Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark, #1)

by Veronica Roth

“What is it?” Cyra was braiding her hair away from her face. Her hands fell when she saw the screen. She read the subtitle aloud: “Fated Chancellor of Thuvhe Steps Forward.” Akos tapped the screen to turn up the volume. In Othyrian, the voice muttered, “. . . she promises a strong stand against Ryzek Noavek on behalf of the oracles of Thuvhe, lost two seasons ago, allegedly in a Shotet invasion on Thuvhesit soil.” “Your chancellor isn’t elected?” Cyra asked. “Isn’t that why they use the word ‘chancellor’ instead of ‘sovereign,’ because the position is elected rather than inherited?” “Thuvhesit chancellors are fated. Elected by the current, they say. We say,” he said. If she noticed his slip from “we” to “they,” she didn’t mention it. “Some generations there is no chancellor, and we just have regional representatives—those are elected.” “Ah.” Cyra turned toward the screen, watching beside him. There was a crowd on the landing platform, bundled though it was covered. A ship was perched at the edge, and the hatch was opening. As a dark-clothed woman stepped down, the crowd burst into cheers. The sights swooped in close, showing her face, wrapped in a scarf that covered her nose and mouth. But her eyes were dark, with a hint of lighter gray around the pupil—the sights were very close, buzzing like flies across her face—and gently sloped, and he knew her. He knew her. “Ori,” he said, breathless.