Ding! The shrill tone I’d assigned to Holloway erupted from my tablet. No respite after all. I sighed, pulled the device out of my pocket, and read the message.

Quit preening for the gossipcasts like an idiot. Have some fucking dignity.

So Holloway was watching the solstice coverage and, therefore, me too. Terrific. On the bright side, he never expected replies, only obedience, so I shoved my tablet back into my pocket.

“Is there a problem?” my father asked in a worried voice.

I shrugged off his concern. “Just Holloway being Holloway. I’m clearly his new favorite. He messages me more than a lovestruck schoolboy.”

My father smiled at my joke, but the expression quickly faded away. Beatrice eyed me a moment, then stared out the window again.

Forty-five minutes later, the carriage zipped through an open gate, entered a spaceport, and crisscrossed several long runways before rolling up the cargo-bay ramp of a massive transport. The driver stopped the carriage in the allotted House Zimmer spot nestled in the middle of dozens of other Regal carriages. Horses whinnied, and the murmuring of voices and the chiming of tablets trilled through the air like a muted symphony. A few Regals leaned out of their windows and gossiped with their neighbors, but everyone remained inside their carriages.

I thumped my head back against the cushion. Even for Regal society, this was grandiose overkill. It would have been so much simpler and easier for everyone to take mechanized transports to the celebration site, but alas, the horse-drawn carriage ride along the Boulevard was one of the summer solstice traditions, although I had no idea what it actually celebrated, other than the Regals’ excessive wealth and obsession with opulence.

Once the horses were tended to and the carriages were locked in place, the thrusters fired up, and the transport lifted off the ground. Beatrice pulled out her tablet to watch the gossipcast coverage, while my father kept studying his device, both still ignoring each other.

I pulled out my own tablet and scrolled through my messages, checking in with all my contacts, as well as some of the other Arrows. Beatrice was an accomplished spy wrangler, with eyes and ears throughout Regal society and out into the galaxy beyond, but over the years, I had built my own network, which was useful for times like these when I wanted information without my grandmother getting wind of it.

Still no confirmed sightings of Vesper and Kyrion, but it was just a matter of time before someone spotted them, especially given the massive bounty Holloway had announced for their capture. I responded to a few messages and read the latest reports from Holloway’s generals about where the couple might have gone, but no one had any concrete information or actionable intelligence.

I shut Vesper and Kyrion out of my mind and focused on another one of my many hard problems: tracking down the Techwave. Over the last several months, the terrorist group had attacked one Regal facility after another across the galaxy, killing workers and stealing all the weapons, tech, and resources they could carry away. But they had been surprisingly quiet in recent weeks, which made me uneasy. The Techwave was no doubt gearing up for another attack, although none of Holloway’s spies had any clue when or where the Techies might strike next.

An hour later, the transport began its descent, and we all put away our tablets. Beatrice and Wendell hadn’t spoken a word to each other the entire ride, and I saw no need to break the tense, angry silence. My grandmother had taught me that Zimmers always put on a happy face in public, and right before a major Regal celebration was no time to instigate family drama.

The transport touched down, the cargo-bay ramp descended, and the carriages were unlocked from their spots. Then the horses circled around and trotted down the ramp. Once again, we crisscrossed several spaceport runways before going through a wide, open gate. This time, instead of cobblestone streets and colorful castles, crushed-shell driveways and quaint cottages stretched out into the Corios countryside.

I stuck my head out the window again. The fresh scent of summer grass tickled my nose, along with the sharp tang of wild onions and the earthy aroma of mud from last night’s heavy rains. Corios was a Temperate planet with four distinct seasons, and thunderstorms often popped up in the hot, humid summer months. Lightning had cracked several branches off the flowering trees, and white, purple, and yellow blossoms were scattered across the roadways like petals a girl had plucked out of a flower basket.

Thirty minutes later, a massive castle appeared in the distance. The wealthier and more prominent Regal families took turns hosting the winter and summer solstice celebrations. Today, Lord Jorge Rojillo of House Rojillo had that honor—and headache.

