Once Ana took her place at the Grand Duchess’s side, the steward trumpeted, “Introducing Lady Cynthia Malachite Valerio, married to the late Lord Mercer Valerio, escorted by her eldest, Erik Malachite Valerio.”
Their names were like cold fingers racing up Robb’s spine. Please don’t let Jax be with them, he prayed as he slowly turned toward the staircase. Please.
Erik, charming and poised as ever, escorted their mother down the stairs and across the ballroom to the Grand Duchess, looking like a pair in matching black with silver accents. His mother’s dress trailed behind like a long shadow, as though she was taller than she appeared. He must have missed the silver-and-black memo.
At least, to Robb’s relief, the Solani was nowhere to be seen.
Erik and his mother bowed to Ana and the Grand Duchess. “Your Graces.”
The look Ana gave them was so sharp, it could cut steel.
“Lady Valerio, Lord Valerio,” the Grand Duchess greeted. “What an honor that you could join us.”
“Of course, Your Grace. We only wish to serve the kingdom as best we can in whatever capacity we can.”
“But in what capacity can I now serve you? We have given up much, Your Grace,” Erik said, earning a sharp look from his mother.
Robb’s eyebrow twitched. It wasn’t like Erik to speak out and break protocol.
The Grand Duchess smiled. “Of course, I should address that lest I forget. Lord Valerio has done a great service to my family.”
Lady Valerio returned her smile. “Erik will forever be a stalwart fixture in—”
“I meant the younger Valerio.”
The smile dropped from his mother’s face.
Robb cursed, mentally kicking himself. Rotten, no-good, Goddess-sodding luck—
The Grand Duchess turned her stone-cut green eyes to him, and he felt heat rising in his cheeks. “As promised, I would like to reward you for reuniting my family. Anything I can grant shall be yours, I promise on iron and stars.”
Anything? What a far cry that was from just a few days ago, when the Grand Duchess had asked what he could possibly want for turning in a traitor.
Then, he had wanted to save Ana’s life. But now . . .
He could ask for anything. Absolutely anything. Something to advance the Valerio name—a royal title for Erik, a legacy for his mother. He could ask for anything his heart wanted. Admission back into the Academy. A proper funeral for his father.
Pardons for his friends on the Dossier.
Friends.
A few days ago he would’ve scoffed at the idea, because Robb Valerio didn’t have friends. Or if he did, he had a use for them. But Ana was unlike anyone he’d ever met. She was kind, but kind in a way most people called brash. She was reckless, and she followed her heart like it was a guiding star. She was insufferable, and yet she had suffered so much and it had never defined her.
Ana was different from anyone else in the entire cosmos, and a part of him wanted to be different, too.
Maybe he was already a little different, a little better than before. Whether she’d inspired it, or someone else, he couldn’t explain. But he was different. Ever since Astoria—no, ever since the shrine.
Love was a double-edged sword. It could protect you from the worst of the kingdom, but then it could cut so deep the loss ached years later.
His mother’s love had slowly been whittled down against his bone like a dull knife, and he’d thought that was the only kind of love there was. But then came Ana and the Dossier, using their blades to deflect instead of damage, and he wanted to do the same.
His mother looked at him expectantly. He was a Valerio, after all. He was loyal to his family, and only his family.
But what was a family? Did it have to be blood relatives? Or could it be people you barely knew?
And, suddenly, he knew exactly what to ask for.
“There is a prisoner,” he said, “who was captured outside the Iron Shrine on Nevaeh. He’s innocent, and I would like him released.”
The Grand Duchess’s eyebrows quirked up. “A prisoner?”
“Mokuba Jyen.” The moment he said the info broker’s name, Ana clutched at the folds of her dress.
“That’s the Ilidian we caught, Your Grace,” Lord Rasovant said to the Grand Duchess. “He was trying to sell valuable information that would put the kingdom at risk. I’m sorry, but it is not possible—”
“I think it is,” Ana interrupted, and the Adviser’s face pinched.
A murmur swept through the ballroom.
Ana leaned forward in her chair, one leg crossing the other, the sides of her lips tugging up. And for a moment—a second—she looked like Siege. “Iron Law states that any citizen who cannot be proven guilty of a crime is innocent. Can you prove that the info broker held valuable information, Lord Rasovant?”
The old man prickled. “Of course I can!”
“Do you have the information? Can you show us?”
His mouth worked open and closed for a moment, struggling with what to say.
Robb tried to keep the smirk off his face. Never underestimate a criminal.
Ana knew that Rasovant would never divulge that Mokuba’s information was coordinates to his lost fleetship, because it would only lead people to ask why it was there, who stole it—why.
Too bad it was a shipwreck on Palavar now.
The Iron Adviser set his mouth, realizing that he couldn’t win, and gave in. “Forgive me, I misspoke.” Then he turned to Robb, his eyes darker and sharper than they’d been a moment before. “Lord Valerio. I will see to it that he is released.”
Ana flashed Robb a smile, and he nodded. At least one of them had to wear a poker face, and it would never be her.
The Grand Duchess looked amused. “Will that be all, Lord Valerio?”
“Yes, thank you, Your Grace.” With a bow, he excused himself from the ballroom. The sooner he was away from his mother, the less likely it was he would have to answer for what he’d just done.
He needed time to think up a pretty lie before that happened.
Anything—he could have asked for anything.
He wished he could have asked for Jax.
If his mother was here, then Jax had to be holed up somewhere in her rooms, and if he was, this was probably the only chance Robb would have of getting him out of here.
A swell of violins hummed over the crowd, and the dance resumed.
A hand grabbed his coat sleeve.
He froze, for a second thinking it was his brother, until Ana said, “Wait—I want to thank you.”
“Don’t. It’s what I had to do.”
“You didn’t have to do anything,” she replied, and undid the pendant from around her neck. She held it out to him. His father’s crest. “Here. I . . . I think it’s yours.”
“Ana . . .”
“In fact, I’m sure it is, so take it. I don’t remember how I got it, but I think your father saved me—from the fire. Or whatever really happened in the tower. And I think he’d want you to have it.”
His throat constricted as he looked at his father’s brooch. How many years had he wanted to hold it, dreamed of finding it? And here it was, so close he could take it. But . . .
“No,” he said, and closed her fingers over the pendant again, “my father gave it to you. There are only four in the kingdom. As traditions go, Valerios pass them down to whoever is important to us, and you’re half Valerio, after all. He gave it to you, so I want you to keep it.”
Her brow furrowed. “But Robb—”
“Please.”
She kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she said, before someone called her name and she turned toward the voice.
He took the moment to slip away, out of a side door guarded by a statue-still Messier, and away from the heady perfumes and romantic waltzes. The hallways were almost deserted, employees of the crown rushing from one room to the next so that the gala went perfectly. No one noticed him leave, and no one stopped him to ask where he was going—the East Tower, where he hoped Jax was being kept.
And suddenly he was so very tired of all these games. Of murder and deceit and extravagant parties. What would life have been like, he wondered, if he had been a normal boy on Eros? With a normal boyfriend and a loving family?
He had never wondered that before—who he would be if he was not a Valerio.
It might’ve been nice—
A shadow down the hallway caught his eye. Red eyes. A Metal body.
He blinked, and it was gone.
Breathe. He needed to breathe. He was seeing things.
First, he needed to get that voxcollar off Jax’s neck before his mother or Erik did something truly horrible—and after what Robb had done at the gala, he needed to do it soon.