Penn, Paige, and Reed — Used Booksellers was a two-story fire hazard of overpacked shelves accessible only by rickety rolling ladders. So little merchandise left the shelves that new arrivals often littered the floor in boxes beside stacks of yellowed periodicals and water-damaged cast-offs that never made it to the trash. Like most shops in the Wares District specializing in antiques, gently used goods, and other ubiquitous old junk, the space was redolent of stale dust. Motes drifted through the air before depositing on any stationary object they could find. But, despite the mess, it was quiet, scarcely trafficked, and there was even something comforting about the smell. There was nothing about this absolute death trap Verity Starling didn’t love. So, when the proprietor sent word that a significant acquisition of historical texts she’d been looking for had arrived, she’d blatantly skipped out her duties for the day—namely, the meeting she was expected to attend.

  Her parents were finding more and more excuses to suffocate what was left of her dwindling freedom in the months drawing closer to her Ascension. Even on the few occasions she’d been granted time to ride her motorcycle, it was never without an escort. Her parents claimed it was a precaution due to the rising tensions between Scionists and Zealots, but Verity knew the real reason. For months, rumors of Forsaken sightings had been increasing in Reviny. Not that they surprised her. Anyone who had been paying attention knew those same rumors had been spreading wildly on the mainland for years, which is what had lured her here— the hope of finding a book, if she was lucky, on said creatures. No easy feat when such books were considered a lost remnant from the time before the Forsaken were relegated to legend.

  As she scraped the bottom of the crate for the last two books, a paper avalanche destroyed the solitude of this space. Slumping forward, she sighed deeply before lifting her head in the direction of the crash.

  “This is precisely why I don't take you anywhere.” Verity groaned.

  Amid the aftermath stood two women whose shared shades of black hair, warm sepia skin, and cold indigo eyes made them unmistakable as anyone but Verity’s sisters. Younger siblings, to be precise. She loved them, really she did, but having them tag along was more of a handful than it was worth, even if she’d needed her middle sister’s power to port out of the palace to avoid getting caught.

  Dual replies of “I'm sorry, Vera.” and “Shut up, Vera.” competed in her ears.

  The youngest sister, Cadence, tossed her loose braid over her shoulder, trying in vain to reorganize the destroyed pile of newspapers. In contrast, the middle sister, Darenger, stepped over the mess entirely to plop down on the arm of the beaten-up wingback where Verity was perched.

  “How are you not done yet?” Dare threw back her head with an exaggerated groan.

   “Are you in some rush to get home?” Verity asked.

  Darenger grabbed a book off a nearby tower, fanned the pages like a deck of cards, then abruptly snapped it shut to use the book to swat away the dust.

  “No, just bored.” She blew a raspberry to remove the last of the offending particles. “And starving. It's already afternoon, in case that’s escaped your notice…”

  Following Darenger’s hand to the only window in the room, Verity noticed the slant of the light had significantly changed direction from when she had first arrived.

  “I'm almost done,” Verity replied, eliciting a whine from both sisters.

  By now, Cadence realized the futility of her efforts, abandoning the clean-up effort, and retrieved the two bags she had set down. “Let's get something to eat and then hit the shops across the rail. Who knows when we’ll be able to escape again— we have to make the most of it.”

  “We will,” Verity promised, returning her attention to the last two books she’d fished out of the crate. “Just let me —”

  The flaking gilt title of the book in her hand stole her focus—a Field Guide to the Forsaken. The cover was haggard, but she didn’t care as long as the pages were in decent shape. She had a strange preoccupation with the feral creatures who’d once used their preternatural abilities to prey on mortals. Maybe that was because it was in her blood. After all, Verity’s ancient ancestor had driven them from the continent during her campaign to unify the realms and establish the Empire of Evren. But, over the years, Verity had heard too many reports of strange, vicious attacks to believe the Forsaken were completely exterminated. For years, she scrounged for moldering texts from these auctioned off estate collections, hoping to find information on a very specific Forsaken. Ignoring whatever her sisters were asking in the background, she began skimming the index with a finger. Freezing, she found the name she was searching for— Tempest Omiros— followed by a line of random numbers promising pages of the information she desired.