Castle Rojillo sprawled across the top of a grassy hill that overlooked a man-made lake surrounded by dense coniferous woods. The castle was made of a beautiful pale pink stone that made it gleam like a colorful diamond nestled in the surrounding green, blue, and brown landscape. Every level of the structure featured round windows, fluted columns, and scalloped archways that reminded me of the edges of a seashell. White flags boasting the large stylized, flowering pink R of House Rojillo fluttered atop the castle’s many turrets, along with a lone limp flag bearing a bronze hand on a red background—Callus Holloway’s sigil and a token nod to the Imperium leader.

The horses climbed the hill and stopped in front of the castle. I opened the door and hopped out, not wanting to spend a second longer inside the tension-filled carriage. My father also hopped out, and I helped my grandmother climb down. All around us, other Regals were also arriving, and their chatter droned through the air like a cloud of excited bees, accentuated by the steady crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch of the horses’ hooves through the crushed shells underfoot.

One of my father’s friends called out a greeting, and Wendell waved and headed in that direction without a backward glance. My grandmother’s lips pinched into a tight line again. After a few seconds, she smoothed out her expression and turned to me.

“Remember what we talked about,” she said in a stern voice. “You will be charming and attentive to Lady Asterin at the ball. Then, when the time is right, you will present her with the solstice gift.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I said, tapping my chest where the jewelry box was still nestled inside my coat pocket. “I’ll make all the appropriate remarks about how the necklace is but a mere humble token of my deep affection and will only enhance her own beauty, which needs no adornments to begin with, given how innately glorious she already is.”

Beatrice huffed. “I know you are not fond of Asterin, but her family has important connections, influence, and resources in the Erzton—things House Zimmer might very well need to survive the brewing war with the Techwave.”

Unlike the Imperium, which focused on Regal bloodlines and psionic abilities, or the Techwave, with its rabid devotion to technology and horrific scientific experiments, the Erzton dealt in something much more solid and substantial: minerals, metals, and other raw materials needed to make everything from blasters to spaceships to the ridiculously ornate carriage we had just arrived in.

“What’s wrong?” I asked in a sharp, suspicious voice. “What aren’t you telling me?”

My grandmother gave an airy wave of her hand, making the jeweled rings on her fingers flash like warning lights on a crashing blitzer. “Nothing concrete, darling. Truly. My spies are reporting that the Techwave and our other enemies are quiet for the moment.”

“But?”

“But our old, well-known enemies are usually only quiet right before they strike, and that is what worries me.” Her words echoed my earlier thoughts, and her gaze cut to my father, who was still talking to his friends. “And then, of course, there are always new enemies we must be concerned about. As well as unexpected threats from within our own ranks.”

Was that how my grandmother saw Vesper? As a new enemy? An unexpected threat that might prompt Wendell to turn against her, against House Zimmer?

Because that was not how I saw Vesper.

In the beginning, Vesper Quill had been a mere annoyance, a smartass engineer whose cleverness and doggedness had gotten her embroiled in Rowena Kent’s treasonous plot against the Imperium. Once Vesper had become a Regal, she had been a potential adversary, especially given how cozy she and Kyrion had seemed at the ball held in her honor. Then Holloway had made Vesper a target by ordering me and Adria and Dargan Byrne to capture her. But now that she was a fugitive, now that I knew the truth about our connection . . . Well, Vesper was nothing but a giant problem—and I hated problems.

“Anyway, darling, I must mingle. We’ll talk more later—after you give Asterin the solstice gift.” Beatrice speared me with a pointed look, then glided away to speak to her own friends.

Slowly but surely, all the Regals were heading toward the enormous pink scalloped archway that served as the castle’s main entrance. I tugged on my jacket sleeves, then plastered a sunny smile on my face and strode forward, waving and calling out greetings to everyone, friend and foe alike.

