The departure from the Solar Palace was not a grand procession; it was an exodus of desperation.
Before the first rays of the desert sun could strike the frost-covered walls of the Crystal Ward, Kassian stood in the private courtyard, his face a mask of granite and fire. Before him stood Grand Duchess Selene, the "Iron Lady". She was a woman who looked as if she had been forged from the same obsidian as the palace floors—elegant, unyielding, and terrifyingly sharp.
"You are leaving your throne for a thief, Kassian," Selene said, her voice like the clicking of a loaded crossbow. She didn't look at the massive, iron-reinforced caravan behind him. She looked at her nephew, searching for the boy she had taught to hunt in the dunes. "Lysander is already counting the stones of the Sun-Throne. The moment your heels clear the city gates, the snakes will begin to hiss."
