Chapter 1

Talia

Dawn. This is for Dawn.

Talia's grip tightened on the fan's handle, which was held like a shield in front of her eyes to prevent her from seeing the stylist's work too soon. One of those antiquated traditions that was meant to add an air of mystery and excitement to the night.

Her hips jerked as he roughly twisted and adjusted the layers of itchy underskirts. One of the seams was too tight against her waist, and the repeated movement each time he went back to adjust her skirts was rubbing her skin raw in that spot. She wished she knew her stylist's name, so that she could curse him under her breath. Ban him from New Horizon, too.

The tighter she gripped the fan's handle, the sweatier her fingers became, and she switched hands for what must've been the hundredth time. She drew a deep breath and wiped a humid palm against the obnoxiously full skirt.

"Chancellor," the stylist complained in a low, bored voice as he swatted her hand away. "It will wrinkle the fabric."

It would not. And so what if it did?

"She looks so beautiful! Truly your best work this season, sir," chirped a bright feminine voice. Mary? Margie? Molly? Talia couldn't remember the stylist's assistant's name.

All she knew was that this moment was somehow sadder than Ryker's memorial ceremony. Yes, she'd mourned her husband then. She didn't think there was much mourning left in her after losing her parents, but Ryker's death taught her otherwise.

An entire fleet of exploratory ships, her Ryker at the front of them, had gone dark.

They'd waited. All of New Horizon's twelve thousand inhabitants had waited for as long as they could. They waited for a blip on the radar or an interruption in the static. For a sign. For anything. It wasn't just her Ryker who'd been lost to the void of that unmarked section along the edge of Orion's Arm. There'd been eleven others with him. Husbands, brothers, sons . . . and Eloise.

The brutal attack on a New Horizon exploration fleet during Talia's grandparents' generation resulted in new rules and what some argued had become an over-protection of their women. Women could only travel to known, safe destinations and never alone, which excluded them from becoming exploration pilots. Eloise was descended from a lineage of pilots, though, and spent every second she could spare in the flight simulators. No one was surprised when Draven, who'd adored her since they were children and had bragged for days when she'd finally agreed to go out on a date with him, woke up groggy and late for takeoff. By the time he discovered that a certain someone had dressed in his gear and snuck into his vessel, the fleet had unknowingly left him behind and it was determined that it was too late to call them back.

Talia would always regret her part in that decision.

New Horizon had a philosophy of committing to the path that's already been set, which was meant to curb the over-expenditure of resources. Their council decided that to have the fleet circle back would waste time and fuel they'd never recover. If she'd overruled their decision, maybe things would be different. Maybe the fleet would've never met with whatever disaster caused their disappearance.

New Horizon had altered their course to the fleet's last known location and sent out search parties. They never found bodies or debris to confirm their worst fears but couldn't find evidence of survival either. Eventually, the only thing left to do was release an official announcement of presumed death for the fleet and move forward, freeing them to carry on with their objective. And this was it, this was Talia moving forward. It was all of New Horizon moving forward. They'd voted on it.

Perhaps that's why moving forward in this manner, as a participant at Orion's Masquerade, felt more like betrayal than goodbye. There was no closure for her. No body to see or to hold. She could never give Ryker a proper sendoff into the Deep, instead she was expected to waltz her way into a new husband's arms.

"Whatever it takes."

That was their promise to one another the day he'd departed, leading New Horizon's mission of discovering a planet for them to inhabit. Neither of them could've foreseen the disaster that followed, though, and her promises belonged to someone else now. They belonged to Dawn.

As their appointed leader, it was Talia's responsibility to find Dawn and all of New Horizon the world they deserved. A real world, not an old generation ship on the verge of exhausting all of its resources.

A planet.

A permanent home.

"Oh, and one here, too!" The assistant's giggling voice grated as Talia felt the stylist jostle something in her hair. She blinked hard, fighting back tears.