The white crushed-shell driveway narrowed into a wide path that was lined on one side with pink velvet ropes. Dozens of gossipcasters were standing in the cordoned-off section, stretching their microphones and cameras out as far as they could without toppling over the ropes. Many of the Regals ignored the gossipcasters, hurrying right on by them, but it was always better to make allies than enemies, especially with people who would beam my slightest social gaffe across the galaxy with ruthless glee. So I swaggered straight toward the cameras—straight into the heart of the fight—like I always did.

The gossipcasters all perked up at the sight of me heading toward them. “Zane! Lord Zane! How are you feeling? Who are you wearing?”

The usual shouted questions washed over me, and I stopped, put one hand on the hilt of my stormsword, and lifted my chin, striking a haughty pose and letting the cameras soak me up in all my sun-dappled glory.

“I’m feeling marvelous! The summer solstice is one of my favorite celebrations of the social season. You all know that I’m always happy for any excuse to have a good time.”

I gave an exaggerated wink, and several of the gossipcasters laughed. Zane Zimmer was nothing if not charming.

“I, of course, am wearing the fabulous design of Fergus, the exclusive House Zimmer tailor.” I turned left and right, showing off my spiffy new tailcoat.

“Zane! Zane!” another gossipcaster called out. “What are your thoughts on your new shampoo commercial? Galactic Suds for Studs?”

Ah, the shampoo commercial. Three cringeworthy minutes of footage that showed me bare-chested and splashing around in an old-fashioned porcelain tub filled with bubbles, shampoo bottles, and rubber duckies, while I chirped about how clean, fresh, and tingly said shampoo made me feel. I’d shot the commercial a few months ago, and it had started airing the night of the disastrous midnight ball.

The shampoo itself was a wonderful, organic, responsibly sourced product, but the commercial was perhaps the most embarrassing one on my Regal résumé. Still, Galactic Suds had given me a delightful number of credits to hawk their brand, along with a lifetime supply of shampoo, and I was going to give the company their money’s worth.

I raked a hand through my longish blond hair and looked straight into the closest camera. “I’m having a magnificent time working with Galactic Suds for Studs. The name says it all, right?”

I gave another exaggerated wink. More laughter rang out, along with a few snide snickers, but it all washed right off me, just like the shampoo had in the shower earlier. I’d humiliated myself in the past far worse—and for far fewer credits than what Galactic Suds for Studs was paying me.

I strutted along the media line, speaking to one gossipcaster after another, along with all their camerapeople. Hands were shaken, questions were answered, more winks and compliments were doled out. I was almost to the end of the line when a gossipcaster with particularly long arms shoved her microphone forward. I had to jerk back to keep from getting bonked in the nose.

“Zane! Zane!” the gossipcaster called out. “How goes the hunt for Kyrion Caldaren and Vesper Quill?”

We were officially through with the easy, frivolous questions, and the usual gossipy sparring session had just morphed into a full-fledged media battle.

I ground my teeth and forced myself to smile even wider. “I’m hot on their trail. They can run, but they can’t hide, especially not from Zane Zimmer.”

A few laughs sounded, but far more snide snickers rang out this time, and several people rolled their eyes. My arrogant antics might be good for their ratings, but many of the gossipcasters found me as ridiculous as most of the Regals did. But that was okay. Ridiculous people were often underestimated, and I’d buried my sword in more than one enemy’s gut because of their lack of judgment. My pretty face masked the heart of a moon-cold killer.

“What about the other Regals?” the pesky gossipcaster called out again. “Aren’t you worried that they’ll offer shelter and aid to Lord Kyrion?”

I barely restrained myself from rolling my own eyes. Kyrion Caldaren was an aloof, uptight, broody bastard. He didn’t have any friends among the Regals, and the opportunistic lords and ladies would turn him in the second they got the chance to collect the bounty credits and ingratiate themselves with Holloway.

“Of course not,” I replied in a smooth voice. “We all know the Regals’ loyalty lies squarely with Callus Holloway and the Imperium, not with Kyrion Caldaren.”

“Any news on Nerezza Blackwell?” The pesky gossipcaster just kept spewing out annoying, awkward questions. “What about your efforts to track her down?”