  “I’m buying this.”

  Her sister’s agitated complaints faded behind her as Verity made her way to the cashier at the front. At one point long ago, perhaps from when the proprietor had actually been one of the namesakes, some attempt had been made to organize the shop with small rooms sorted by topic or genre. Now it was a cluttered labyrinth of interconnecting closed spaces that only the experienced or the brave attempted to navigate. But, when she heard the bell atop the door jingle from the adjacent room and saw a city guard entering the shop, she was grateful for the cover the mess afforded.

  Flinging herself back around the corner of an overloaded bookshelf, she nearly knocked over her own stack of periodicals in her attempt to conceal herself. Tamping down her panic, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths. She knew there was a multitude of reasons the guard might be stopping in, and none of them necessarily were due to her. The Captain had them patrolling in pairs, doubling the guards for each shift in response to the recent unrest, but whether that was due to the growing fervor among the zealots or for an uptick in Forsaken sightings within the city, she couldn’t be sure. If the guards were looking for them, and even if the proprietor said he hadn't seen her—which, to be fair, he barely pulled his face out of a book longer than the time it took for the money to exchange hands— the guard would search the shop.

  Considering the preciousness of such a book in her hands, she chewed on her lip. The general consensus among the citizens of Evren was that the Forsaken had been exterminated. They had been relegated to a campfire story, a legend, and not worth the time and energy of any actual study beyond their significance as myth. Books like this were a rare, disappearing commodity, and she wasn't leaving without it.

  “Excuse me, have you seen—” The guard began, but Verity was already on her way back to Dare and Cady.

  Shoving the book inside her leather jacket, she zipped it up, secure against her chest. Winding through the rooms and stacks, dodging the obstacles on her path, she was tempted to knock over a few, but it would only make noise. Instead, she banked on the slight advantage she had in seeing the guard before he saw her.

  “Yep, we’re leaving.” She whispered forcefully as she flew wildly back into the room, elaborating when both sisters looked at her bewildered, “Guards here. Move.”

  Without question, Dare and Cady followed. The path to the back door was a narrow maze, and when they reached it, Verity twisted furiously to no avail. On the other side of the wall, muffled footsteps made Verity’s chest tighten. Sensing Verity’s anxiety, Cady calmly brushed her aside, clasped the knob, and at her touch, the bronze locking mechanism converted to glass, crunching under the pressure of a second forceful twist. The back door swung open beneath an arcade of black steel, suspending the rail line between the opposing storefronts, running the length of several blocks across the Wares District. Thankfully, the alley was empty save for broken crates, burn barrels, and the standard collection of everyday trash accumulated in such spaces. Cady shut the door, this time shifting the entire frame from wood to solid granite with another press of her palm.

  “Brilliant,” Verity hissed, allowing a split second to catch her breath once they were safely separated on the other side of the sealed door. “Were you two followed?

  “How is this our fault?” Dare barked back. “You haunt this book store like an old ghost. This is probably the first place they looked.”

  “I've found them!” Another voice echoed off the walls of the alley.

  Turning as one, they saw another guard approaching from the opening at the end of the block. They’d been seen now, adventure over. Dare instinctively seized the hands of her sisters as the rumbling of the approaching train drowned out all of the noise in the vicinity. In the span of its passing, the three young women completely disappeared as if they’d been blinked out of existence entirely. When they reappeared moments later in the residential wing of the palace, Verity couldn't say she was surprised to see someone waiting for them. She was, however, surprised it was their mother.

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  “You picked the wrong day to plot an escape.” Avadiel Starling, Divine Consort of Evren, narrowed her gaze directly at Verity. “Where have you been?”

  The three Scions definitely favored their father, sharing only the dark eyes of their mother. Coral-colored hair swept up into an intricate style stood in stark relief against the dark crown atop her head, complementing a midnight blue gown that intensified the Indigo glare that was pinning them down. This was not everyday attire, even for the Divine Consort. How odd for her to get so dressed up to attend a joint weekly meeting? Standing there, arms crossed and scowling, she looked every bit at the fierce deity she had once been before she had transcended.

