Chapter One
The Executioner's Silence
The silk of Elara's gown was the color of a dying sunset, but the shadows beneath her skin were as black as the void. She stood on the balcony of the Obsidian Citadel, watching the sun dip below the jagged teeth of the Ignis Mountains.
"You're late, Commander," she said to the empty room behind her. She didn't turn around. She didn't want him to see her hands trembling.
Caspian Vane stepped out of the velvet shadows of the foyer — six feet of lethal muscle and scarred plate, his hand resting casually on the hilt of Sunspear, the blade that had tasted the blood of three rebel kings.
"I am never late, Princess. I was merely deciding which part of this room would be the cleanest place for your head to land."