Inwardly, I recoiled, but somehow managed to nod, turning my back to the two of them, so they couldn’t see the strain on my face.

Fear and confusion I could understand. Change was frightening for everyone. The integrations were tricky. Former Counsel people didn’t want those who’d been born of the Vendor class living next door to them, didn’t want their children going to the same schools. And Vendors didn’t want to live among servants.

I didn’t know how to make them understand that class no longer mattered. That everyone was equal. People living with people. Children attending school with children.

It still astounded me that anyone would want to go back to the old ways. To curfews and segregation and being told where, when, and what they could speak. To live in fear of being sent to the gallows for miscalculating a simple glance.

“Maybe Max was right, maybe Ludania needs me here. Maybe I’m not ready for such a”—I closed my eyes, having a hard time forming the words—“such an important task.”

Xander’s reaction was not at all what I’d expected. I thought he might give me a pep talk, assure me that, of course, I was ready. Say something—anything—to allay my concerns, the way Max had done.

But Xander wasn’t Max. Xander was hard. He was steely and determined, and rarely minced words. He’d turned his back on his family because he wanted a different kind of life. He’d led his friends and comrades into battle, watching some of them die for his cause. And he had the scars to prove it.

Literally, I thought as he came to stand in front of me, and I noticed, for the first time in a very long time, the scar that slashed across his face. Normally, I didn’t even see it. It had become invisible to me.

Today, it was all I could look at.

“We don’t have time for you to be ‘tired.’” His voice was low, but firm. “You’re a queen, not a child. Start acting like one.”

Zafir took a warning step toward Xander, but I raised my hand to stop him. I didn’t need his help. I lifted my chin. Fire beat through my veins now.

“I’m your queen, in case you’ve forgotten. You can’t speak to me like that, Xander. Not now. Not ever.” I met his gaze directly now, daring him to challenge me. I hated saying the words and my throat constricted around them even as they spilled from my lips, a harsh admonition.

Xander grinned then, a wide, self-satisfied grin that made the scar across his cheek pucker like a shiny smirk.

I crossed my arms, trying to maintain my anger, but too baffled by his reaction. One minute he was yelling at me, the next he was smiling like a fool.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” he stated crisply, succinctly. “But that’s exactly the kind of queen you need to be when you go to the summit.”

My frown deepened.

Xander reached for my hand, and even without looking I could feel Zafir stiffening. His protective nature was rivaled only by Eden’s. Xander’s fingers felt like the coarse polishing cloths used by cabinetmakers to buff wooden edges until they were smooth and ready to be finished. Hands that had toiled and warred.

His voice was softer now, and for a moment I understood the reason that Eden’s moods shifted whenever Xander was near. I wondered if he spoke to her like this. If, when they were alone, he ever used the persuasive tone he was using on me. “A queen needs to be strong and resolute. She can’t let others push her around, Your Majesty.” The inflection he put behind those two words—words I generally despised—gave them a whole new meaning. They sounded fresh and new, like a breaking dawn might sound. Like a pledge. Goose bumps shivered over my arms, but I didn’t move to rub them away. I held his gaze. “You,” he said, bowing all the way to the ground before me, “are becoming a true queen.”

vi

The vehicle came to a sudden stop in front of the large, polished school building and my fingers edged up to the glass that separated me from the real world. I told myself I could do this, even as my hands trembled.

“I never thought I’d be here again,” I said breathlessly, more to myself than to anyone else. I was surprised, standing there now, to realize that so little had changed in the past months, despite the fact that everything was different now. The school looked exactly as it had before. Even the name was the same: the Academy.

Except that starting today there were no more restrictions on who could attend. Everyone would be allowed. Children born of all classes, who’d once been segregated by birthright, now clustered and converged on the smooth marbled steps, making their way toward the entrance.

I’d gazed upon this particular building so many times before, and even though it had once conjured feelings of disgust and envy in me, a sudden, inexplicable wave of nostalgia flashed through me as I stared out at it.

Crowds were already gathered in front, squeezed together on the sprawling lawns and spilling out into the streets, body against body as far as I could see. I knew they weren’t here to see the doors of the school opened. They were all awaiting their first glimpse of their queen.

“You’re ready,” Brooklynn assured me, her fingers finding my shoulder. I ignored the quiver in her voice and wondered if she felt what I had, the same sense that we still didn’t belong here.

I simply nodded and reaching down to release the door. Zafir was already on the other side of it, waiting to shield me as much as to escort me up the steps.

Brooklynn remained behind me. I suddenly wished I hadn’t insisted that Max stay behind with Xander to work on preparations for the summit. I wished, too, that my parents were here just to hold my hand and comfort me.