  “Go to your rooms. I need to speak with Verity.”

  “We all needed to get out of the palace for a while,” Cady offered, ever eager to play mediator.

  “I was ready to snap from the isolation.” Dare added. “We haven’t been able to leave in weeks.”

  Their efforts to defend Verity fell on deaf ears, as they always did. As far as Avadiel was concerned, if the three of them were in trouble, the fault laid squarely with Verity. Even if they tagged along, she was undoubtedly the instigator. To be fair, sometimes that was true, but not always. Not that it mattered. Regardless of whose bad idea eventually led to trouble, Verity was ultimately blamed.

  “Stop defending your sister, and do as you’re told.”

There it was— the moment she absolved the younger sisters of any wrongdoing and focused her ire directly on Verity. The oldest. The one expected to know better, be better in other words: the heir. Torn, exchanging a look with their older sister, they waited, seeking permission to abandon her. Nodding softly, she gave it, and they hesitantly walked to the door, which her mother promptly slammed behind them. Verity leaned against the bedpost, bracing for whatever dressing down her mother had prepared by crossing her arms mimicking her mother.

  “Do you think I want to keep you locked up like prisoners?” Avadiel asked, angered when the question was only met with silence. “Are you going to answer me?”

  “Oh, my mistake,” Verity touched her fingers to her chest without a modicum of sincerity. “I assumed that was a rhetorical question, considering you don’t actually want to hear my honest answer.”

  “Have you any idea how tenuous our future is right now?” The forced measurement of her tone made each word sound punctuated. “Every day, there is another zealot protest threatening to turn into an uprising. We’ve had two protests turn violent this week alone.”

  “Is that the official story the palace is going with then?” Verity tilted her head, pursing her lips to feign as if she were impressed. “Pin the attacks you can’t stop without admitting the truth on the enemy you can’t contain. Clever deflection, mom.” Shifting bitterly, she added, “No wonder you refuse to let me just deal with the obvious Forsaken problem. It’s too convenient.”

  “Even if that were the case,” Avadiel said, clipped and firm, trying to keep control, implying that was precisely the case, “and, Forsaken were attacking citizens on the island, how stupid would I have to be to send you out to deal with it? That is what Nathania Obelisk is expecting— for me to unleash you on Evren like my own personal weapon. Brilliant idea, Verity.”

  “Aren’t you?” Verity upturned her hands, tiny lightning storms erupting from her palms. “All this power seems a wasted opportunity for you if I’m never allowed to use it.” Clenching her fists, she smothered the energy. “Otherwise, what’s the point of having me?”

  “You will use it,” Avadiel assured. “Once you’re Sovereign.”

   With a flourish of her hand, she smirked as if Avadiel’s words had turned into a tangible object she could use to demonstrate her point. “...when it’s convenient to you.” Closing her eyes for a beat, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Don’t you ever find this level of absolute control exhausting?”

  “This is not about what I want, Verity. It’s about what is best for Evren— not that I expect you to understand something as unselfish as that!” Avadiel shouted, the limits of her patience finally reached. “Unfortunately, the one mortal who holds the most sway in whether you Ascend or not happens to hold a personal grudge against this entire family. And, keeping her waiting while you galavanted across the island all morning hasn’t done you any favors.”

  When Verity hit a steep hill on her motorcycle, the descent always made her stomach plummet, like it had been floating for a second before it caught gravity. She usually enjoyed the thrill. Now she felt that same sensation in the understanding that her nemesis was somewhere inside her home, and Verity had the audacity, however unrealized, to piss her off even more than what Verity had learned to be the woman’s natural disposition.

  Whispering as if the woman in question had spies lurking outside the door, which Verity wouldn’t put past her, she asked, “Why is she even here?”

  “To attend the same important meeting where your attendance was required.”

  “Since when does the Legislature General feel the need to attend regular cabinet meetings?”

  “I don’t recall saying anything about an ordinary cabinet meeting.” Avadiel contradicted. “By law, the Legislature General and the Chief Magistrate must be made aware of all potential impacts upon the welfare of Evren, the Sovereign, the heir—” Truly pleased with herself, she paused, flashing a wicked grin. “And, her Sentinel.”

