A few low murmurs broke out, and she spoke over them. “I asked General Jordan to gather you here because I knew you wouldn’t fight for me, that you’re tired of risking your lives to defend my colony.” She held up the data tablet she’d taken from Jordan’s desk. “Which is why I’m offering to make it your colony. I had intended to give Eturia to the people—slowly, over time. I still believe a gradual transition is best, but if this is what it takes to save us, I’ll make the change now.”
The general joined her again. “Miss Rose has drafted an amendment to the charter that will dissolve the monarchy and establish an election to choose new leadership to govern the four previous kingdoms as one republic.”
“And my name will be on that ballot,” she said with a sharp look at Jordan.
“As will mine,” he countered with a challenging gaze of his own.
A faint voice from below called, “Mine too,” and the crowd parted to reveal Kane’s mother sitting with her back against the barn wall, her face gray and streaked with sweat. “If I recover in time.”
“You will,” Cassia promised, then added, “Commander.”
She knew she’d guessed correctly when Jordan stiffened by her side. Her main clue had been the activity surrounding the farm: meetings, transmissions, and the ammonium nitrate purchased with Kane’s account. She’d briefly considered the farmer as the leader, but Rena had more inside knowledge of how the palace used to run, not to mention a natural charisma that was easily applied to politics. And given how the royals had left her unemployed and homeless after a lifetime of service to the monarchy, she would be plenty motivated to overturn the old system.
Cassia returned her attention to the rebels. “As for the rest of you, I’m prepared to sign this amendment into law as my last act as reigning queen, if you’ll agree to join what’s left of my soldiers in an attack on Marius tonight.”
A man from the group shouted, “You don’t have the authority to amend the charter.”
“That’s true,” she admitted. “In order to make Eturia a free republic, either Marius has to cosign this amendment…or he has to die.” She set her jaw. “If we work together, we can make one of those things happen by dawn. General Jordan and I have formed a strategy. All I need is your support to set it in motion.”
“What do you say?” Jordan asked the rebels.
“How do we know she won’t renege?” shouted the same man.
Cassia held up her finger, which she could prick and touch to the tablet for a legally binding DNA signature. “Say yes and I’ll sign it right now.”
But no one said yes.
Men and women glanced warily at one another while shifting on their feet. Cassia sensed that some of them agreed with her, but nobody seemed to want to be the first to say it. The silence continued until Kane’s mother raised her hand and said, “Aye.” Hers was the only confident face in the crowd. The farmer by her side nodded and echoed the vote. Then Jordan did the same. One group at a time, the others turned to Rena with a look of unmistakable respect, and the ayes carried around the barn in a sweeping vote until the majority’s will became clear.
They would fight—not for the throne, but for themselves.
Cassia would take it.
That night she gave her husband exactly what he’d asked for: all twenty of his confiscated missiles, each disabled and strapped to a long, open barge that offered no hiding places for her troops. In keeping with his demands, she piloted the barge shuttle by herself, not bothering to conceal any weapons under her clothes. Marius wasn’t an idiot. After what she’d pulled on their wedding night, he would have every crevice of her body scanned before coming anywhere near her.
When she reached the Durango border, she obediently stopped for inspection. The guards conducted a thorough search of the craft—not to mention her body—and discovered no traces of weaponry, so they radioed Marius and reported back with instructions for Cassia to land the barge at the armory, where a private shuttle would deliver her to the palace. She didn’t delay. Within the hour, her barge and all its missiles rested on armory grounds.
As she climbed down from the pilot’s seat, she scanned her surroundings by the light of the gathering moon. The Durango armory consisted of six metal sheds that led to underground bunkers, where weapons were stored safely out of range of enemy mortar. Several layers of fencing and shields surrounded the area, beyond which stood the soldiers’ barracks and, about a mile beyond that, Marius’s palace. She committed the layout to memory and strode alongside two armed escorts to a shuttle idling nearby.
“New destination,” one of the guards told the pilot. “Take her to the lab.”
Cassia’s heart jumped. That wasn’t part of the plan. “I want to see my husband,” she demanded. “Deliver me to the palace first. Then we can go to the—”
The guard shoved her inside and slammed the door shut.