Crown Of Fire by Kathy Tyers Read Free Book Online Page A

leadership, and protect her. So let it be." Their eyes met for an instant. "Be wary of pride, Mari."
    The name was a private endearment, but she frowned at the warning. He knew what she planned to do. Sentinel College personality analysts had warned her she would always struggle with pride, willfulness, and impatience (Brennen had already known, of course). Still, this was Netaia, and tonight she had to startle the most complacent Netaians of all. "I can't shuffle into that chamber with my eyes on the ground."
    "Of course not. Show Rogonin you were born for this. Defy the Powers." Brennen touched her shoulder. "But don't let them tempt you back to the old ways."
    She raised her head and strode out.
    In the corridor waited another pair of red-jacketed electoral policemen. Beyond them, two uniformed Federate guards waited at parade -rest, Danton's supplemental group. By now, there were probably Sentinels in the kitchens and corridors, looking for Shuhr assassins.
    She descended the sweeping staircase, sliding her right hand along a banister and holding her skirt. At the foot of the stair, Paskel stood carrying a servitor's tray. He half bowed as she passed. Despite Bren-nen's warning, every proud Angelo instinct flamed in her heart and mind. Her adrenaline surged as if she were headed into combat.
    Well, she was! Twenty meters along the next corridor, two more redjackets stood at each side of gold-sheathed doors. The doors stood open. Firebird drew a deep breath and walked through.
    An elevated, U-shaped table rimmed in gold dominated this elliptical chamber, a room filled with memories. Along one curved crimson wall, beyond a bas-relief false pillar, she spotted a blocked peephole she used years ago to spy on the Electorate. A smooth gold floor medallion carried colder memories. It had felt icy through the knees of her Academy uniform, when she knelt with a redjacket at each shoulder. As a wastling, her birth had helped ensure the Angelo line's survival, but the family's need for her ended when her second niece was born, and so she was ordered to seek a noble death in the name of Netaia's traditions, and for its grandeur. "You are to be praised for your service to Netaia," First Lord Bualin Erwin had intoned the electoral geis. "On behalf of the Electorate, I thank you. But your service to this council has ended."
    Firebird ground her shoes onto the medallion. She raised her head toward the elevated table.
    To be Angelo was to be proud.
    Twenty-six elegantly composed faces stared back. The commoners Carradee had appointed were all gone. Ten noble families ruled Netaia as benign despots, treasurers, and demigod-priests for the nine holy Powers of Strength, Valor, and Excellence; Knowledge, Fidelity, and Resolve; Authority, Indomitability, and Pride. Besides House Angelo, there were the barons and baronesses Erwin and Parkai, three ducal houses, and the counts with their countesses. For decades, they had controlled science and shipping, culture and resources, information and enforcement. As Brennen liked to say, their tentacles were everywhere.
    At center table, a massive man sat on a gilt chair he'd stolen from her sister Carradee. Firebird half bowed to the regent and Duke of Claighbro, Muirnen Rogonin, but she couldn't keep her eyes from narrowing. "Good evening, Your Grace." Grace — ha. His Corpulence was neither gracious nor graceful. All in white with a sash of gold, he glared down through small green eyes.
    She nodded left and right. "Noble electors, good evening." Shel remained three paces behind, at the corner of her vision. By protocol, the electors had to allow her one escort. Brennen and Uri remained by the golden door, between Danton's reinforcements and the red-jacketed door guards. The first time she'd seen Brennen, he stood in this chamber as an honor guard. Here they were again!
    "Lady Firebird." Rogonin rested both hands on the high table. "You have been summoned by the people of Netaia. Deliver your