The door slammed shut behind us with a resounding finality that echoed through the massive lounge. I took one look around and let out a sigh. This was definitely not how I imagined my triumphant return to Ostonia would be. Trapped in an old room with Azriel, waiting for the rest of Gaia’s supposedly “chosen successors” to join us.

Azriel strolled over to the bar and examined the refreshments. He raised a glass of something suspiciously bubbly in my direction. “Champagne, Your Eminence?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’d rather drink pond water.”

He shrugged, poured himself a glass, and took a sip. “Suit yourself. Honestly, I was hoping this whole “chosen successor” gig would come with a better selection of beverages. But it seems Gaia’s will doesn’t extend to good taste in refreshments.”

I walked over to one of the couches and dropped into it unceremoniously. The cushions were surprisingly comfortable, and for a moment, I considered the possibility of just falling asleep right there, letting the world deal with itself. Of course, that wasn’t an option, not with Azriel around, ready to pester me every chance he got.

“So, Celeste,” Azriel began, sauntering over and plopping down on the couch opposite mine. “What do you think the council will do about your selection?”

I stared at him blankly for a moment. “Probably decide which one of the Great Houses to sacrifice me to, to appease the restless spirits of tradition. No chance they will allow me this role.”

He smirked. “That’s quite the theory. Though, if I’m being honest, I’d bet they’re more concerned about how to convince the sovereignty not to accept Gaia’s selection. I mean, everyone but the Great Houses will welcome you as successor. In truth, Wridel might be ready for a change and a new house to rule, and that is their biggest fear.”

He wasn’t wrong. The Great Houses didn’t exactly have a fan club in the Sovereignty. Too high-handed, too pompous, and just full of themselves. Take the House of Gaines, those mind-benders, or the House of D—Quan, the so-called great house of the Faes; they were both masters of pretension. Only they would think Gaia’s selection was beneath them. The more I thought about it, the more irritated I got. What right did any of them have to reject me?

Azriel swirled his drink thoughtfully. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think Gaia picked you just to watch the chaos unfold. It’s almost poetic.”

“Yeah, if by “poetic” you mean a total mess,” I shot back. “But maybe that’s exactly what is needed. Order and chaos walk hand-in-hand. Gaia’s will is for someone unpredictable enough to keep the houses on their toes.”

Azriel tilted his head, considering my words. “Or maybe the great goddess just wanted to watch you suffer. You know, keep the entertainment value high.”

I laughed. “If that’s the case, she’s doing a fantastic job so far.”

We lapsed into silence, the flickering light above keeping me wide awake. For a moment, it almost felt peaceful. If you could ignore the looming threat of political assassination long enough, that is.

Azriel broke the quiet, his voice lower this time. “Do you think Zaria will be chosen as a successor?”

I hesitated, my gaze drifting to the closed door. Zaria was strong, one of the strongest water witches I’d ever known, although she was not in league with Azriel or me. But she had more control over her magic than most Orientals, and she deserved a place among the governors or at least in the regional council. But this wasn’t about what people deserved. It never was. Politics found a way to ruin things.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I hope so. But with the way bloodlines work, who knows?”

Azriel nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess we just have to wait and see.”

And there it was—the waiting game. It seemed like every part of my life lately was about waiting. Waiting for decisions, waiting for answers, waiting for some grand revelation that would make all of this make sense. But I wasn’t holding my breath. I’d learned a long time ago that life didn’t come with easy answers or satisfying explanations.

“Want to play a board game while we wait?” Azriel’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked over at him, eyebrow raised.

“Are you serious?”

He held up a chess set, waggling his eyebrows. “Come on, it’s either this or we sit in silence because you never want to have a conversation with me without Zaria around.”

“That is not true,” I almost retorted, even though it was.

“Okay then, let’s talk.” Azriel smiled, and I swallowed as I watched him. “Here’s something I’m sure you haven’t considered since you graduated and have been named the Supreme Successor. You are twenty-three now, which means you are of marrying age. Political alliances are often formed through marriage, and you wouldn’t even get home before suitors come knocking.”

I exhaled heavily. “This is why I never want to talk to you.”

“Ah, so you admit it!” He clapped like he’d caught a thief.

“Do not clap your despicable hands at me, Azriel!” I frowned.

He feigned a gasp. “How dare you?”

I turned away from him with a chuckle. He can be so goofy at times that it was hard not to like him. “But you’re right. I haven’t considered it.” And I didn’t want to, because then I would have to think of Azriel as a suitor too.

Azriel leaned back, the smirk still on his face. “Well, you better start considering it. You’re about to be thrust into the thick of politics. I suppose your parents know how to handle this, so you’re in good hands. Besides,” he added, with a gleam in his eyes, “you could do worse than me as a husband.”

I snorted. “Oh, please. I can think of a dozen things worse than marrying you—like dying of embarrassment, for one.”

He laughed, and the sound echoed around the empty lounge. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I shook my head, unwilling to dignify that with a response. Instead, I looked away, focusing on the flickering light above. Marriage and politics were things I did not want. But then again, when had I ever had a choice in any of this?

The door at the far end of the lounge creaked open, and both Azriel and I turned our heads. Lady Bernadette stepped inside.

“The council has convened. You will follow me,” she said.

“No other successors were selected?” I asked in disbelief.

“The selection has been postponed by the council. They will see the two of you now. Come along,” she replied.

Azriel pushed himself up from the couch, and we followed her out of the lounge. Cancelling the entire selection was definitely a bad sign. The fact that they got here so quickly, even through the gates? Another bad sign. I combed my fingers through my hair, taking a deep, cleansing breath.

Azriel fell into step beside me. “Just think,” he said, “this could be the start of something big.”

I glanced sideways at him, my mouth twitching into a reluctant smile. “Yeah, or the end of everything. Either way, it’ll be entertaining.”

“Do you always expect the worst from everything?” he asked.

“I expect what can be expected. The good and the bad, so I am not surprised when either happens. It is how I believe everyone should be. If life is a balance of two sides, isn’t it fair to expect either or, as opposed to always expecting good?” I explained to him.

He stared my way for a while without saying anything, and when I looked over at him, he smiled. “If you ask me, I think Gaia made an excellent choice, choosing you as the Supreme Successor.”

I didn’t respond, but I allowed myself a small smile. Maybe Azriel was right, or maybe he was just mad.