Vespir knelt before the Pentri, eyes fixed on their silken shoes. Antonia hovered nearby, still wearing that scent of honeysuckle and peach blossom. Vespir closed her eyes. To be this near Antonia again was worth…

Everything. Including this awful meeting.

“Say what you’ve come to say,” Lord Pentri barked. Honestly, even getting this audience with him had seemed impossible. A thought nagged at Vespir: maybe they’d agreed in order to have one last opportunity to kick in her teeth.

They couldn’t have chosen a more perfect room. The curtains were of forest-green velvet, the moldings along the ceiling crafted to resemble bursts of wildflowers, while the carpet depicted a brilliant silk sky studded with clouds. The world upside-down: Vespir’s life encapsulated.

“My lord, I’ve heard whispers from the Volscia servants.” Vespir’s voice shook. Yes, that girl carrying the tray of glasses had been more than happy to assist a competitor, particularly one raised up from the peasantry. In fact, the servant had snuck Vespir downstairs, where maids and footmen and kitchen girls offered her a thimble of cherry brandy, snuck from the cook when her back was turned. That brought memories of her former life flooding back. For the first time in days, Vespir had felt her spine relax. This was her type of party and people.

And the servants had been only too willing to discuss the secrets of their masters.

Vespir had expected something bad. She had not been prepared for what she heard.

“My lord, you know what a pit worm is?” Vespir did not dare look up. Lord Pentri snorted.

“A dragon that hatches with no rider present,” he grumbled. At least he was humoring her.

Vespir had heard tales of such unfortunate dragons. They were wild, insane, raised in the bowels of the underground to avoid mishaps. Chained, baited, they grew increasingly mad until they were used as training for a proper dragon. Pit worms were thrown into an arena against a ridered mount as tests for dracomachia. Dragon battle.

The pit worms never came out alive, one small mercy in an otherwise brutal life.

“My lord and lady, Hyperia of the Volscia is…is a golden Hydra who was raised like a pit worm.” Vespir worried her lip. “I’ve heard stories of what her parents did to her. They made her stand outside in the snow for an entire night because she disagreed with them at supper. They had her kill her own dog with a bow and arrow when she was ten years old because they thought it would teach her to take even the most difficult shots.” Vespir’s eyes stung with tears. She hadn’t expected ever to feel sympathy for someone like Hyperia of the Volscia.

“We know that the Volscia have an investment in their daughter,” Lady Pentri said.

Vespir clenched her jaw. “You know that she killed her own sister to be called to the Trial, then?”

“Some sacrifices are necessary in order to rule. Truly, I’m only sorry such a measure didn’t occur to others.”

Antonia moved a bit closer, and Vespir longed to diminish the distance between them.

“It’s more than that. Hyperia has whipped servants for the smallest mistakes. She put one nine-year-old chambermaid through a window for spilling lamp oil on her sister’s favorite gown.” Vespir had met the girl, now twelve. The scars were still written on her cheeks and wrists.

“Perhaps it’s a good method for dealing with wayward servants,” Lady Pentri said, voice dripping acid. Vespir’s eye twitched.

“She threatened Lord Tiber’s life,” Vespir muttered. Finally, that shut the Pentri up. Vespir had been below stairs when a servant burst in breathless with the news. She’d been eavesdropping on Hyperia’s audience with the Tiber family, and had watched as Hyperia threw her own father to the wall and threatened him. She’d described the “madness” in the girl’s expression. Vespir prayed to the blue above that she never find herself on the receiving end of such a vengeful glance.

This time, no snide comments followed Vespir’s tale.

“How can we be sure it’s not a lie?” Lord Pentri grunted.

“My lord, you may ask Lord Tiber. I’m sure he’ll have something to say.” Vespir clasped her hands before her breast. “I never wanted to be called to the Emperor’s Trial, and I don’t want the throne. All I’ve ever wanted since Karina’s egg hatched was to be your servant.” A lie, but close enough to the truth. “Please. Help me. If—if you do and I somehow manage to take the throne, I’ll—” She swallowed, trying to unstick her words. “I’ll give up the throne to Ant—to Lady Antonia. I swear it.” She bowed her head to the carpet. “I’ve served you for many years, haven’t I? I could still serve you now.”

