Soren

Patton limps down the wide, golden hallway somewhere on the fourth floor. He’s dressed in a brand-new tuxedo, something of Jane’s doing, I’m sure, but it fits him like a glove. He checks his watch.

Voices drift through the air and the sun beams onto the pristine, crimson carpet. I catch my reflection in one of the many mirrors along the golden walls and stop to adjust my hair, sweeping the chestnut curls away from my forehead.

The black-on-black tuxedo I’m wearing was Evander’s idea, even though I could be in sweatpants and a T-shirt right now. The electric hum of the crowd gathered around the palace walls reaches...