Anya’s heart skipped a beat, and she started to feel numb. Everything went quiet- both inside and outside her head. The crowds went silent, without even a murmur. Her breathing quickened ever so slightly, and the glass view box suddenly felt far too small. Beside her, Maria had gone pale.

Anya hadn’t put her name in.

In the silence, time seemed to slow. She felt as though she were in a nightmare, one in which everything moved as fast as a hand through treacle. Heads turned in slow motion towards them, and a sea of faces replaced the crowds below. All eyes were on her; on Ariannya Vasquez, Princess Imperial to the British Empire, daughter of the Empress, Maria Vasquez the First.

A lump rose in her throat, and she looked down upon them. They were all waiting. Waiting, and watching. She couldn’t refuse. Nobody in the twenty raffles before had refused the task, had stepped down. Anya wasn’t even sure you could- although, being the Princess Imperial was most likely the best reason any had to step down. But she couldn’t. All of those before had gone through. Who was she to deny the call to aid her city? Her country?

She clenched her fists, nails digging into the palms of her hands. She stood, pushing herself from her throne and standing before the microphone. Her name had been picked. She couldn’t refuse. With a shaking voice, she answered.

“I accept.”

Immediately there was a roar of voices as the people below started talking once more. People spoke with stunned excitement, calling out to one another. Even the guards whispered amongst themselves, momentarily breaking their silence. Antonie stood still on the stage, the piece of paper that had started it all held in ghostly white fingers. Anya could see him looking toward the view box, too surprised to even attempt to reign the crowd in.

As the crowd calmed a little, the Imperial Communications Manager seemed to find his voice, opening his mouth and stuttering the words- “T-The Twenty First Imperial Hunter h-has been named.”

Anya stumbled back from the microphone, staring at space. Maria was frozen, half-standing, as though to stop Anya from going any further. The Empress was as white as a sheet, her face one of grief and sorrow. It was she who was first to move, coming back to her senses and closing the short gap between the pair, enclosing her daughter in a tight embrace. Anya leaned into her mother, burying her face into her shoulder. They stood there for a while in silence, while cheering broke out amongst the crowds.

The Imperial family did not stay for the rest of the ceremony. Soon after the announcement had been made, Maria had decided that was enough. She guided her daughter toward the elevator, eerily quiet. The guards followed them, and they descended. Everything was a blur to Anya, the initial shock passing and time began to whirl past.

It was only when the reached the carriage that everything seemed to go back to normal. They were back in the place where she was last herself, the last place she had been nothing but the Princess Imperial, the pretty little girl who accompanied the Empress, of no importance until her Ascension.

She watched as the Atrium slid past, accompanied by the rhythmic steps of the horses and the quiet clatter of the carriage wheels on stone. Fireworks still blazed above its glass roof, scattering the sky with vibrant colours. They had started late this particular year- the initial shock had delayed their release, and so they still lit the night as the building grew smaller in the window. It disappeared around a corner, replaced with the red brick houses that lined London’s streets.

“What foolish desire for adventure possessed you in that moment, Ariannya?” Maria’s voice was quiet, solemn. Anya’s mother gazed out of the window, watching the same buildings as her daughter.

Anya’s hands tightened in her lap, her knuckles going white as she clutched bunches of the bronze dress. Her mother rarely addressed her using her full name, saving it for when she spoke of her daughter in public, or for when she was speaking solemnly. The name, Anya knew, was a painful reminder of her father.

When she received no answer, the Empress’ eyes moved to Anya, the deep grey streaked with black. The Princess Imperial struggled to meet the gaze, struggling to look deeply into her mothers eyes. Maria had many years of practise in hiding her emotions, able to hold an even tone in the worst of crises. She could mask joy or sorrow or laughter or anger- but, Anya had learnt, she could not hide grief. Behind her mother’s level expression Anya could see it. It pricked at the corners of her eyes, added a new layer to her voice that trembled with every word. It made the Empress look older, her hair seeming to lighten a shade. Anya couldn’t hold her gaze long, instead looking down at her hands.

“What came over you?” she asked again.

Anya shook her head softly, feeling the sting of tears in her own eyes. Before her mother could ask a third time, she spoke. “I cannot stand idly by while our own people suffer,” she whispered. “I cannot stand while he- while Kole gets away with this.” Maria opened her mouth to speak, but Anya continued before she managed to get a word out. “For forty two years he’s tormented us, sending spies and machines to the City’s outer reaches, stirring unrest in our citizens. He’s eluded us for just as long, always one step ahead. Twenty other people have ventured out- in addition to some of our best trained soldiers, bounty hunters, and other citizens who wanted to try their hand. What right do I have to forfeit?”