Here she was, preparing to waltz all over Ryker's grave, and this poodle of an assistant was going on like it was some debutante ball. Didn't she know that only two types of people attended Orion's Masquerade?

Those who could afford to luxuriate in the spectacle, and those who had to endure it.

Talia was an obvious member of the latter class.

"You are ready, madam." It was the man this time. Quiet and respectful.

At least she could appreciate that, even if the reverent tone might only be his admiration for his own work. Being one of the masquerade's appointed stylists was no small page in one's portfolio. The event only happened once every decade. The media attention itself was enough to put a stylist in high demand with the galaxy's most elite celebrities and families.

She felt him shift behind her. He reached forward and ran a hand from her elbow up to her wrist, urging her to drop the screen. Her throat went dry as she stood before her reflection in the tall, wide mirror.

It was too much.

The big, shimmering dress adorned with opals was too much.

It was hers. Of course it was hers. The stylist had arrived unannounced three weeks prior with full access to her wardrobe for his choosing. No rebuttals allowed.

It wasn't always hers, though. First, it was her mother's. Talia dreamt of the day she'd wear this dress to her own wedding. She held it often, adoring the luminescent trick it played as the fabric draped and flowed with every movement. It was light and airy. A representation of everything Talia had ever wanted from this life.

She never got that moment, though. Her and Ryker's ceremony had been rushed and private, bordering on secrecy.After her mother's funeral, it was Talia's turn to run for Chancellor. Ryker Steele, then the ship's captain, was the only person willing to challenge her as an opponent.

During that election period, he could've exploited her outbursts of grief. Instead, he invited her to practice their debates privately before the public ones. They butted heads on stage, but always followed up with a couple of glasses of wine and debriefed together. It turned out that they had more common ground than they thought, and she fell in love with the way he protected her fragile image from the prying eyes of their constituents until she was healed enough to stand on her own again.

Talia shocked everyone by asking him to be her vice-chancellor instead of her rival, appreciating the way he challenged her. He brought balance to their leadership. It didn't take long to realize that they belonged together. Ryker planned an intimate, private wedding with only their closest friends to protect her integrity as Chancellor, in case there was a public outlash. Then, they broke the news to their colony together.

He always did that for her. Kept the wolves at bay.

Now, he was gone and her mother's gown was ruined.

The once simple skirt had been stuffed with layer upon layer of agitating underskirts by the stylist, making her look like some ridiculous sugar frosted cupcake. Should she fail to secure a marriage arrangement by the end of the night, her gown and jewels would be taken as compensation for the cost of the night's events. It was all part of the masquerade's tradition. The gown was the most beautiful garment she owned, making it the obvious choice for her masquerade attire. Talia spent days plucking the opals from the dress and meticulously replacing them with cheap counterfeits before the stylist arrived. Any semblance of the gems' unique shimmer was now gone, and it made her stomach churn to see it like this in the mirror.

Her makeup and hair were even worse. Her face was garish. It was as if she'd aged ten years in eyeliner and blush alone, and her curls were pinned high and tight on her crown in a manner that hurt when she tried to turn her head.

Talia scanned the woman staring back at her in the mirror, then landed her gaze on the taller and sharply angled man behind her. He was older, but not quite old enough to be her father. Still, there was an aura of authority about him. His graying hair was tied neatly into a low ponytail, and he rested an assessing fist on his chin. She wondered if he thought Talia's final transformation was some of his best work.

Her fingers trailed the chunky choker around her neck. The many large fire citrines in this piece, its matching bracelet, and heavy earrings were as burdensome as they were stunning. She hadn't thought to replace these gemstones, as the pieces were locked in New Horizon's vault, and that wasn't an area she had anticipated that the stylist would ask for access to. She also hadn't imagined that he'd paint her lips a dramatic deep orange-red to match either.

Who pairs opal with fire citrine anyway?

