Chapter 5: The Lantern

On the third day the throne room was so full that Warborn stood in the doorways with their wings pressed to the wall.

Duke Cormac Lorne waited at the foot of the dais with the Lantern of Claims in both hands.

He had never looked kinder.

"I hope you slept well, Marshal," he said. "I thought of you both."

"Wystan," Linus said quietly, without turning his head.

"Here," Wystan murmured, behind his shoulder. "The Lantern's maker is the Duke's own house. I couldn't get near it before today. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Just watch his hands."

The Marshal had unbuttoned his coat and the black shirt beneath it down to his breastbone.

It was a plain act, and it still made the court go quiet.

Under the open collar his skin was pale, and the first black plates sat along his collarbones, ready to rise.

"Drone," the Empress said from her white chair. "Lay your hand on your husband's chest."

Linus walked up to the Marshal and stopped an arm's length away.

Close up, the Marshal's pale eyes were steady.

"They're watching," Linus said under his breath.

"They are," the Marshal said. "Look at me instead."

He did.

Linus put his right hand flat on the Marshal's chest, over the open shirt, over the heart.

It was hot under his palm, and hard, and beating much faster than the Marshal's face allowed.

The gold ring on Linus's wrist lit. The black plates under his hand shivered, and then began to slide apart.

A murmur ran around the room.

The plates drew back from the Marshal's breastbone in a slow line, opening down his chest and leaving bare skin underneath.

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