Maria’s eyes hardened, and the carriage went over a dip in the road. “You are Princess Imperial,” she said calmly. “You have a place far more important than out there, searching for the traitor. What would our people do when-” Her voice caught on the word, her expression flickering for a moment, “-if you don’t return?” she corrected. “Losing another integral part of the empire could be too much for our people, there would be more unrest, more suffering.” Her mother did not raise her voice, and in some ways that was worse than shouting. Anya knew that she wasn’t just talking about the Arcane Rune- the people had lost the Emperor, her father and the Empress’s husband, only a few years ago.

The carriage rattled to a halt, and Maria gave Anya a look that told her that this conversation had not finished. The Princess Imperial continued to look at her hands, still holding onto the bronze dress she wore as though her life depended on it. The footman opened the door with a flourish, and the Empress stepped out gracefully, her own dress swaying behind her. Anya waited a moment before following, ensuring that she had full composure of herself. The press would be waiting like hounds for dinner outside, and if they caught so much as a stutter from her Anya knew she would be in even deeper trouble.

She took a deep breath, before disembarking the carriage.

Anya followed her mother through the palace’s front doors, head bowed as they moved through the entrance hall. The marble pillars rose either side of them, corridors snaking off into the further reaches of the building. The palace staff hurried around, already given preparations following the news from the Raffle. The bulk of the Empress’s armed escort had split from their party, taking the first corridor to the left as they entered. Anya glanced back, watching the red-clad soldiers march through into the less ornate passageway to the guardhouses. She turned back to face forward, straightening her back as her mother led her through the palace.

They came to a halt by the secondary parlour, a maid hurrying to open the doors, before they entered. Maria took the seat closest to the heavily curtained windows, her favourite of all the chairs in the palace. The remaining guards positioned themselves outside the room’s entrances, and shut the door behind Anya as she stepped inside.

She stood by that door for a while, unable to make eye contact with her mother.

The Empress sat neatly in her chair, her hands folded demurely in her lap, cradled by the silk of the gown she wore. The Empress was watching the curtains with interest, admiring the embroidered gold patterns, accentuated with deep blue. They matched the dark fabric of the armchair’s cushions. Anya’s hair was a blazing fire amidst the cool shades of the room. She shifted uncomfortably, painfully aware of a wire from her corset poking into her side.

Maria sighed, relaxing her position considerably. Her shoulders lowered, hands instead taking their places on the armrests of the chair. She returned her gaze to Anya, once more regarding her with a mixture of anger and worry. “Sit,” she said, gesturing toward the armchair across from her.

Anya hesitated for a moment, before she sat, cradling her hands in one another. She kept her gaze low, watching how the light shimmered off of her mother’s dress.

Neither spoke for a further minute. The sound of marching soldiers could be heard outside as the Imperial Guard made their half-hourly round.

It was Anya who broken the silence, finally able to find her voice again. “I have to go, mother. It’s my duty.”

“Your only duty is to your people, here, in London,” her mother answered, she was shaking her head softly. “Oh Anya, why did you put your name in?”

She didn’t answer immediately. When she did, she spoke with barely a whisper. “I didn’t.”

Maria stared at her for a few moments, speechless. Her eyes softened for a brief second, before flickering back to anger, to an emotion akin to outrage. “Then this is hardly the time to heading off on a journey, exiled from the capital, in search of danger.” She spoke swiftly, her words sharp. “Anya, your name shouldn’t have been in there, there is no obligation or duty holding you to-”

The Empress stopped, pursing her lips. Anya had stood from where she sat, her posture excellent, and was looking directly into her mother’s eyes. Flames burned behind her dark brown eyes, her own anger starting to seep in. “You’re wrong. I have every obligation to fulfil my promise. I accepted the summons, I said yes. I will not be a princess who sits in her palace all day, combing her hair and wiping away tears for every citizen who ventures out to do the Empire a service.” She halted for breath, allowing the weight of her words a moment’s pause. When she opened her mouth to speak again, Maria raised a hand for silence. Anya’s mouth snapped shut as the Empress stood, rising gracefully from her seat.

“I forbid it.”