Her heart trammeled wildly as Lord Pentri walked to her. She saw the toes of his shoes.

“What is your family name, girl?” he asked.

“Um. Lutum, sir.” Vespir Lutum. Lutum was the Latium, the imperial tongue, for dirt, assigned randomly to her family long ago when the empire came to the grasslands. Vespir had always envied the Caelums next door—the Skys.

“Vespir Dirt.” Lord Pentri nudged her forehead with the toe of his shoe. Vespir’s eyes watered. “A family of the dragon does not make deals with dirt,” he spat.

Vespir flinched, waiting for the kick that did not come. His words hurt worse.

“You took an egg from our rookery. You were gifted a place in the sky for all eternity, a nothing such as yourself, and in return you stole from us.”

“Not on purpose!” she cried.

“You stole our daughter. Filth like you placed your grubby hands on her. Peasant trash.” He placed his foot on the back of her head and pressed. Vespir made a frightened noise.

“Father, stop it!” Antonia cried. He pressed harder.

“You took her place in the Trial. Death is too good for such thieving scum.” He removed his foot and bent low to her ear. “I only regret wasting a dragon upon a maggot like you. You, make deals with me? Be given my family crest? Never.” He spat in her hair. Bile flooded the back of Vespir’s throat.

“Get away from her!” Antonia was crying now. Tears flooded Vespir’s eyes as well. She thought of Tavi’s weeping face as the door closed between them forever.

“What about what you took from me?” she snarled. Lord Pentri gripped her hair and lifted her head. Vespir caught a flash of the lord’s black eyes and furrowed brows before he slapped her across the face.

“Stop it!” Antonia pulled her father away, and Lord Pentri rounded on her while Vespir’s vision shook.

“You could have had any noblewoman in our territory, and you chose filth like this? You’re an embarrassment,” he hissed.

Vespir struggled to her feet, ready to fight him for those awful words. Instead, Antonia shoved her father. Lady Pentri gasped in outrage.

“You’re the embarrassment, not me!” Antonia howled. Vespir was numb with shock as the Pentri girl ushered her parents from the room. The family’s heated argument grew muffled, and the door shut. Vespir wiped the spit from her hair and centered herself as Antonia came back to her in tears, on a cloud of perfume. And then…and then…

“I’m so sorry.” Antonia looked up at her, a tear tracking down her cheek. The candlelight turned the tear into a gleaming ribbon.

“So am I,” Vespir croaked. She did not look down. She did not wait for Antonia to make the first move.

This moment, them alone together, was the only thing in this world that Vespir wanted any longer.

She stepped close and cupped the girl’s face. She wiped Antonia’s tears away with her thumb. Then they were kissing, Antonia’s lips soft as silk.

She clutched at Vespir’s shoulders, gasped when Vespir’s tongue stroked against hers. Vespir was all fire now, all light with this girl in her arms. She trailed kisses along Antonia’s neck. Antonia gave soft, breathy utterances as Vespir pressed kisses to her pulse and then returned to her luscious mouth. Their kiss deepened, the world falling away around them.

Contentment settled in Vespir’s chest. This was her one wish. Let the Pentri see how much their daughter loved being kissed like this.

She’d begun this embrace hot with fury, kissing Antonia as much out of spite as desire. But the more they kissed, the more that pain evaporated. The more they kissed, the more Vespir felt as she had at twelve when hiding in the aerie rafters, still weepy after being forced from home. She’d spied on Antonia playing with her dragon hatchling, giggling when the little creature butted its head against her velvet-clad knee. Vespir had forgotten home in that moment; she’d watched a beam of sunlight halo Antonia’s dark hair. Bracelets of amethyst and white jade circled the girl’s slender wrists, clacking merrily as she waved her hands. Vespir’s body felt full just looking at her.

Tasting her own pulse, Vespir experienced a revelation. The Pentri heir was not a goddess, but a girl.