Once again, I ground my teeth to hold on to my smile. “Nerezza Blackwell remains a person of interest. She too will be brought back to Corios to face justice for her many crimes against the Imperium, including conspiring with the Techwave.”

During the midnight ball, not only had Vesper revealed that Nerezza was her biological mother, but she’d also claimed that the Regal lady was a double agent, spying on both the Techwave and the Imperium to further her own mysterious agenda. During the chaos and confusion of the throne room fight, Nerezza had slipped out of Crownpoint, emptied out the House Blackwell accounts, and fled Corios in a private space cruiser.

No one had seen or heard from the Regal lady since then, although I knew that Beatrice was greatly worried about what Nerezza might do next—and what she might reveal about her relationship with Wendell, especially the fact that he was Vesper’s father.

In addition to learning more about Vesper, I’d also been researching Nerezza. Even among the Regals, who put a capital R in Ruthless, Nerezza Blackwell was famous—or rather infamous—for being a notorious social climber who flitted from one relationship to another until she got what she wanted out of it.

Everything I’d discovered about her made my skin crawl. Story after story about Nerezza befriending, beguiling, and bewitching some lord, lady, servant, or guard, only to cast them aside the second they were no longer useful. Add in the fact that she’d done the same thing to her own daughter when Vesper was a child . . . Well, Nerezza Blackwell was far more devious, duplicitous, and dangerous than I’d imagined. She was another hard problem I didn’t have a solution to, just like Vesper was.

The gossipcaster sucked in a breath to pepper me with yet more pointed questions, so I picked up my pace. “Sorry, folks. Gotta jet. Don’t want to be late to the party. After all, there are several ladies who haven’t had the pleasure of a dance with yours truly yet this social season.”

I gave them all another exaggerated wink, along with a good-bye wave, then stepped through an archway into a large courtyard that featured a bubbling fountain. All the other Regals had already moved deeper into the castle, so I slid to the side, stopped in the shadows, and unscrewed the smile from my face.

Outside, the gossipcasters milled around, checking their equipment and footage and chatting with one another.

The woman who’d asked me about Kyrion, Vesper, and Nerezza lowered her microphone and shook her head. Her snide voice drifted over to me: “Zane Zimmer, always the arrogant idiot.”

Her cameraman snickered in agreement. “How long do you think ol’ Zane will last as the leader of the Arrows? I put down a hundred credits on one month—or less.”

So there was a betting pool devoted to my expected failure and future execution. Fantastic.

The gossipcaster shrugged. “Depends on how quickly he captures Kyrion Caldaren and Vesper Quill. But if he doesn’t? Not long. Callus Holloway isn’t known for his patience. Sooner or later, he’ll order his Bronze Hand guards to chop Zane’s empty, pretty head right off his pretty shoulders.”

The cameraman snickered again, and the two of them started talking about other things. Their mocking dismissal didn’t anger me, though. I’d worked long and hard to convince everyone that I was an arrogant idiot, just like they had said.

No, the thing that bothered me was they were right. If I didn’t find my wayward sister soon, then my head would be the one on the chopping block.

I let myself brood for a minute, then plastered another smile on my face and stepped out of the shadows. I moved through the open-air courtyard, then two more similar areas, before finally reaching another scalloped archway that led to a massive lawn rolling out from the back of the castle like an emerald carpet.

Castle Rojillo was famous for its pink-star honeysuckles, which boasted blossoms bigger than my hand and perfumed the air with a sweet, delicate scent. Dozens of the dense green bushes ringed the lawn, starting at the castle walls and running all the way down to the man-made lake in the distance. The enormous, oversize bushes stretched up more than twenty feet, and strings of pink bulbs snaked through the tops of the thick branches, along with yellow and white crystals shaped like suns and crescent moons that cast rainbow prisms across the entire lawn.

Solstice games had been set up on one side of the grass, and children ran from one booth to another, smiling and shrieking while they tossed rings around toy planets, shot paint blasters at paper star charts, and smashed plastic models of space cruisers with wooden stormswords to spill out all the candy crammed inside. Other children clustered around the refreshment tables, using their bare hands to snag the colorful sugar bubbles that wafted up out of the dessert fountains and cram the sticky treats into their mouths.

