For a moment, my feet were rooted to the floorboards backstage. The roar of the crowd, the frantic flashing of cameras, the ghost of Julian’s screams—it was all a distant, muffled cacophony. The only thing real was Alistair’s hand, extended into the light, and his voice, which had cut through the chaos to find me in the dark.
*Come and claim your throne.*
My throne wasn't a gilded chair. It was that terrifying, hallowed space in the center of the world's most famous stage. It was the air between my bow and the strings of a legend.
My lungs remembered how to work. I took a breath. Then a step.
The world narrowed to a tunnel of blinding white light. The polished wood of the stage was slick beneath the soles of my silk shoes. With each step, the ambient noise of the hall focused, sharpene
