The Starlight Heir

My clothing is splattered in ash and soot, but it’s the most grounded I’ve felt in days. Working in the forge is calming. Centering. Safe. Other than Amma’s kitchen, there is no place in the world I’d rather be than surrounded by tools and fire and covered in sweat.

And at least you’re not immolating anyone . . .

I shove that thought away as fast as it comes. Roshan had convinced everyone that a spontaneous lantern fire had caught us unawares. Aran’s easy, forthcoming forgiveness didn’t do much, however, to lessen my awful burden of guilt.

News had also come from the capital. Javed and Morvarid had been quick and ruthless in their removal of anyone who posed a threat to Javed’s succession, including any distant relatives from the House of Regulus who could have a hereditary claim. Even war leaders from Antares with minor armies of their own had been quietly deposed. According to gossip, the Aldebaran alderman who disputed the queen’s position as regent was sent to the arena and devoured by Javed’s pet azdaha, under false claims of treason.