Down at the lake, a few children splashed around in the shallows while parents and lifeguards watched from the relative dryness of a nearby dock. Farther out on the water, several Regals clutched frilly lace parasols and perched in the back of paddleboats being propelled by sweating servants. In the distance, beyond the far edge of the lake, the sun was beginning to set behind the surrounding hills and was streaking the sky in warm, hazy stripes of pink, orange, and yellow.

Summer solstice was the longest day of the year on Corios. It was just after eight, and the sun wouldn’t fully vanish until almost nine o’clock galactic time. Eventually, the children would be put to bed inside the castle, while the adults waltzed around the dance floor that had been erected on the other side of the lawn. The ball would last into the wee hours of the morning, and many of the Regals would stumble to their rooms, high on chembonds and eager to indulge in all their fantasies—whether it was with their spouse, a servant, a guard, or some other convenient lover.

Ding! Another message from Holloway popped up on my tablet. The only reason you’re attending the solstice celebration is to see if any of the Regals are helping Kyrion. Don’t forget that.

As if I could with his charming missives. I huffed at his petty demands and slid my tablet back into my pocket.

A waving motion caught my eye, and I headed over to my father, who was standing near the refreshment tables with Jorge Rojillo, the head of House Rojillo.

“Hello, Zane!” Jorge called out, clapping me on the back.

I smiled at him, my expression genuine for a change. “Hello, Jorge.”

Jorge Rojillo was in his early sixties, roughly the same age as my father, although he was much shorter, with a broad, stocky body. Like all the other Regal men in attendance, he was wearing a formal tailcoat, although his was the pale pink of House Rojillo and studded with flower-shaped gold buttons. Jorge plucked a white handkerchief out of his pocket, pushed back his wavy black hair, and dabbed some sweat off his bronze skin.

Tempered silk might adjust to the body heat of its wearer, along with the environment, but it was simply no match for the summer solstice sun. The hot rays beat down on my head, while the excessive humidity bathed everything in an unpleasant stickiness. Several lords and ladies were firmly ensconced in chairs in front of large box-shaped fans spaced around the lawn that were spewing out cooler air, as well as filtering out the worst of the summer pollen.

“Jorge was telling me about some new temperature-shielding technology he’s been developing,” my father said.

Jorge was a spelltech, someone who was capable of infusing psionic power into weapons and other objects, just like my father. And just like my father, Jorge preferred to spend most of his time in his research-and-development labs and left the Regal politicking up to his wife, Halecia, who was currently deep in conversation with Beatrice.

Jorge gave a modest shrug, although his dark brown eyes gleamed, and a satisfied grin spread across his face. “It’s just a little something new I’ve whipped up. House Rojillo is bidding on the climate-control contracts for Promenade Park, and my latest invention should help put my proposal over the top.”

The Regals liked to control everything, even the weather, when possible, which was why certain sections of Promenade Park were subject to strict climate control. The constant temperatures and set amounts of water, nutrients, and sunlight helped to ensure that many of the park’s trees, bushes, and flowers bloomed all year round, instead of just in the spring.

“What does your new temperature-shielding technology do?” I asked in a polite voice, even as I inwardly groaned.

Jorge’s face lit up the same way my father’s face always did when he was talking about the latest gizmo he’d dreamed up. “Well, right now, the shielding is just a personal device. You strap it to your wrist, and it creates a bubble of air around your body that can be set to your preferred temperature no matter how hot or cold the ambient air is. It’s like wearing your own thermostat. The shielding technology can also do other things, like filter out unwanted odors and repel flies, mosquitos, and other annoying insects. Here. Let me show you the prototype.”

He slid his handkerchief back into his pocket, then pulled up his coat sleeve. A small device with a wide silver band, a small holoscreen, and glittering bits of lunarium and sapphsidian was wrapped around his left wrist like an old-fashioned watch. He tapped on the holoscreen, and the device started purring. A few seconds later, a gust of cool air wafted over me.

