Blood Crown

by Ali Cross

  Nic reaches forward and claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve no need of such formalities, Dillon. Not now, not ever. Understood?”

  Probably unconsciously, Dillon’s eyes flick up to Nic’s forehead where the Blood Crown remains in view—we decided that it should stay as long as we are in public; and it seems a thing we can control. But Nic continues to grip Dillon’s shoulder in a friendly manner and finally Dillon relaxes and nods. “Sure.” Then he grins and Nic grins and I find I am happy. Despite everything, there is happiness, goodness in my world.

  “Come in—we’ve a little surprise for you,” Dillon says, motioning toward the royal apartments.

  I hold my breath as we cross the threshold, unwilling to see my parents, or even the chair they had sat in for the past nine years. But the room has been so changed, it is like entering an entirely new space.

  Minn stands beside a long, white couch, a roaring fire—a fire!—behind her. The chair and my parents—and, it seems all the trappings of their suite—are gone.

  “I hope it’s all right M’La—” Minn stops at the sharp nod Dillon gives her and a short laugh bursts from me again.

  “Just call me Sera, Minn. Like always.” I step forward and hug her, but not before I notice her eyes, too, flick toward the Crown on my head. When I step back, I hide the Crown once more. We don’t need to wear them in our own apartment, do we? “And everything looks amazing—thank you!”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  Dillon takes Minn’s elbow. “We took great care with your parents. They are prepared, should you wish to honor them.”

  Minn sighs and gives Dillon a grateful smile. “We put your parents’ things into storage and brought in some items we found in the other rooms.”

  “We thought you should have a place of your own,” Dillon adds.

  “Oh,” I exclaim. “I could kiss you for this. It’s perfect!” And so I kiss her cheek, anyway.

  I spin around, noting the mirrors on the walls, the white rugs on the floor—and a warm glow coming from the room beyond—the sleeping chamber. I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips as I take Nic’s hand. I want Minn and Dillon to hurry and leave, but I don’t have the heart to send them away just yet.

  My stomach growls so loudly Minn jumps and Dillon barks out a laugh. “We have food for you, M’L—Serantha. Come, sit.”

  Nic leads me to the small round table tucked in a corner beneath a charming hanging lamp alight with small bulbs. Dillon opens a door in the wall near us and the scrumptious smell of food, fresh and warm, envelopes the whole room. I sigh, only now giving in to the hunger that grips me.

  Dillon places plates piled high with meat and bread, vegetables and cheese. He pours us drinks and leaves the bottle of thick red fluid—wine, Nic supplies—as he steps back.

  “We’ll retire for the night, My—uh. If you need anything,” Minn says, stepping closer to Dillon, “just ask the ship and it will be alert us.”

  “Thank you,” I say while Nic nods, his mouth full of food.

  As they leave the room, Minn reaches out for Dillon’s hand and I feel as though, for right this very moment, everything is right with my world.

  We eat in silence while I access everything Archibald had stored in his database about how to act like a princess. I am not very good at it. I feel confident in my abilities to lead—I’d been leading myself my entire life and I figure it can’t be much different than that. Except instead of watching out for myself, I will watch out for everyone.

  Yet I might not survive this dinner.

  Nic chuckles in that soft way of his, like he is laughing for his own amusement and not to be overheard by anyone.

  “What?” But I know what. I’d just dropped my fork for the third time because I couldn’t coordinate my knife and fork the way he does. “Oh, forget it.” I stab the meat and use my fingers to pull off a piece of it. I shove it into my mouth—with my fingers—and glare at him.

  He gets up from the table, shaking his head and chuckling all the while. I pretend to ignore him. But when he leans in behind me, pressing his cheek to mine and taking each of my hands in his, I can’t ignore him no matter how hard I try.

  He shapes the fingers of my left hand around the fork, and then my right around the knife. With gentle pressure he helps me cut the meat with ease. A piece free, he helps me spear the juicy morsel and place it in my mouth. While I chew, his thumb caresses my left wrist and his lips wander down my neck, leaving kisses like whispers against my skin. At some point I stop chewing and close my eyes, savoring his kisses instead of the food.

