CHAPTER SEVEN
TOUCH OF RUIN
Kaidren Vale doesn’t know where to sit. While the other Honorate stream into the chamber and flock to their assigned benches, Kaidren hovers in the back, awkward and small.
No one spares him a glance, let alone offers to guide him to his father’s bench (now Kaidren’s). It’s only after the final Honorate takes his seat that Kaidren rushes for the only remaining bench in chamber. He reeks of embarrassment as he tumbles haphazardly into the seat.
A few Honorate snicker, loud enough to echo mockingly.
If they resented him yesterday—and they did—it’s nothing compared to now. The Shadow Queen’s latest column, released early this morning, announced to the world that Kaidren Vale is Opheran. An unforgivable offense.
Tension crackles as Luc enters the dais, and the meeting begins. There’s only one item on today’s agenda.
The spiteful whispers have dried up by the time ballots are collected.
Luc doesn’t even try to mask his pleased smile when he’s finished counting.
“There are nine opposed and eleven in favor. The order passes.” He beams as he repeats the words I practically carved into his memory: “I would like to take this time to formally announce my bid for candidacy for Praeceptor once again.”
I curve my lips in an expectant smirk, waiting for the warmth of happiness to sink in.
It doesn’t.
I’m not happy—I’m only relieved. Relieved that Luc will be Praeceptor for a second term, relieved I won’t have to endure threats from his parents for at least another five years.
Five more years of glares and disdain from Luc’s guards and everyone else in Widow’s Hall; forgoing sleep so Luc can be well rested; spending hours writing orders only for Luc to sign his name to them, because he might be hopeless without me, but I’m nothing without him.
Lost in bitter thoughts and a heavy heart, I don’t notice Kaidren rising from his seat until he’s at the front of the chamber, overlooking the Honorate.
Another breach of decorum. Honorate are meant to stand at their benches and face the Praeceptor as they speak, but Kaidren clearly hasn’t learned his lesson since yesterday.
“Fellow members of the Honorate.” He no longer looks nervous. He stands tall, words bold and self-assured. “I know I’m new and still have much to learn. Which is why I’d like to offer my services to the Republic as an isha. Together, we will find more aikkari and expand the decurio.”
I send up a prayer to every star in the sky that he’s lying—but I’m frozen solid.
We have an isha in Widow’s Hall.
Horror pits in my stomach.
If Kaidren touches me—if his skin so much as brushes mine in passing—he’ll know I’m aikkari.
He’ll know I never reported myself to the decurio.
He’ll have all he needs to get me thrown in prison or forced to enlist. From there, it will only take a bit of digging for him to learn my greatest secret: that I am the Shadow Queen.
With one touch, Kaidren Vale could ruin me.
Once again, Kaidren has set my world alight—and he’s not even finished speaking. “I’d also like to take this time to announce my own intentions for the throne.”
My knees are weak.
He wouldn’t dare . . .
Kaidren gives an unmistakable smirk as he turns to face Luc on the dais.
He bends into an exaggerated bow, more mocking than respectful.
“I look forward to competing against you in the Tournament of Thrones, Honored Praeceptor.” I can no longer see his face, but I imagine that smug little grin widening before he says, “May the best man win.”