Chapter 24 #2
The room shifts. Eyes lock onto me from every direction. The withdrawal spikes – nausea, vertigo, the desperate need to heal someone, anyone, just to take the edge off. I clasp my hands behind my back so no one sees them shake.
Ren’s presence at my shoulder steadies me. Barely.
“The remaining members of Team One.” The Cardinal draws three more crystals, calling names as each one lights. “Lord Castor of Jupiter. Lady Nerida of Neptune. Lord Evander of Saturn.”
I stare at the assembled names, my mind racing.
Lord Castor, who might still want revenge after I cost him the first trial. Whose contempt for weakness could make him dangerous.
Lady Nerida, who speaks in riddles and sees things the rest of us can’t. Unpredictable at best.
And Lord Evander, who trusts logic over people. Who will calculate every move and expect the same from everyone else.
“Team Two,” Cardinal Benedict continues. “Led by Lord Zevran of Mars. The remaining members: Lady Isolde of Venus. Lady Tavia of Mercury. Commander Kaelix of Uranus.”
The assignments send ripples through the chamber. Zevran has the diplomatic powerhouse: Isolde’s strategy and charisma, Lady Tavia’s quick thinking and communication expertise, and Commander Kaelix’s innovation and technical brilliance. A formidable group that complements each other’s strengths.
Meanwhile, my team looks like a disaster waiting to happen.
Lord Castor grins across the room at me – threat and calculation both visible in his expression.
Lord Evander’s face stays neutral, but I see him already running probabilities, measuring variables.
Lady Nerida seems unsurprised, as if she’d seen this outcome before it happened.
Her ocean eyes meet mine, and something in her gaze sends a chill down my spine.
Cardinal Maria steps forward. “You have two days to prepare. Study your teammates. Understand their strengths. The Fractured Mirror shows no mercy to divided teams.” Her eyes sweep the room, lingering on me for just a moment too long. “Those who cannot learn to trust will not survive.”
The dismissal is clear. Delegates begin filing out, team members gravitating toward each other with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Zevran stands just close enough that I feel his presence, solid and grounding. But he can’t help me now. Not when we’re on opposing teams. Ren remains behind me, silent and watchful, her doubt about the Cardinals still visible in the careful way she holds herself.
As the delegates spill into the corridors beyond, some cast glances back at me as they leave, their expressions ranging from curiosity, to calculation … to what might be respect.
The corridor outside the Hall of Houses feels like the aftermath of a storm that hasn’t quite passed. Delegates gather in tight clusters, voices hushed but urgent, eyes cutting sideways at rival Houses. The tension from inside has followed us out, clinging to the air like static before lightning.
I exit with Ren close behind, her hand still resting near her weapon. The weight of being named team leader sits heavy on my shoulders, made worse by the withdrawal crawling under my skin.
House leaders peel off into corners, pulling their advisors into whispered conferences.
Jupiter’s delegation clusters near the eastern archway, Lord Castor at the centre like a general planning his next assault.
His advisor and aides speak in urgent tones, gesturing sharply.
I catch fragments: “…weakness in the Cardinals…” “…can’t even secure their own arena…
” One scarred lieutenant shakes his head, disgust written across his face.
Mercury’s people gather under their blue-and-silver banners, Lady Tavia speaking rapidly to her communications specialists. Her hands move in dramatic gestures, outlining protocols. “Full encryption audit,” she says, voice tight with worry. “Every relay, every signal path.”
Uranus’s tech engineers are beamed in via a comms device on Commander Kaelix’s wrist, their voices crackling with outrage. “Someone stole prototype schematics,” one says, her face flushed. “This isn’t just theft, it’s sabotage.”
The Cardinals remain at the doorway, speaking in hushed tones. Cardinal Benedict’s hand rests on Cardinal Maria’s arm, his grip tight enough to show white at the knuckles. She’s shaking her head, mouth moving rapidly in argument.
Ren watches them with an expression I’ve never seen on her before … the careful suspicion of a soldier who no longer trusts her superiors.
“Cyra!”
The voice cuts through the murmuring crowd, familiar and desperate.
I turn.
Astrid pushes her way through the lingering delegates, weaving between clusters of House aides who part reluctantly. She’s breathless, her dark hair escaping its usual braid, her eyes bright with worry. Her civilian clothes look out of place among all the House colours and formal robes.
“Cyra, thank the stars!” She reaches me and pulls me into a warm hug. “They wouldn’t let me into the Hall, I’ve been waiting out here not knowing what was happening—”
We move out of the hug and I grip her hands before she can finish. The contact steadies something inside me that’s been rattling loose since the shadow closed over my mouth.
My sister. My anchor.
“You’re really okay?” Her brown eyes scan my face, my neck, searching for injuries. “When they told me there was an assassination attempt—”
“I’m fine. Ren got there in time.”
Astrid’s shoulders drop with relief. She links her arm through mine, her grip tight. “We need to talk. Properly.”
As we walk through the emptying corridors, I see Zevran ahead, flanked by Mars guards. His eyes find mine across the distance.
For a heartbeat, I see the concern there – raw and unguarded.
Then, suddenly – Commander Nael steps into view beside him, and Zevran’s expression shutters completely.
He must have requested Commander Nael replace me as his advisor, I realize.
Zevran turns away without acknowledgment, his posture rigid, and continues his conversation as if I don’t exist. Commander Nael’s gaze finds me next. No warmth. No recognition of the weeks we spent in strategy meetings together. Just a long, cold look before he follows Zevran down the corridor.
“Mars politics,” Astrid murmurs, noticing. “He can’t be seen supporting you publicly. Not now.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” She lowers her voice further.
“Cyra, when the news broke – when they announced who you were – it hit Mars like a shockwave. The markets went quiet. People didn’t know what to do.
” She pauses. “But it’s complicated. You healed half the district over the years.
Liora did favours for families, never asked for payment. People remember that too.”
“So they’re…”
“Conflicted,” Astrid finishes. “Some are angry … but others are defending you, saying you’re not your father.
There were arguments in the streets. A vendor who you saved from blood poisoning got into a fistfight with someone who called you a traitor’s spawn.
” She glances toward where Zevran disappeared.
“It’s tearing communities apart. If Lord Zevran allies with you now, publicly, before his people decide how they feel?
They’ll see it as him choosing sides against them.
He can’t afford that division. Not now.”
I know she’s right. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt less.
“If I may,” Ren cuts in gently. “Your residential wing has been thoroughly swept and secured now, Lady Cyra. New locks, reinforced entry points. It might be better for you both to have your own space rather than…” She glances down the corridor.
“The optics of staying in Lord Zevran’s quarters aren’t ideal. ”
“She’s right,” Astrid says quietly. “You need separation. Political distance.”
I nod, throat tight. We redirect to my chambers. Ren does a full sweep anyway before positioning herself outside the door. “No one gets in without going through me.”
When the door seals, Astrid releases my arm. She sits on the edge of the bed, and I join her.
“Now tell me everything,” she says. “Start at the very beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”