Fortune Favors the Bold

49

Kalani stared forward. She was dressed in a simply white gown of satin fabric that fall modestly to the ground. Its short sleeves had been perfectly sewn to comfortably hug her shoulders and upper arms. The round neckline covered her chest modestly.

Her black hair had grown past her shoulders and laid against her shoulders in a perfectly straightened style. A few shorter strands lay against her forehead but failed to reach past her dark eyebrows. Their thick shade matched those of her gently combed and mascara-painted eyelashes.

The only makeup that had been applied to her skin served to mask the darkness that had formed around her eyes. A brush of lipstick offered a bold dark red color to her lips. To all the civilians crowded beneath, the girl appeared to fit with all the powerful tales they'd created to identify her with –all of which were false. Even after she'd been identified as Kalani Makoa of Vlasteri, they continued to know nothing about her.

She never spoke. They'd never heard her voice.

She only stood there with her hands clasped behind her back and a neutral expression. Her eyes were dark when she watched over them. Many wondered why a woman so cruel had saved millions of lives whom her expression betrayed nothing but hate for. They didn't know what she went through. In Kalani's heart, there was no hatred.

There was silence.

There was pain.

Beside her, Nashid Ericson stood in similar silence. He wore a white suit and stared ahead; his hair pulled into a neat bun above his head. His hands were also held behind his back and his eyes set forward, but more was known about him.

The man who'd lost his wife to previous tainted systems. Now, he'd been elected Head of Civil Justice by the country's new leaders.

In front of them, the thirteen magistrates formed a line alongside one another. The pedestal previously used to raise the Chancellor had been removed and the podium shortened. All of them were dressed in white, only accented by the colors of the necklaces they wore to identify which province they each originated from.

Kalani recognized the purple of Orimasi on two of the magistrates' necks: Junfeng and Aurora. Two wore the green color of Akmazon: Chidi and Hiromi. The blue sapphire sat on the collars of four magistrates, symbolizing the Filarko –the same province Nashid was from: Tamara and Assad. Two wore the yellow color of Spora: Mason and Alaska. The remaining three magistrates bore the red of Vlasteri: Adrian.

In the center, Marina spoke into the microphone.

"The resurrection will be no more," she spoke calmly, her tone carrying power that hid the young age of the magistrates. Her eyes slipped over the quiet crowd in front of them. "You have been heard."

But Kalani hardly heard her. She was stuck in her thoughts again the same way she'd found her mind wandering over the past months. No matter how many worries formed or how many topics occupied her train of thought, it always returned to the same thought.

Him.

"The sacrifices made by Adrian Scevola to deliver you the truth and avenge the unjust deaths of all those before will never be forgotten," Marina spoke. At the sound of his name, Kalani pulled in an even breath, her attention immediately fleeing away to the images she'd carved into her mind of the man she loved.

She remembered the way he'd subtly smiled at her during their first meetings when he believed she wasn't looking. Her heart skipped a beat at the memory of how he'd lowered his eyes to the ground and looked down in an attempt to mask the expression. The way his hair shifted to fall over his forehead.