  Nic releases the knife and fork from my fingers and I swallow with a gulp. Then he trails his hands upward where he sweeps my hair over my right shoulder. His fingertips and kisses chase each other at the nape of my neck and I gasp when his tongue flicks my skin.

  His fingers slip beneath the collar of my shirt and I can’t breathe. Can’t think. I might explode if something doesn’t happen soon.

  And because he knows me, truly knows me, Nic steps back and holds the chair so I can scoot out from the table and stand. I turn to him, finding his eyes dark with desire and his pale cheeks flushed a warm pink. He takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom.

  Inside, Minn and Dillon have worked wonders—this isn’t my little girl princess room, nor my parents’ royal bedchamber. This room is all ours. The four poster bed has been draped with sheer fabric of the palest pink, the bed a wonder of fluffy, white blankets and pillows. Lights that mimic the look and feel of candles flicker from sconces on the wall and stand alone on the tables at either side of the bed. I breathe deeply, both to steady my nerves and to drink in the sweet, clean smell.

  And then Nic steps closer and all I want to smell is him—a dark, leathery scent that makes my thighs tremble. I find the hem of his shirt and I tuck my hands inside—we both gasp when my fingers brush his skin. He sighs and leans into me, pressing his forehead against mine.

  I begin to unbutton his shirt, one . . . two . . . and feather kisses over his skin. Nic groans and grabs my face, raising me up, then presses a hot kiss to my mouth. He wraps his arms around me as he deepens the kiss, drawing me up onto my toes.

  When desire elicits a soft moan from my lips I think Nic will go wild. He lifts me off the floor and walks the few steps to the bed where he leans against me until we both fall onto it, pillows and blankets billowing up around us.

  In our fervor, we struggle like little children to remove our clothing. Nic’s throaty laughter washes over me and I add mine to his, like a song meant only for us.

  But when the frustration and laughter fade away, and we feel our skin touch . . . his kisses slow, and my touches linger. In the quiet, we help each scoot beneath the sheets. I close my eyes as Nic presses his body to mine and tears burn against my lids.

  I have never hoped to feel such belonging, such love. And it isn’t just the Bond—it is more, it is everything. If Nic and I had had time to get to know one another, if we hadn’t been Bonded since we were children, if the Bond had never been created—I am certain I would choose him, still.

  As I would choose you , Nic says.

  When we make love, perfection radiates through my body and my Blood Crown burns. Our Bond is complete—the Crown and love tying us together in a knot that can never be undone.

  In the morning, we find clothes laid out for us on the bench at the end of the bed. I gather mine without comment, but Sera just stares at hers.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s just . . . this is so strange—I haven’t slept in a proper bed until the other night when the Mind captured me. I haven’t worn proper clothes before the past couple days.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but she hurries on. “At least not that I can remember.”

  She examines each article of clothing—leggings, tunic, an ornate armored vest—and snorts. “I suppose you’re used to this sort of thing.” She doesn’t look directly at me, but by the flush on her cheeks and the small
smile on her lips I know she is secretly watching me dress. She puts her back to me and leans against the bed, silky tunic in her hands. I climb onto the bed and prop myself up on my elbow, watching her.

  She looks at me over her shoulder and I take that as an invitation to touch her, so I brush her hair over her shoulder, then run my fingers through it. Tiny tremors cascade down her back. “Because of your experiences we will understand our people so much better than any ruler has before. And they will love you for it.”

  “But Minn is my friend. She’s older than me. She shouldn’t be serving me. I’m no better than her.”

  I swing my legs over the bed and turn her so she’s facing me. I pull her gently toward me. With a finger under her chin I tilt her face to mine. “You are a worthy queen, my love. You will free your people. Providing you a clean and comfortable place to live, helping you dress in suitable clothing, bringing you food—these are small things compared to freedom. Let them serve you, because you are serving them.”

  She wraps her fingers around my wrist and lets her gratitude for my words infuse my blood. “I’ll try,” she says.

