Chapter 53
But because she chose this mortal body, it does not.
The field quiets. The twin cities rustle beneath her.
She stays over Anton, her breath shuddering.
Without the crown, she possesses no power.
Without sigils, she can obtain no new power.
The vessel of her other form lies a few paces away, but Calla does not consider wearing it, not for a second.
She is Calla Tuoleimi. Princess of Er. The last rightful king of Talin, descended from the line of Akilas and Potau, who won their war with glory from their gods.
Footsteps approach. The palace guards surround her, and Calla does not lift her head.
“You will answer for this,” she tells Galipei, who has stood by. Who stayed to watch Anton die, to confirm it with his own eyes this time. “You and August both.”
She has no energy to summon anger. It is matter of fact. A statement. A promise. Anton’s black eyes have stayed open, devoid of any rippling light behind them. Dead as dead can be. Calla, softly, reaches over and closes them.
“I know,” Galipei replies.
A sharp sting pierces her shoulder. Calla doesn’t fight it. She doesn’t bother moving away. There is only one way this ends, and she knows what it will take to make it happen.
She lets the sedative take hold.