And a few brief days ago, when they’d been exercising their dragons down by the river, Antonia had lain beside Vespir on the clay banks with the tall reeds sheltering them, and kissed her. If such a divine girl could love a nothing like her, Vespir thought, then maybe she was worthwhile.

“Vespir. Vespir.” Antonia peppered kisses on her lips, but then pulled away. She put a hand to Vespir’s cheek. Tears welled in her eyes once more. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Vespir stroked Antonia’s hair, fingered the amethyst pendants dangling from her ears. “We don’t need to worry anymore. They can’t do anything to us now.” She froze with a sudden thought. “Unless they’ve been hurting you?”

Antonia smiled, wiped her eyes, and shook her head.

“No. If anything, I’ve been terrorizing them. My parents tried to discipline me, but they just can’t manage it. They never could. I’m their only baby, after all.” Yes, Lady Pentri had delivered five stillborn children after Antonia. Every year, Antonia’s birthday was the cause of massive celebration throughout the Ikrayina.

Well, Vespir thought that much celebration was only fair. It was Antonia, after all.

“So you’ve been yelling at them?” Vespir grinned in return.

“If they so much as mutter your name, I start a lecture. Father eventually had to go flying to get away from me. I trailed him all the way to the aerie.”

“I wouldn’t want you as my enemy.” Vespir stroked Antonia’s hair.

“No. I make a much better friend, it’s true.”

“Oh? Just a friend?” Vespir mock-pouted, then leaned in for another kiss. When it was only the two of them, Antonia and her, Vespir forgot to be afraid. Every tiny thing became a secret shared, another link in the golden chain that bound them together.

But Antonia turned her face from the kiss, so that Vespir’s lips only brushed her cheek. The girl stepped away.

“I’ll keep praying for you. I’ll never give up hope.” Antonia settled her shoulders. She sounded earnest, but…distant.

What?

“Well, that’s nice of you,” Vespir muttered, slow with surprise. When she advanced, Antonia retreated. A tremor passed through her body. Antonia was…pulling away. Antonia, the sole bright, unwavering spot Vespir had been moving toward since the calling, flickered. The nearer that light came to going out, the more Vespir craved it. “Come here.” Vespir held out her arms. Antonia did not come.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “Every second I’m with you they’ll get madder. They could try turning more Houses against you.”

What a joke. Every other House looked down upon Vespir because of her birth. They were as turned away as it was possible to get. Vespir swallowed, thought back to Antonia’s words in the Pentri aerie on the day of the calling. They’d filled Vespir with such fire. Vespir held up her head, repeated those words now.

“If I know you’re waiting for me, I’ll take the throne.” She said it with determination. “I’m coming back for you.”

“Oh. Of course.” Antonia tried smiling.

All of Vespir’s courage collapsed.

“You…you believe I will, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” She was trying so, so hard to lie well.

She was failing.

Stunned, Vespir understood. This had to look hopeless, didn’t it? She’d lost the first challenge and was undoubtedly going to lose this one as well. Maybe she had a chance at the Race, but her dragon was the smallest. Size mattered. The fourth challenge, the Truth? What in the depths was that supposed to be? Vespir had no family connections, no book learning, no battle strategy. She had love—love for her dragon, for Antonia…

Love had nothing to do with victory.

Antonia would likely never see her again after tonight. She was…

She was trying to lessen the pain.

“All right.” Vespir fought to remain still. The world tilted around her as she said, “You should go. My lady.”

Antonia’s chin trembled at Vespir’s cool tone, and she buried her face in her hands. No, Vespir couldn’t watch her cry. She’d do any wild thing if Antonia would only smile. When Vespir took her wrists, Antonia raised her tear-swollen face one last time. They looked in each other’s eyes, the same way they had when they were thirteen and Antonia had decided that they should. Just in private, of course, she’d said. So we can be friends. To Vespir, it’d been like receiving a priceless gift.

“I love you,” Antonia whispered. She raced out the door, leaving Vespir alone.

Alone again.

Vespir had been forced to trade her family for a dragon. Now she’d be forced to trade love and her dragon both for…nothing.

She was the empress of losers.

Vespir fell to her knees and sobbed.

No one came to check on her.