She didn't go to see Aaron. She couldn't honestly pretend not to revel in this new power of hers, and she didn't want to see him so shocked by her heartlessness. Everyone in the capital was being rather heartless today. At midday, she would be named High Heir to the Kallian Empire, and tonight, not twenty-four hours after her brothers' deaths, there would be a celebratory Ball. Markus, Erik, Tyton, Perseus and Theseus would have their funerals at never o'clock. Their graves would be dug in the I-Couldn't-Care-Less cemetery.

Kallians were a remarkably practical people, and the loss of six of their princes did not seem to bother them. As long as there was some new princess (would this one try to assassinate the mother as well?) to take their place, then who could really care? The Empress certainly did not.Lysandra decided she would have to make a favourable impression on her people. She wore a dress of black and silver, long-sleeved and shining. Her ruby necklace looked like blood drops.

Her black high heels were painful as they were beautiful. Her black hair-she had let the dye grow out for the ceremony-was tied into braids with red gold woven in. The Spare Heir's crown was pink diamond and silver.

She walked into the Throne Room, with the nobles gathered and Aaron, now second-in-line, watching her. Her mother gazed at her with laughing obsidian eyes, and in her hand was a crown of onyx and black gold, so much more magnificent than the one on her own head. Her gown trailed behind her as she neared her mother.

She kneeled at her mother's feet and kissed her obsidian ring. She threw the crown she was currently wearing to the ground with disdain.

Medea placed the onyx and black-gold crown on her daughter's head.

"I name you, blood of my blood, bone of my bone, my Heir. I name you, eldest child, the Crown Heir to my Empire. If I should fall, I give you my blessing to rule.  Rise, my daughter, blood of my blood, bone of my bone, and take your place by my side."

Lysandra rose and took the throne beside her mother.

Power tingled at her fingertips. It was all that she had dreamed and more.

The nobles came, one by one, to pledge the allegiance to Lysandra as their Heir. Every one of them, who had sneered and snickered at her, whispering that she was only useful to be sold off like cattle in a marriage to some noble for her mother's gain. Who had said that she was cursed, without magic or alchemy.

She knew that some of them had wondered whether they would be the one she was married off to, that some had competed for the power of marrying into the Crimson line. Knew that most of them had laughed when her investments in stock markets failed, saying that she shouldn't have bothered, that she was stupid. They had said it was dumb luck when she did well. The nobles who had made life so hard for her because she was a girl, and sixth-born, and apparently not blessed with the magic of her line.

They all kissed her ring. They all bowed their heads, like they did to her mother, and once had to her brother.

They had all laughed at her. And look at who was now standing higher than they could ever reach.

When she was Empress, she would marry none of them. She'd rather die heirless than name one of their sons or nephews Emperor-Consort. Let them all crawl at her feet and beg for scraps. Victory is the sweetest vengeance of all.

When they left the throne room, Aaron caught up with her at last.

"Lysandra!" he called out.

"That would be Princess Lysandra to you," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "I now rank substantially above you."

"Our brothers are dead, Lysandra." Aaron chastised. "Try not to be gloating about claiming their place."

"How about you? Not happy you're now in Erik's?"

"They were our brothers!" he protested as they reached their rooms. "They were our blood!"

"They were nothing to us.They were cruel and vicious, and only looked at us twice to laugh at us, and push us in the mud, beating us down like all the nobles!"

"What are you talking about? All the nobles ever did was run around trying to curry our favour." Lysandra froze.

"Oh, haven't you noticed? They all laughed at me, all told me to get back in my box and look pretty because I'm a girl. Same with those precious brothers of yours."

"I-I didn't know-"

"You didn't want to know." Lysandra retorted. "So, forgive me for not caring if our brothers, who all made a game of cruelty, are dead and the nobles who told me I was useless now have to bow at my feet."

"I'm sorry," he begged. "Please, it's been an emotional day."

"Why? You didn't care for them, no matter how much your conscience demands that you call them brothers now that they are dead."

"Because we almost lost our mother," Aaron whispered hoarsely. "And I'm beginning to wonder if she would kill me just the same as she killed them, without flinching or caring."

"You know she would never," Lysandra scorned. "You know that she might imprison you if you ever tried to kill her, but she sure as the sun shines bright would never kill you. And Aaron?"

"Yes?"

"We did not almost lose our mother. You almost lost yours."

------------------

The ball was all opulence and sparkle. Black gold and black diamonds, onyx and obsidian, rubies, red sapphires, red diamonds. Emeralds the colour of Lysandra's eyes. Her afternoon was a whirlwind of tailors and speechwriting and tiara-choosing. She chose the wines and the dishes and a bit of the colour scheme for her ball. Her mother was in charge of the guest list, which meant that she had to deal with a few odious characters but deal with them she would.

She picked out new dresses-being a Crown Heir meant her wardrobe needed to be more expensive than before-and helped the metalworkers select a new set of crowns. Banners of the Empress that had once borne Markus's (somewhat) ugly face were replaced with banners of her beautiful self standing beside Medea. Markus' portraits were burned down and replaced with hers, painted to look flattering-not that there was much work to be done.