Jorge sighed with relief, and some of the redness faded from his cheeks. “As you can see, the device comes in quite handy on hot summer days. Even better, it uses a person’s own motion and kinetic energy to power itself, thus eliminating the need for a solar battery.”

He waved the watch in front of my face. “I’m planning to increase the size and range so that the devices can be wrapped around individual trees and bushes in Promenade Park. That way, we can heat or cool each individual plant, instead of an entire area, which would save the city an enormous amount of energy . . .”

Jorge kept spouting off all the potential uses for and advantages of his new temperature-shielding technology, along with the tweaks he wanted to make to the design, but I tuned out his enthusiastic words. I had never had any sort of mechanical or engineering aptitude, and the only thing I could figure out on a consistent basis was how to kill someone before they killed me. I was wholly unlike my father in that regard, and I supposed my sister too. Vesper probably would have been hanging on Jorge’s every word, idea, and statistic, just like my father was.

I grabbed a frosted glass off the tray of a passing servant and downed the contents. A tart lemonade with bright notes of blood orange exploded on my tongue, but the refreshing drink didn’t wash the bitterness out of my mouth.

“. . . but it’s just a prototype right now.” Jorge finished his loving description and pulled his coat sleeve down, hiding his wristwatch from sight. “I need to run some more tests and simulations before I scale up the prototype and present the device to the park’s board members.”

“Of course,” I murmured politely.

My father asked Jorge a technical question. The two of them started debating the merits of various shielding technologies currently on the market, and I was finally able to slip away from them. I deposited my empty glass on a servant’s tray, then ambled through the crowd, smiling and waving and eavesdropping on every single conversation I could.

The summer solstice might ostensibly be a time for the Regals to relax and celebrate the social season, but it was also a marvelous opportunity to pick up gossip, something my grandmother had trained me to do since birth, all in service to House Zimmer, of course.

“Lady Jane has danced with Lord Austen twice already . . .”

“I hear they’re having an affair . . .”

“Forget about them. I’m much more interested in who Vesper Quill’s father is . . .”

That snippet of conversation drifted over to my ears, making me stop cold. A few feet away, Lady Livia Invidus was holding court in the center of a gaggle of ladies. I sidled in their direction, pretending to have great difficulty deciding which scrumptious treats to snag from the towers of vanilla-glazed tea cakes, sugar-crusted berries, cucumber-dill sandwiches, spice-rubbed cheeses, and other delicacies lining the refreshment tables.

“It must be some servant or guard,” Lady Livia said, continuing her speculation. “Vesper Quill’s father couldn’t possibly be anyone important, anyone who truly matters.”

The other ladies murmured their agreement.

House Invidus was among the least powerful Regal Houses, and it sold spy cameras and other tech similar to that produced by House Zimmer. Bloody copycats, Wendell had called the House Invidus engineers on more than one occasion, since their products were usually cheap knockoffs of his sturdier, more sophisticated designs. I was inclined to agree with my father, but even someone who spent most of their time copying you could still be a dangerous enemy.

“Why do you say that?” Beatrice asked.

My grandmother glided forward into the circle of women, and the other ladies scattered like mammoth butterflies blown away by a stiff summer breeze to make room for her.

Livia Invidus was in her eighties, just like my grandmother, with pale skin and a teased mane of hair that had been dyed the same garish pea green as her dress. She gave Beatrice an indulgent smile, as though she was talking to a small child who hadn’t yet fully grasped the nuances of Regal society.

“We all know what an ambitious climber Nerezza Blackwell is. Surely, if she’d had a child by a prominent Regal lord, she would have revealed the information years ago and used it to her advantage.”

“Mmm.” Beatrice made a noncommittal reply and fiddled with one of her rings.

Livia’s brown eyes narrowed at the telltale motion, and she studied Beatrice a little more closely. “Didn’t Wendell know Nerezza back when she first came to Corios? I seem to remember them dancing together at a ball a time or two.”

