Blood Crown

by Ali Cross

  “The last time I saw you, when you were ten, and I was almost twelve, your family came to our Capital for the Farewell Festival—celebrating the day humans took to the stars and left their dying Earth behind. My father had always insisted on war training, but on my birthday earlier that year the training had increased in vigor. Trainings in matters of state had also begun and so I stood as his heir that day when your family disembarked from your ship. Your mother and father approached first. They were regal and beautiful, so different from my own family. I mean, my parents were kingly, but there was a delicacy in your mother that mine did not possess, and an open charm to your father that made me feel . . . warm and suspicious. My own father is a hard man. He rarely smiles, rarely offers any kind of softness.” Nic’s voice catches in his throat and I know he is fighting back the emotions his parents’ deaths have caused in him.

  “But after your father had shaken my father’s hand, and bowed before my mother, he held his hand out to me. Like an equal. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but it was something that made me stand taller, to puff out my chest just a bit and grip the hilt of my sword. He made me feel capable of caring for all that would one day be mine.

  “And then he stepped aside and beckoned to you. He watched with me as you walked toward us. I knew you were just a little girl, but in that moment I understood that you would also be my wife. You had changed a lot in the four months since I saw you last. You were taller for one, and your hair had grown longer—I noticed all those things—but there was something else, too. You looked . . . regal.

  “‘She is a vision,’ your father said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. ‘She is my greatest treasure, son. Guard her with all your cunning, and give her all your passion—for she is deserving of nothing less. She is the most valuable thing in all the universe.’ I didn’t exactly understand his words, but I understood the sentiment.”

  I smile at the images playing behind my eyes, Nic’s memories of that day enlivening my own until it is like we are there again.

  “When Archibald presented you to me, I stepped forward to take your hand, as was our custom when you visited. But you seemed to know that something had changed in me, and you curtsied low.

  “My legs shook and there was so much adrenaline coursing through me that my arms felt numb. ‘Rise,’ I said in my best kingly voice. When you did, you didn’t keep your eyes downcast as was the tradition in my kingdom. You looked straight at me with eyes as rich and dark as chocolate. And that’s when I knew.”

  He paused, his chest trembling beneath my hands. “What did you know?” I am afraid to hope, but the way his symbiants sing in my veins I am sure I am right.

  His arms tighten around me before he continues. “I knew that I loved you. And that I would always love you and would never desire another. I stripped the glove from my right hand, not understanding what I wanted to do but knowing it was right. I held my hand out to you.

  “I accept you, Serantha,” I said. My mother gasped and someone made a strangled sound. There was a flurry of movement, but it didn’t matter, I only had eyes for you. In a flash you’d peeled off your own glove. You said, “I accept you, Nicolai,” in your little girl voice but with eyes that seemed to be filled with ancient wisdom. Our fingers touched and a golden warmth rushed through me. The biggest smile lit your face, and I wanted to kiss your dimples and see the sparkle in your eyes exactly like that every day of my life. I never wanted to leave you.

  “But then we were pulled apart and scolded and I barely saw you anymore for the rest of the celebration—and then you were gone. Gone for good, I thought.”

  “But I wasn’t gone.” I’m leaning back now, watching his face, seeing the memory play back in my own mind in stereo—his memories and my own, dusty and long unused.

  Nic shakes his head sadly. “No, you weren’t gone. But I thought you were. We all thought you were. When we learned the Capital had been attacked, and that the royal family had not survived, my father did something I have never forgiven him for. We escaped, taking up a position of cowardice behind a moon deep in the Eastern Empire and the Mind were too indifferent to come after us.

  “I came to hate my father, to hate everything the royal family stood for. Because of him, we didn’t come to your aid. I felt, because of him, you had died.” He takes a long, shaky breath and lets his gaze meet mine, lets me see everything in there, feel it echo inside of me through his symbiants.