All records of her elder brothers were replaced. Lysandra had a vague idea that Aaron was going through a similar thing, replacing Erik as second child.

In between all of this, she would be chased by nobles petitioning to meet with her for aid in political agendas, asking for her sponsorship and favour. She would find letters on her desk from merchants and artists asking if she might become their patron, christen their ships, continue in the sharemarkets. The one thing about all of this that annoyed her were the proposals.

Even when she was their Crown Heir, everyone still saw her as someone to be married off. Except now, she was suddenly much more appealing as a marriage prospect and unlikely to be married off by her mother, so they went directly to her. The one enjoyable thing about it was watching those letters slowly burn.

Lysandra walked into the Heir's Ball and soaked it all up. It was beautiful, held in the grandiose ballroom that was (tastefully) closest to the place where her brothers had been executed that morning. Wearing a beautiful black gown and adorned with rubies, she entered last.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Lysandra Crimson, Crown Heir of the Kallian Empire!"

How wonderful it was to be announced. And how much better this ball was than the one of her eighteenth birthday, a sad affair that half the court didn't bother to show up to.Her mother sat on her throne, elegant and commanding. Lysandra would sit next to her, after she had danced for the first few songs.

The waltz was similarly opulent, and she managed to find a tolerable boy to spend them with. After the first few dances, she retreated to the thrones to watch it all from afar, gloating over it all.

This was what she had worked so hard for. This glittering diamond world and the glittering diamond throne she watched it from. Aaron was by her side after managing to get dressed up enough for the occasion, though struggling with the food. She might sneak him some gingernut biscuits when the ball was over and have a midnight feast like they did when they were children.

The night wore on, in all its splendour. She drunk perhaps too much, but certainly less than some of the nobles who later walked through the palace, tripping on cats and into walls. Occasionally she might have danced with charming nobles who knew waltzing well enough not to stand on her feet, but she never liked them.

"The world is your oyster," her mother muttered to her once. "Do you like it, daughter of mine?"

"I would not be a Crimson if I didn't." She replied, but her mother wasn't listening.

Lysandra didn't care. She walked through the crowd and was swallowed by it. Victory was hers at last, and she planned to enjoy it.

   -----------------

When she woke-her hangover suggesting she had had more wine than she thought-her mother was there.

The Empress had never tucked her into bed, even when she was a child. Medea simply had not cared much for her children, finding that they all resembled their father too much. Until Aaron, who's blond locks, bright blue eyes and unusually fair skin-for Kallians, at least-belonged entirely to him.

Medea smiled. "Do you remember when I told you that I never wanted you as my heir?" Medea whispered. Of course, Lysandra did.

"I distinctly remember you saying I'd slip poison in your drink and take your throne," she replied. "You then tried to fool me into believing Sabran was not a cat."

"Did I? Well, then. I searched far and wide for your hand in this plot of my sons, daughter, but I found you nowhere. You never did like Markus, though, so I'm not surprised. Was it some petty grudge about him being born first?"

"I didn't really enjoy his company." Lysandra replied. "I got the impression you didn't either."

"Of course not. He had a liar's tongue, just like his sun-blasted father." She's surprised to hear her mother talk about her husband-Lysandra's father. He died when she was just two, and Medea never seemed interested in the topic.

"I was so disappointed when I had you, you know." Medea added helpfully. "No magic, after five had the gift. But then Aaron didn't have any either and I realised I was lucky to have the first five. And I could see right through the features we share to realise that you had a liar's tongue, too."

"Liar's tongues are useful things," Lysandra countered.

"They are for the weak. Who find the truth most disadvantageous."

"To appear to have power can give you very much." She countered.

"I'm in no mood for this, daughter. I am here to say that I do not trust you as my Heir. Before I had a shield of bodies in your five brothers, but I was forced to remove them. And now..." she paused, considering. "Now there are two reasons why I don't end you here and now. Two reasons why your life is one of the most important things to me.

"Aaron. My son, as much as I love him, will be ruined by the crown, and is not fit for it anyway. I will not allow him to be my Heir. As for the second reason...as I much as I hate it and as much as you don't deserve it, he loves you. After the loss of his brothers, he cannot stand to lose you. Feel grateful that you have your life, daughter. It is only because of Aaron that I let you keep it."

"Nice talk," Lysandra retorted. "Any particular reason we had it?"

"I am not letting you out of my sight, daughter. I care not for what you do with your crown if you one day have it at last, but you will have no power now.

"Your life will be spent in your rooms, which my Crimsiths searched whilst you slept-you didn't even notice when I added a little extra to your drink. There will always be guards outside your door. The nobles and officers have been instructed to bring your every order to me first.

"You'll only leave when it's necessary: all the events and marches that Markus did. Aaron will be allowed to spend time with you, but only in the interest of not breaking his heart. The daggers you keep in your room have been confiscated. The windows of your room are sealed. You are not allowed in the armoury. Such a shame you don't have magic-it would be the only thing left."

Lysandra struggled against the irony of her mother's statement, but avoiding smiling wasn't hard.

Everything was ripping itself to pieces. There was no way that she could claim her throne now. No power to grip hold of.

Lysandra was completely helpless.

Well, no. Her mother had left the vaults untouched