It was a strong contrast. The silvery white fluffy dress against the heavy, severe makeup. Talia's head didn't match her body.

"Do you not think that it could be a bit much?" she asked gently.

"No," he answered quickly, pursing his lips. "It will be dark. Your dress will help you shine, and the bold makeup will be softened by the veil. More natural makeup would only get lost behind the fabric, turning your face into another blob under the dim lights."

"How many of these have you done?"

"This will be my third Orion event, and countless of the smaller ones."

She toed a bolt in the metal sheeting of the floor with the tip of her pointed slipper. Deep orange slippers, to match the citrines.

The stylist's hand found her chin and tilted her gaze back to the mirror. All pomp had left his face and his dark eyes crinkled with a father's concern.

"I can only entice them to you, Chancellor Steele, but it's you who must do the rest. You might not have the same bargaining power as some others, but you offer much to be appreciated. New Horizon is renowned across the quadrant for its contributions to exploration technology. Your parents' legacy is almost mythical. Do not underestimate the value in an honorable lineage."

She nodded and whispered a quiet thank-you. As they both turned from the mirror, the giddy assistant who'd dissolved into the background long ago jumped with a yelp as the countdown bell rang through the cabin. The stylist pinned a simple veil to the crown of her head and gently laid it over her face. He and his assistant packed up and left the room.

It was tradition for the Orion's Masquerade contestants to be left with those final ten minutes to themselves because after the countdown ran out, they would gather together in the hallway and the night's festivities would begin. No turning back.

But Jules, who'd sat quietly with an unnerving stillness for hours while studying her data pad, couldn't allow Talia so much as a second with her own feelings.

"I've been reviewing the dossier against your list of possible matches. I think there are some changes we can?—"

"No." Talia spoke firmly.

"Excuse me?"

"Whatever your recommendation is, I do not want it. In fact, I'd only be inspired to do the opposite." She turned from the mirror and stepped toward her.

Jules' shoulders slumped slightly before straightening again. She adjusted her thick-rimmed glasses, tucked a lock of long blonde hair behind her ear, and picked up the data pad which was resting in her lap. The glass tablet lit up with the movement.

"I just think that?—"

"I said no!"

Jules gaped at Talia's outburst.

They were of similar age and belonged to similar circles, and so Vice-Chancellor Jules Strickland had once been one of Talia's closest friends. She'd held Talia during her grief, made sure that she took care of herself after Ryker's death, and helped to keep Talia's head on her shoulders when her competency to lead was called into question. She had trusted Jules. She appointed Jules as her vice-chancellor in Ryker's absence.

Now, the woman would never be welcome within Talia's circle ever again. It would be written into any marriage arrangement's contract she drafted tonight.

"You presented Orion's Masquerade to the council. You voted me here, controlled every step of the way between then and now, then forced yourself as my chaperone when I requested to come alone. What you will not do is tell me who I must marry."

"I'm not here to force anything upon you, Talia, I'm here to help you."

"Chancellor Steele," she corrected as she returned to the mirror. If Jules weren't there to witness, she'd rip one or two of the underskirts off.

"It's our best chance, you know it. And my mom, her generation was supposed to be the last on the ship. She really thought she'd see ground before she died and now, with her sickness, Talia—Chancellor Steele, you know how important this is. Not just to me but to everyone. It's life and death!"

"You could've offered yourself." Talia loosened some of the pins that were pulling at her hair.

"But I am not Chancellor."

"Your only regret in all of this, I'm sure." She made eye contact with Jules through the mirror. "You could've brought your concerns to me instead. We could've found another way."

Talia couldn't stand to be in the room with her anymore. She headed for the door. Maybe she'd find some peace out there in the hallway, among the other women who were facing the same daunting decision tonight as she was.

"Remember who you're doing this for."

Jules meant New Horizon. She didn't know about Dawn. No one except for their highest tier of medical staff knew about Dawn.

Talia nodded in return.

She knew who she was doing this for.