Chapter 1

Behind him, wedding banners hung between the blackstone pillars. My family crest beside his.

One perfect lie stitched between them.

The court went silent.

Then somebody laughed.

Marek turned toward me with that careful, wounded look he used whenever he wanted the crowd to think he was the victim. His silver uniform was spotless. His white gloves were clean.

Not a single mark on him.

Not even after he'd dragged me before the Directorate like a criminal.

"Helen," he said, softer now. "You heard the charge. Don't make this uglier than it has to be."

I looked at the crystal in my hand. "You broke our engagement in front of the entire court, and I'm the one making it ugly?"

"You were promised to me under false information."

"False information?"

"Your family hid your bloodline. They hid your dealings with the ash rebels. They hid the weapons orders signed in your name."

A murmur rolled through the nobles.

My mother sat beneath the Directorate seal, pale and stiff. My father wouldn't look at me.

Of course he wouldn't.

He'd already given Marek permission to cut the Shadow Core out of my chest once the trial ended.

They'd done it in my first life.

I remembered the table. The silver restraints. My father's hand crushing my shoulder down while Marek watched from the doorway.

Not today.

I stepped closer to the microphone. "Tell them the rest."

Marek's jaw tightened. "There is no rest."

"There's always a rest when you lie this badly."

Several nobles gasped. Someone muttered my name like I'd slapped the Directorate itself.

Marek caught my wrist before I could pull away.

From a distance, his grip looked gentle. His fingers dug into the soft place below my thumb.

"Confess," he whispered. "Say you sold the border routes to the rebels. Say you acted alone. I'll make sure your death is quick."

I stared at his hand.

"You mean you'll keep your family's name clean."

"You don't have the power to bargain."

"No?" I leaned closer until my shoulder brushed his chest. "Then why did you steal my command seal?"

His face changed.

Only for half a second.

That was all I needed.

I slammed the engagement crystal against the edge of the microphone stand.

It cracked with a sharp pop.

Marek jerked back. "What the hell are you doing?"

I hit it again.

The crystal shattered in my palm. Heat sliced through my skin. Blood slipped between my fingers and dripped onto the blackstone platform.

The court erupted.

"Stop her!"

"She's destroying evidence!"

"Get the guards!"

Marek reached for my arm, but I twisted hard and drove my elbow into his ribs. He stumbled into the wedding table.

Silver cups crashed across the floor.

"You should've checked the crystal before you used it," I said.

He pressed a hand to his side. "Helen. Don't be stupid."

"I'm done being useful."

I opened my bleeding hand over the broken pieces.

The shards lit up.

A blue-white projection burst above the platform, shaking hard enough to make the air hum. A sealed Directorate order appeared overhead.

The signature at the bottom belonged to Marek Voss.

The crowd fell silent again.

I lifted my chin. "Order seven-fourteen. Six hundred blood cannons transferred to the ash rebels. Payment received from Voss Armories. Delivery route approved by Commander Marek Voss."

The projection spun, showing the command seal and the timestamp.

Marek stared at it.

"That's forged," he snapped.

"Then why is your private seal on every page?"

"You stole it."

"From where? Your locked war room? The one I couldn't enter unless you were standing behind me?"

His eyes flashed toward the Directorate.

There it was.

The calculation. Who could he sacrifice? Which lie would save him?

I'd seen that look before. I'd watched him wear it while my family cut me open.

Marek turned back to the court. "She planned this. Helen Vale has always been obsessed with military maps. She took my seal, created a false order, and sold the copies to the rebels."

"You just said the seal was stolen. Now you're saying I used it? Pick a lie."

"Guards!"

Two armored officers rushed onto the platform.

I backed away, my bloody hand closing around the last crystal shard. It bit into my palm.

Good.

Pain kept me sharp.

"Helen Vale," the High Director announced, "you are charged with treason, conspiracy, and unlawful interference with a Directorate investigation. Kneel and surrender your weapon."

I held up the shard. "This isn't a weapon."

"Drop it."

"It's the only reason your court can see the truth."

The High Director's mouth flattened. "Kneel."

Marek stepped toward me, one hand still pressed to his ribs. His voice dropped low enough for only me to hear.

"You can still fix this. Confess, and I'll tell them I was deceived. You'll be sent beyond the ash frontier instead of executed here."

