The Shattered Way (Champions of the Crystal Book 7)

Chapter 1: Changes

Cover by D. Denise Dianaty

Cold air seeping into the sitting room from the hallway signaled that the front door of the house had been opened. The draft tickled Sabrina Devon's cheek, rousing her from her near-stupor in a comfortable chair by the ancient and regrettably unusable fireplace. Citizen Dhshar, sitting ramrod straight in a chair opposite her, was oblivious, still making his pitch—lifted directly from his stump speech, she thought uncharitably. Her cat, Tristan, noticed the draft, though; he raised his head from her lap and gave an irritated half-meow, half-chirp. He seemed to sense his nemesis' approach almost as clearly as Sabrina but without benefit of a link. She smiled a little and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry, Citizen Dhshar, but I'm afraid I am not free to enter any political commitments at this time," she interrupted. "Though of course I am very flattered by your proposal, and I wish you the best of luck in the election."

"You've no interest in becoming Minister for Galactic Affairs?" Dhshar smiled. "Or you think we have no chance?"

Sabrina returned the smile a little sharply. "My answer should not be construed to mean either of those things, Citizen. It means simply what it means: I cannot commit to any political party at this time. For personal reasons."

"Ah." He leaned back in his chair instead of rising, as she'd hoped. She was tempted to send out a mental plea for assistance, but footsteps in the hallway told her there was no need.

A moment later Niavar, Prince of Bathir—also known as Ford—strode into the room, not bothering to look surprised at Sabrina's visitor. "Ah, Citizen Dhshar," he said. "Welcome. I hope the staff made you feel at home—I rarely have the chance to entertain here."

Sabrina hid a smirk. "Here" was Ford's rather ramshackle house in the remote Justdaan Peninsula at the southern tip of the continent of Bahgheir, and he had had to import two very unhappy staff members from the palace at Bathir to make it habitable. More would have been helpful, but there was simply no room. Ford had sworn he was going to sell this house at least twice since their arrival yesterday evening, but it was convenient for the purpose of their current stay.

"Yes, thank you, your royal highness," Dhshar said, getting to his feet politely.

Ford pointedly did not invite him to sit down again. "I'm afraid Lady Sabrina is about to be late for an appointment, but thank you for stopping by to keep her company while I was out."

Dhshar gave his wide smile, looking out of place in his narrow, lined face, again. "It was my pleasure, your highness. After all, Sô Bahgheir rarely has the chance to host such illustrious guests. Do give the bride and groom my congratulations. I very much regret having to miss the wedding!"

Probably wasn't invited, Ford thought.

Probably not. Ranja promised me this wasn't a political event, Sabrina replied. Aloud she said, "Oh my goodness, look at the time. I'm sorry to have kept you occupied so long, Citizen—I know you are busy!"

You're a lousy actress.

Shut up and send him away. He's given me a headache.

"Yes, well," Dhshar said, oblivious to their silent exchange, "the campaign trail requires a demanding schedule. Thank you for seeing me, Lady Sabrina. And I hope if you change your mind, you will let me know."

"Certainly," Sabrina said. She knew she ought to rise but felt physically unable. "Forgive my not seeing you out, but my cat is very temperamental about having his peace disturbed." She prayed Tristan wouldn't choose that moment to jump down and run off.

"He certainly is," Ford grumbled.

"Do not trouble yourself," Dhshar said. "I can find my way. I wish you both a good evening!"