  “I am sorry I didn’t tell you who I was the moment I recognized you. I’m sorry I didn’t grab you into my arms and pledge myself to you immediately.” He hangs his head and I am speechless. Not knowing what else to do, I lift his face but when his eyes meet mine I still don’t know what to say. So I let my symbiants communicate the love and acceptance in my heart.

  “I have loved you forever, Serantha. You may feel you have only just met me, but I remember. And I have never forgotten the way your hand felt in mine that day. The day we became one—or at least, joined.”

  He offers me a small smile and warmth springs to life in my belly, radiating outward, filling my blood, my tissues, my limbs, my breath with golden happiness. He slips his right hand from around my waist and holds it, palm upward between us.

  “I accept you, Serantha.”

  My smile grows until I feel it crinkles the corners of my eyes, stretching my cheeks further than they’ve ever gone. I can barely contain the giddy joy I feel as I place my hand on his, palms touching.

  “I accept you, Nicolai.”

  Though it had already happened—once in part, when we were children, and once in desperation when we fought against the Mind—this time nothing much changes in us, but it doesn’t quell the joy I feel. And when the Blood Crown appears on Nic’s forehead, shining forth in crimson glory, I laugh and he laughs and then we are kissing the laughter away, spreading kisses all over our faces.

  And I think—this is love. This is true. This is forever.

  My heart is in my throat and I feel as if I could shout for joy. I search Serantha’s eyes for proof of her feelings. Even though her symbiants tell me she feels the same as I, I don’t want to mistake it. I was not terribly kind to her. I was not honest with her.

  I don’t deserve her forgiveness and love.

  She whispers, “Shh, shh,” in answer to my fears but I feel so exposed, so unsure of this new reality I find myself in. In all the visions of my future or fantasies I engaged in as a youth—none involved finding my Betrothed. None involved the fulfillment of my creation. None offered the kind of love and hope I feel now.

  Love and hope were dreams of the past—neither of those things had a place in my future. Real or imagined.

  But now . . .

  “Serantha, I . . .”

  She kisses my neck and I am momentarily speechless.

  Finally I drag my senses together and clear my throat.

  “I need to apologize.”

  “For what?” Her eyes search mine and I feel our symbiants Exchange—but even though I know she knows, I still feel the need to say the words.

  “I am sorry for hiding my identity from you. Sorry I didn’t ask you to Bond right away. We might have saved lives if I had and I . . .” Too many words, too much emotion, clog my throat and I am unable to choke out anymore. So much is still unsaid.

  Serantha pushes my hair off my forehead, then leans forward until our brows are touching.

  “I forgive you,” she says. And I feel it is enough.

  At the same moment we sigh and pull back from each other. We have reached the Capital and our small pod has already initiated contact and docking protocols.

  I stare up at the shadow looming before us. The Capital hovers in the blackness of space like a dark planet. No lights blink along its sides and a sob lodges itself in my throat. This kingdom-ship had once been filled with life, been the place for society, for education and trade. This ship had once been the symbol of my family’s people—the West. Now it is empty. Dead. The Mind have wiped out countless hu
mans and will continue to do so. How can we ever survive them? How can we hope to stop them?

  “We will find a way,” Nic says as he reaches for my hand. He keeps his gaze forward, his lips drawn into a line. He looks just like the stubborn, arrogant young man I’d met in my ship’s control room—but now I know what lurks behind that stern exterior. He fears for humanity as much as I.

  I squeeze his hand in return, then focus on the dock as our pod navigates us inside. I feel the ship’s intelligence reaching out to me. It knows me, welcomes me. If offers me a status report, but I tell it to wait, not ready to hear that there are zero people onboard.

  We dock without issue. The pod shuts itself down as soon as we exit it. I straighten my tattered skirts and fuss at them. “Stars,” I mutter. I hold tight to the bodice and yank at the skirt with my other hand, cringing a little as the fabric tears. All I have left are the creamy underskirts and now even they threaten to fall to the ground.

  Lily would be mortified.