"You call that fixing it?"

"It's mercy."

"No. It's fear."

His nostrils flared.

I smiled without warmth. "You know what happens if they compare the transfer orders? They'll find the second seal. The one you used to reroute the cannons after the rebels paid you."

Marek went very still.

"You don't have the second seal," he said.

"I don't need it. I have the ledger."

That was a lie.

The ledger was still hidden beneath the loose stone in my old room. But Marek didn't know that.

In my first life, he'd told me exactly where he kept the duplicate records before he handed me over to my family. He'd been proud of himself.

He'd wanted me to understand how completely he'd won.

This time, I'd spent three years waiting for this platform.

Marek's gaze snapped toward the Directorate.

"Search her," he ordered. "She's carrying rebel documents."

One of the guards grabbed my shoulder.

I drove the crystal shard into the seam of his gauntlet.

He shouted and let go.

The second guard reached for my throat, but a figure moved beneath the execution arch.

Rafe Dain.

The exiled warlord had been standing there with his wrists bound in black iron. He wore no court colors, only a dark coat pulled tight across his broad shoulders.

A scar ran from his left temple to the corner of his mouth.

His eyes stayed on me—steady, cold, impossible to read—while the court screamed around us.

Marek noticed him too.

"Keep the exile chained," he barked. "He has no authority here."

Rafe's mouth barely moved. "You keep saying that like it makes it true."

His voice carried across the platform without effort.

Marek pointed at him. "You were stripped of rank and title. Speak again, and I'll add contempt to your charges."

"Add whatever helps you sleep."

The guard beside me raised his weapon.

I stepped between the blade and my chest. "Marek, if you kill me before the order is verified, the projection broadcasts to every district station."

His eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't risk that."

"I already did."

The blue projection shuddered above us.

Then it split.

A dozen floating panes spun into place, each one turning toward a different section of the court.

The nobles started shouting over one another.

"Shut it down!"

"Director, stop the transmission!"

"The Voss seal is authentic!"

Marek crossed the distance between us in two strides.

His hand clamped around my waist and yanked me against him.

My back hit his chest. His breath brushed my ear, hot and sharp with anger. The clean scent of his uniform couldn't cover the sweat beneath it.

"Where is the ledger?" he whispered.

"Go to hell."

His fingers tightened against my ribs. "You think Rafe Dain will save you? He can't even save himself."

I turned my head just enough to meet his eyes.

"I don't need him to save me. I need him to ruin you."

Marek shoved me away.

The High Director rose from his seat. "Activate the blood cannon."

The court exploded into panic.

For one stupid second, I froze.

Blood cannons were used at the frontier. They didn't fire ordinary metal. They locked onto a person's blood signature and burned through bone, armor, and Shadow Core in one shot.

My mother shot to her feet. "Director, the girl hasn't been tried."

"The evidence is compromised," the High Director said. "Execute her before the rebel transmission spreads."

Marek's face went blank with relief.

"Helen," he called, backing away from me. "Confess now."

"You're going to kill me because your paperwork is real?"

"I'm going to save the court from your treason."

"You mean you're going to bury the witness."

A deep metal click sounded beneath the platform.

The blood cannon rose from the blackstone floor.

Its barrel unfolded in three sections. Red light burned at the core of each one.

Guards scattered. Nobles shoved toward the exits. The Directorate members stayed seated, watching me like I was already dead.

The cannon turned.

A thin red line crossed my chest.

Marek lifted his hand. "Helen Vale, kneel and confess."

I looked at the red light, then at the man who'd once promised to put a ring on my finger.

"Marek," I said, "you should've killed me before I remembered everything."

The cannon locked with a violent snap.

My lungs stopped.

Rafe moved.

The black iron around his wrists broke with a sound like a rifle shot. He crossed the platform before the guards could raise their weapons.

His hand closed around mine.

Hot. Hard. His blood smeared over the cut in my palm.

The cannon screamed.

Rafe pulled me against his chest. His coat scraped my cheek. His heartbeat slammed beneath my ear, fast and brutal, nothing like the calm man he'd pretended to be.

His mouth brushed the shell of my ear.

"Don't move," he said, his voice rough. "That shot isn't locked to your heart, Helen. It's linked to the Blackstone Throne—and if it fires, it will—"