“Her what?” Verity gasped so sharply she choked on the air. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you correctly because I thought you just used the word Sentinel.”

  “Unlike your predecessors, as the first divine heir, your responsibilities to the realms are twofold. They will look to you for guidance in matters both physical and etheric, political and spiritual. That is what will make you the most powerful being in the history of Evren, but wielding that kind of power requires the trust of those loyal only to you. It is time you chose a divine servant.”

  “Does the trust come before or after I take them as a lover?” Verity touched her chin in mock contemplation. “Do I have to sleep with them both? Or, is that only specific to you?” Verity nearly broke character laughing at the way Avadiel’s face contorted at the insinuation. “Are they willing pawns from the start, or does that develop naturally over time? How long do I have to pretend that I love them? I need some clarification on expectations here since I only have you as a role model.”

  It was a low blow, as much as it was an open secret. Avadiel had chosen her own Sentinel strategically— that was evident enough when she then proceeded to incarnate rather than abandon Evren with the rest of the Paragons in the Infinite. Her father, Rowan, had always been complicit. The Sovereign had as much to gain from a divine heir in the dynasty as Avadiel had to give him one. But, her Prophet, Kleio Gerathy, didn’t have the luxury of a crown to fall back on after her patron deity had negated her usefulness when she’d transcended to the physical plane. Yet, Kleio had done as Avadiel said— remained loyal only to her, making herself indispensable by whatever means necessary. In all the ways that mattered, Avadiel's former prophet had been more of a mother to Verity than her own ever had. She was the one Verity had expected to be waiting in her room and noted her absence as irregular. When it came to Kleio’s relationship with her girls, it was rare that Avadiel didn’t take the opportunity to demonstrate where her prophet’s loyalty truly fell.

  Bristling, Avadiel stepped to the wardrobe, leaving the cutting remarks hanging in the air between them. But, from the force in which she threw the doors open, Verity had hit their mark. Flicking through the options harder than necessary, she yanked out a suitable choice for the Crown Impera — a glitzy, beaded dress made from sheer material stacked in layers falling to the knee. Next, she opened a drawer to retrieve a flat, square-hinged box.

  Shoving the box at her with both hands, it hovered between them as Avadiel waited for Verity to take it. “Do not resist your place in this world, Verity. You may not like it, but it’s not going to change. The sooner you accept that—”

  Verity jerked the box and the dress from her mother’s hands and tossed them aside on the bed, flicking her eyes to the door indicating for Avadiel to leave. “Don’t send the attendant. I can change by myself.”

  Mulling the request for a moment, Avadiel shifted to move to the door, pausing slightly to mention, “I’ll be waiting outside the door.”

  When the door slammed again, Verity felt like she’d barely escaped with her life. “Merciful universe… that was too close.”

  Verity quickly unzipped the leather jacket and caught the book when it fell away from her chest. Stowing it away for safekeeping, Verity placed it alongside her other contraband in the base of a false bottom drawer she’d constructed under her window seat. As dangerous as her new acquisition was, it was hardly the most dangerous book in her possession. If Avadiel ever discovered the journal that had inspired this obsession, Avadiel would find out that her loyal prophet was the one who had given it to Verity in the first place.

  Disappointed she didn’t have time to consume the book immediately, she begrudgingly returned to the garment and the box she’d thrown on the bed. Flipping open the lid, she removed the tiara she was expected to wear to these types of political gatherings— the one that singled her out as Heir Apparent, as if anyone needed a reminder, including herself. Examining it for a moment, she looked from it to the gown laid out for her.

  No. This simply wouldn’t do.

  When Verity came out of her room wearing wide-leg trousers held up by matching suspenders over a slightly unbuttoned silk blouse, Avadiel denied her the satisfaction of a reaction. Perhaps that was because she had placated her by wearing the tiara, but only because she liked the juxtaposition between the hardness of her fitted, practical outfit and the delicacy of the metalwork crowning her head. Let it then be a constant reminder that her existence was of contradiction. She was the first Scion of the Graced Avadiel, after all. A daughter of chaos. In that, she knew exactly who and what she was.