  “Well, that’s a shame.” Nic comes around the end of the pod and ogles me. “Hmm. On the other hand, it could be an improvement.” In two long strides he wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me to him.

  “Though, nothing about you needs improving.”

  I press my hands to his chest, pretending to push him away when I really don’t want him to move at all. “Ha. That’s not how you felt when you first met me—I mean when you recently first met me.”

  “True.” He ducks his head to place a trail of kisses down my neck. I shiver beneath his touch. It surprises me when he locks gazes with me again to see his eyes dark and serious. “In the beginning, I had hoped the reports were wrong, that you weren’t really dead.”

  I nod, unsure of how else to respond.

  “But when I finally came to terms with you being gone, I just . . . well, I broke from my family’s ways and joined the rebels—you know. I knew it was you the second I saw you. There was not a single ounce of doubt in my mind. But it was like seeing a ghost, or a dream, come walking into real life. It took a while for my mind to catch up to the reality of your return and to accept that the dreams I’d once held so dear might actually come to pass.” His voice is hoarse with emotion. He swallows, then presses his lips to mine with the desperation of hope reborn.

  When he finally pulls back, I take his hand in mine. “Come on. We’ve got a war to win.”

  We move through the dark corridors that flicker to life as we approach. He keeps his hand in mine during the ride up the transporter to the control room. He only lets go of me to take his sword in his hand. I bite back an argument when he places himself in front of me just before the transport opens. It’s not like I need him to protect me.

  But his symbiants are a part of me now, and that means he is too. So I know he doesn’t act out of disrespect for my ability. He is still the boy-prince with a sword and a vow to keep.

  When the transport opens, I don’t see what he sees, don’t see the gun raised or the blast that burns the air as it zings past me, singeing some wayward curls.

  “Stand down!” Nic hollers.

  “Who are you?” I recognize that voice—

  I shove past Nic and the lights come on. “Dillon? What are you doing here?”

  Minn runs toward me and throws her arms around me. “I am so sorry, Sera. Dillon and I couldn’t go along with the transfer so we stayed behind—but then the Mind came and we hid from them . . . it was only after they left that we realized they took you. That they’d taken both of you.” She looks from me to Nic, wariness and distrust evident on her face.

  “We couldn’t even figure out how to turn everything back on.” Dillon’s shoulders slump and he hangs his head.

  “Good thing the ship holds a week’s worth of air for an entire population—you could have suffocated,” Nic says as he moves past us and toward the controls. Dillon’s face blanches.

  Dillon shoots Nic a dark and distrusting glare so I move to Nic’s side and take his hand in mine, letting the Blood Crown appear and radiate on my forehead—and Nic does the same.

  “This is Prince Nicolai. We are—” But I don’t need to finish because Dillon and Minn fall to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the ground. “Hey, get up. Don’t do that.”

  Nic chuckles when I jump away from him and let the Crown subside. He is, of course, used to such fealty, but it is entirely new to me. I help Minn to her feet.

  She looks at me with wonder, no doubt searching for the Crown which has faded from view. Finally she throws herself at me and presses her face into my hair. “I’m so sorry, Sera. If only I’d known—if any of us had known . . .” But of course she can’t finish the thought. And there is no point to it, anyway.

  If anyone had known my identity I would have been killed a long time ago, when I was still a small, defenseless child. Now, as an adult, with the Bond intact, I am a much more formidable foe.

  “But,” I pull Minn over to the console where we each take a seat. Nic and Dillon meet each other part way and shake hands, but I tune them out, focusing on my friend for the moment. “Why are you here? Why not just go to New Oregon with the others?”

  Minn shakes her head before I stop talking. “It wasn’t right. I mean, I’m not saying it wasn’t right for the others but Dillon and I—someone has to stand up for them, ya know? We’ve lived our whole lives enslaved to the Mind. We didn’t talk about it—how could we?—but I know everyone feels the same. It was no kind of life.”

