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permission to approach, or even stop to think for a moment that she might be interrupting something important. Carelessly, just barely avoiding my epaulettes, she throws her arms around me with a hearty laugh.
    “Oh, my beautiful girl! What a vision you are!” When she pulls away, she bats Father lightly in the shoulder. “How did an oaf like you manage to raise such a radiant woman, Audric? She’s stunning!”
    Father laughs. “She gets all her charm from Keira. I’m afraid all she gets from me is her stubbornness.”
    “And your sense of adventure,” I add, which makes Father still, his eyes softening. It’s a strange moment; a slow one wherehe trails his eyes over me, then onto the crown, as though seeing me in it for the first time. When he smiles again, it’s warm with pride and heats my blood.
    “And my sense of adventure.” He turns to his sister and claps her on the shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, I should find my wife before the ceremony, but bring Jordi and Yuriel by and we’ll celebrate with some wine afterward. I’ve three barrels reserved just for us.” He grins toothily, looking like the silly older brother I only see him be when my aunt’s around.
    “And Amora?” he adds quietly. I turn, nearly flinching back when he bows his head to me. “I love you. Remember that after tonight, won’t you? Once you’re officially the heir and are off on all those grand adventures of yours.”
    “Don’t go getting all sappy on me now,” I tell him, trying to hide my embarrassment. “I love you, too.”
    His smile is soft as he bends to kiss my forehead. The teeth of the eel crown graze my cheek.
    And then Father’s gone, leaving my aunt in his place.
    She’s lovely in a gown of soft blue. It’s a statement gown—a mix of Arida’s sapphire and Mornute’s soft hues. It says she understands her roots are with Arida, but that it’s no longer her home. She’s a small woman with olive skin similar to Father’s, deeply tanned and brushed with gold from so much time spent in the sun. She’s plump and youthful, with only the soft wrinkles around her eyes hinting at her age.
    “I’m so glad I found you before the performance,” Aunt Kalea says. “How do you feel?”
    For as long as I can remember, Aunt Kalea’s hands have always been the softest, warmest ones I’ve ever known. She cups them around my arms, holding me close so she can inspect me with molten eyes. They’re the same eyes as Father’s, but significantly less stern. And though she does well at masking her expression, worry rests in the tightness of her breaths and thehitch of her words. If she’s to keep her lavish life on Mornute, she can’t afford for me to make any mistakes tonight. And I can’t afford to, either.
    Should I fail to demonstrate control over my magic and prove I’ve tamed the beast within me, I’ll be held until Aunt Kalea’s proven she can become the throne’s successor. Given that the law dictates a Montara without fully controlled soul magic cannot remain free, I can’t ignore the possibility that I could even be executed if I’m deemed too much of a risk. Our magic is too dangerous to not be fully controlled.
    “Like I’ve been training my whole life for this,” I say. Aunt Kalea searches my eyes for another long moment, and there’s a flash of concern before she pulls me in for a firm hug.
    “You can do this,” she whispers, her thick curls tickling my neck. “No one’s more ready for this than you.”
    Though I know she’s right, the anxiety that’s been gnawing at me since the puppet show is building. I force myself to smile at her, trying to snuff it out.
    Only after Aunt Kalea draws back does Casem hesitantly step forward. “I don’t mean to rush you,” he says, “but it’s time for Amora to get going.”
    “Of course.” Aunt Kalea nods, tucking a soft brown curl behind her ear. I try not to stare at the lines of concern crinkled between her brows, or think about how both our