Her voice was mild, but her insinuation was sharper than the cake knives on the refreshment tables. A couple of the ladies sucked in startled gasps, and they all stared at Beatrice, looking for the smallest reaction, crack, and chink in her Regal armor.

My grandmother ignored them all, crooked a finger at a passing servant, and plucked a large glass of lemonade off his tray. To anyone else, she probably looked calm and confident, but her fingers clenched around the fluted stem, and her light blue nails dug into the delicate crystal like she was one more innuendo away from snapping it into pieces.

Beatrice took a slow, dainty sip of her lemonade, making everyone wait, then fixed a pleasant smile on her face and focused on Livia. “Wendell danced with many people when he was younger.” She paused and tapped a finger on her lips, as though deep in thought. “As did your son, Charles. Although, if I recall correctly, he was much fonder of your ladies-in-waiting than he ever was of Nerezza.”

More gasps rang out, and everyone swung around to stare at Livia, whose cheeks flamed as red as the glass of strawberry punch she was clutching. Her arm drew back ever so slightly, as though she wanted to chuck the glass at my grandmother’s head.

Beatrice stared right back at her, and after a few seconds, Livia slowly wilted under my grandmother’s cool, steady gaze. Fights between ladies, and lords too, weren’t uncommon at Regal events, but Beatrice was far too wealthy and powerful for anyone to take on in such a direct, uncouth manner as tossing punch in her face.

“But you’re right about one thing,” Beatrice continued in a silky-smooth voice. “Vesper Quill’s father is probably some servant or guard Nerezza dallied with once upon a time. No one important. Just like Vesper herself is no one important.”

She sniffed. “It was so very gauche of Callus Holloway to elevate Vesper Quill to our status in the first place. I don’t know what he was thinking, making a lowly lab rat a Regal lady.”

Several ladies murmured their agreement, but anger and disgust shot through my stomach, curdling the sweet lemonade I’d drunk earlier.

A lab rat was a common nickname for a worker who toiled away in a corporate facility, building blasters and spaceships for their Regal owners. But Vesper was so much more than that, something I’d discovered the hard way. A couple of months ago, I’d mockingly referred to Vesper as Kyrion’s conquest when he and I had been sparring at Castle Caldaren as part of our Arrow training, and she had retaliated by rigging together a couple of blasters and burning my clothes. Then, a few days later, Vesper had killed Julieta Delano, an Arrow traitor who had been secretly working with Rowena Kent.

But Vesper had saved my life—and the lives of countless other Arrows and Imperium soldiers—by exposing Rowena Kent’s scheme to sabotage and crash Imperium ships for the Techwave. She had bloody earned her Regal title, but to my grandmother, Vesper Quill was a living, breathing scandal that would only bring mockery, scorn, and derision down on House Zimmer.

Now that she had put Livia in her place, Beatrice turned to another lady and asked about her grandchildren. More anger and disgust shot through me. Once again, my grandmother was acting as if it was Regal business as usual, and this momentous revelation hadn’t happened and changed the very foundation of our family.

Vesper being my sister was a startling development, to be sure, but ignoring this tough truth wasn’t going to be an option for much longer. Sooner or later, someone besides Livia Invidus was going to remember seeing my father with Nerezza in his younger years, start digging, and piece together the scandal. I’d already been scouring the Regal and gossipcast archives for footage of the two of them at a ball, a garden party, or some other event, just like Lady Livia had insinuated. I hadn’t found any damning evidence so far, but it was only a matter of time before it surfaced.

The sand was rapidly trickling through the hourglass of this secret, and I had no idea what to do about any of it, especially my father’s seething anger and my grandmother’s stubborn silence. Like it or not, Vesper was part of our family, and I wanted to bloody talk to someone about it. Talking, even if it was only to myself, helped me process things and decide on which actions to take next. And in this case, I had a whole lot to process.

My eavesdropping ruse forgotten, I stalked away from the refreshment tables and went over to the edge of the lawn. A guard standing in front of one of the towering honeysuckle bushes snapped to attention and nodded respectfully. I returned the gesture and prowled past him.