  She swings her chair from side to side and begins picking at her rough cuticles. “My ma told me stories of how it used to be when the King and Queen ruled the West. She told me what an honor it was to work in support then, to serve your family. To serve you.” Her deep brown eyes regard me. I let her see all of me, for the first time not holding anything back.

  “She even told me stories about you.” She offers a shy smile and focuses on smoothing out her cuticles rather than holding my gaze. “’Course, I didn’t know it was you. I was a year older than you and you were a real-live princess. I used to imagine I was the lost princess.”

  I reach for Minn’s hand, surprised again when she doesn’t pull away. Instead she puts her hand on top of mine, clasping it with her work-roughened skin. “You are our savior, Sera. You are our princess, our Queen. You have always been brave. You have always protected us, even when we did nothing to protect you. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to fight for us. I wouldn’t.” Her gaze burrows deep into mine, like she’ll pull conviction from me at any cost.

  “But, if you’d consider it, I promise they are worth saving. They’ve just been beaten and broken and there’s no hope left in ’em. But you could give it back to them.” She squeezes my hand and I watch while tears fill her eyes and spill over onto her cheeks. “Please don’t give up on them.”

  Nic comes to stand beside me and places his hand on my shoulder. I look up at him and smile, and he smiles at Minn. I let my Crown show and Minn gasps. “We aren’t giving up.” I peer at both Minn and Dillon, making sure they see the hope and determination shining in my eyes.

  I feel Nic’s pride and conviction radiate through his touch. “We will fight.”

  I am glad for Dillon and Minn—they give me hope, help me remember who we are fighting for. Dillon, a short, boxy man with an honest face, has a quick mind and offers ideas as we plan our course of action.

  In confidence, I ask him to be Serantha’s personal guard. “Serantha won’t like it, but I would feel better knowing you were at her side.”

  Dillon casts a glance in the women’s direction. I suspect he realizes that protecting Sera will also mean protecting Minn.

  He offers me a curt nod. “I’ll be subtle about it.” He grins and I clap him on the back.

  “Let’s get to work, then.”

  “We don’t know if we stand a chance,” I tell Minn and Dillon while Nic reaches out to his people. I watch him out of the corner of my eye—he hasn’t said anything about his parents, about ho
w he must be feeling. I lost my parents so long ago that I don’t know what to say to make his loss bearable. I suppose there will never be the right words.

  “The Mind have already destroyed several ship-states.” Minn cries out and Dillon puts his arm around her to steady her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say in a low voice. I don’t know how to make up for all those lives lost, and I think it will haunt me forever. I don’t have it in me to tell her about Sher. Perhaps I am heartless, after all. I can’t find it within me to offer condolences or ease a hurting heart. I shake my head and press forward. “They thought they had us and wanted to show us our whole civilization wiped out so we could know we had lost everything before they killed us, too.”

  Nic leans back in his chair, the screen in front of him scrolling through an endless array of coordinates.

  “Nic’s going to get his people to help. The . . .” I glance at Nic, but decide to carry on . . . “King and Queen of the Eastern Capital have been murdered.” Minn’s face blanches, but I keep speaking. “The East has tried to remain uninvolved in the Mind war, but Nic is confident he can bring them to our side.”

  “The andies won’t stop until all humankind is extinct. Right?” Dillon says. I don’t respond.

  “But the East will help us, won’t they?” Minn asks, twisting her hands together in her lap. Dillon tightens his arm around her shoulder.

  “We should have helped Sera all those years but we didn’t.” Dillon says in his rumbling, gravelly voice. “Because humans are built to protect themselves and their own and sometimes we make a mistake and forget we are all in this together. Sometimes we forget it isn’t just us and our loved ones, that it needs to be everyone—all of us.”

  I take a fresh look at this man I barely knew all my years in support. He was one of the servicemen—repairing the ship and running odd jobs for Cook and anything else he was asked to do. He didn’t spend much time in the kitchen, and he had always been covered in grease—like most of the men were.