In the wake of the Thalestris family's dramatic overthrow, the fate of Romanov hangs in the balance. For the Revolutionaries, the royal family's fall from grace marks the end of tyranny. For the royalists, it is the beginning of unrestrained chaos.
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The sky bled with fire. Cheers swelled, the voices echoing as Octavia stood with her shoulders back, watching the flames spread across the palace walls. A dragon swooped down, talons knocking over a stone tower that toppled with a resounding crash.
"Freedom!" someone in the crowd screamed, and the dragon shot back into the sky, its scales glistening a dark violet as it vanished into a black cloud of smoke.
From beside her, Antonia sobbed, falling to her knees. The chains around her wrists clinked. Octavia pursed her lips. She didn't reach down to comfort her sister. She didn't do anything. She remained unmoving, eyes fixed on the flames.
"Your turn to kneel."
Octavia looked over her shoulder. A man stood behind her, a chalky orange dousing his hands from his fingers to up past his wrists. Fire magic.
At the flick of his fingers, the flames surrounding the castle burned brighter. Octavia's jaw tightened. The man wore the red and gold uniform of the royal guard. Given how expensive and rare the fire magic was, he had likely stolen it from Octavia's personal collection when ransacking the castle.
"Kneel?" she repeated, letting her eyes flick to where her sister was still crying. Part of her wanted to scream at her to keep quiet. Another part of her wanted to burn all those responsible for making her cry. "The princess isn't kneeling. She's grieving." Octavia jutted out her chin. "You can rest assured," she said, keeping her voice level as she raised her chained wrists. "The blood of Thalestris does not kneel."
The man scoffed his expression a mixture of amusement and disgust. "The blood of Thalestris no longer means anything to anyone."
That was a lie. They both knew it. These traitors might run Octavia's family out of their castle. They might burn their home. They might claim to usher in a new era, a new government, a new way of life, but they could not erase them. Not completely.
"If our blood means nothing," she said, turning back to study the flames, "then why do you care if we kneel?"
From above, there was a shuddering roar. The dragon had returned, a boy giving a battle cry from its back as the beast dove back towards the ground. A burst of wind came over them as the dragon's wings flapped, sending the flames flickering.
Octavia kept still, but her brother gasped from her other side. Instinctively, she grabbed his arm. It was awkward with her hands bound in chains, but she turned her body to grip him, leaning down to whisper, "Trajan, do not show fear."
Trajan swallowed hard. At ten years old, he should be playing in the gardens. Octavia wished he could have that peace. Not here. Seeing this. He looked far too small in the wake of the chaos, his lip bleeding and hands clenched into fists to keep from shaking.
"Is that dragon going to eat us?" Trajan whispered.
Octavia glanced to where their parents stood a few feet away. Neither had reacted to the violence, but she could sense their fear all the same.