The House Rojillo guards were all dressed in pink polyplastic armor, and they all had silver blasters and shock batons hooked to their belts, but their postures were lazy and relaxed, much like the Imperium soldiers stationed outside Castle Caldaren. The biggest threat these guards would face tonight would be Regals high on chembonds who didn’t want to take no for an answer from the pretty young servants.

I circled the lawn, scanning the guards lined up in front of the bushes and making sure there were no gaps in their formation. The gossipcasters and everyone else might think I was an arrogant idiot, but I took my duties as an Arrow very seriously, and a few days ago, I had reviewed House Rojillo’s security protocols for the solstice celebration.

I had sent Lord Jorge several suggestions, including doubling the number of guards, moving the security perimeter to the opposite side of the lake, and cutting down some of the bushes on the lawn to provide better sight lines and escape routes in case something went wrong. But Lady Halecia had been downright aghast at the mere thought of thinning out her prize honeysuckles, so Jorge hadn’t implemented any of my proposed changes.

Sometimes I thought Regal vanity was going to be the death of us all.

The Rojillos had every right to decide how to protect their own castle, but I knew—I bloody knew—they would have made the security changes if Kyrion had suggested them instead of me. The other Regals simply respected—and feared—Kyrion Caldaren far more than they ever had me, thanks in large part to my Zane Zimmer persona. I had no one to blame for that but myself, but frustration still churned in my gut like acid.

Especially since the summer solstice celebration was a prime spot for a Techwave attack.

Dozens of powerful Regals in attendance. A remote location. Scaled-down security that was a far cry from the squads of Imperium soldiers that surrounded Crownpoint and patrolled the Boulevard and Promenade Park. The solstice celebration was the perfect soft target, something I’d mentioned to Callus Holloway, although he too had ignored me, just as the Rojillos had.

They all thought I was paranoid, but they had never been in a Techwave battle like the one on Magma 7. A few months ago, Holloway had sent me, Kyrion, and Julieta Delano to drive the Techwavers out of a metal refinery, but nothing had gone according to plan. Scores of Imperium soldiers and conscripts had been killed, and Julieta had secretly triggered a lava eruption that had almost ended us all. I’d always known the Techwavers were dangerous, but that was the first time I’d realized just how far they were willing to go—and just how many of their own troops they were willing to sacrifice—to topple the Imperium.

So far, the Techwave hadn’t dared to launch an attack anywhere on Corios, but that was something else that was only a matter of time. According to Holloway’s spies, the Techwavers were working on a new weapon capable of cutting through a variety of defensive energy shields, from the large ones around ships and buildings to the smaller ones that powerful psions like myself could mentally create to absorb and protect ourselves from blaster fire and the like.

A few weeks ago, Harkin Ocnus, one of the Techwave’s top scientists, had kidnapped Vesper from the Quill Corp campus on Temperate 42 and tried to force her to fix the terrorist group’s new weapon. Vesper had quickly escaped from Harkin’s clutches, but according to Holloway’s spies, the Techwave still needed her expertise. They too were hunting her, which was yet another reason I needed to find her before anyone else did. I had no desire to be killed by a weapon engineered by my own sister.

A glimmer of gray caught my eye, and a woman moved out of the shadows surrounding the castle. She stopped underneath a string of bulbs, and the pink glow gilded her long wavy black hair in a soft sheen. A pale gray gown clung to her strong, curvy body like a gauzy cloud, and tiny bits of colored ore glinted on her long skirt. Larger pieces of ore covered her chest, packed tightly together as though she was wearing a jagged, jeweled breastplate.

A thin silver chain gleamed around her neck, with a single bit of ore resting in the hollow of her throat like a tiny shimmering opal. Sparkling silver powder had been dusted over her pale skin, and she looked like a moon goddess who had stepped out of the night sky and down into the garden. Light and dark, and hard and soft, like an artist’s study in contrasts.

Wariness coursed through me, as though a pebble had been dropped into the still pool of my mind and was sending ripples of suspicion through my entire body.

Lady Asterin Armas, the woman I was supposed to marry.