  I grin wickedly and lunge for her, but stop before my lips can find hers.

  Our honor guard has arrived.

  Damn timing.

  I settle for a kiss at the corner of her lips, needing no words to communicate my feelings that echo her own. I move off the bed and hand Sera the rest of her clothing before slipping on my shirt.

  We both wear red, though the insignia on my jacket is hers, not mine. Minn probably raided the king’s clothing and having no access to the crest of the East has dressed me in the clothing of the West. It seems fitting to me—especially since my father seems determined to honor my disinheritance.

  I am sorry for his choice because I think he is wrong, but my father is an obstinate—and a selfish—man. Added to my long list of wrongs—according to him—he cannot forgive me for robbing him of his android servants and advisors.

  Not to mention the members of his navy who have joined my ranks in the West.

  I step into the hall and nod at the soldiers—many young rebels I recognize from my time with them.

  Minn rushes up and moves to push through into our room. I place my hand on her arm. “Maybe give her just a minute,” I say.

  I linger in front of the large mirror attached to the wall in the dressing room. As I look at myself, I have a flash of memory from a time when I’d seen my mother wearing these very clothes. They were never intended for battle, but they are functional. Tall black boots rise over my black-clad knees, nearly meeting the hem of the contoured red velvet jacket. I button the jacket over the lightweight armored vest that Nic secured around my waist and back.

  I gather my hair into a knot at my neck, and I hardly recognized myself. It seems like this is a dream, and I am really just seeing my mother. There is no sign of my technological heritage until I summon the Crown.

  I haven’t seen mine before, only Nic’s.

  It grows in intensity as I watch, first a faded shadow, growing more pronounced and luminescent until it seems a part of me, as if the streams of tech within my blood have stained my skin. Next to it, my eyes appear darker and richer, my skin more fair. Tears gather in my eyes as I consider how far I have come, all the things that have changed.

  I no longer doubt who I am, or what. My skin still warms at the memory of Nic’s touch and I wear my mother’s clothing—the dress of a warrior queen. The Crown that crosses my forehead can’t lie. I can’t borrow or steal it—it is mine.

  And I am Queen.

  Nic steps into the dressing room then, a roll stuffed full of meat and cheese in his hand. He is about to say something, but when he sees me, he stops short, his mouth snapping shut.

  “This for me?” I try to laugh away the embarrassment of being caught admiring myself and reach for the sandwich.

  Nic smiles and holds the food just out of reach while he tugs me to him. His attire matches mine, and as our eyes lock, he reveals his own Crown. He lets go of my waist and tucks a finger beneath my chin, caressing my jaw with his thumb.

  I love you Serantha, Queen of the West.

  With a touch as tender as a feather, he places a kiss on my left cheek, and on my right.

  “I am honored to be your Bonded, to stand for your people, to be your partner in all things.”

  His eyes shine with love and reflect the light in my own eyes.

  “To Bond with you is the greatest honor of my existence.”

  He tilts his head forward until it rests on mine, and I close my eyes. Just breathe.

  I pull courage from Nic and let it mix with my blood, let it feed me, strengthen me. When I slip my hand in his, it isn’t to take, but to give. Together we are equal in courage and determination.

  I snatch the sandwich from his other hand and take a big bite. Nic laughs and shakes his head as I lead him out of the dressing room and toward the fight that will make or break our future—humankind’s future.

  As soon as we step outside of our room, the messages begin. The rebel fleet has arrived and are waiting for us to join them. The Western fleet all remain ready for us to give the word.

  Our guards salute and I see Nic’s hand twitch—he has to restrain himself from saluting in return.

  Stars, this is hard, he says to me. I’ve been a soldier too long. What if I don’t know how to lead them?

  I send him reassuring thoughts and remind him that of course he will know. He already knows. I can feel that truth in my blood, in every cell of my body. It is the one thing I am most sure of. We are meant to lead.

  We’re the last ones that need guarding. We can protect ourselves better than anyone else. Nic gives the guards orders to stand at ease and reaches for my hand.

  True. But if it makes the generals feel better, it’s a small thing . I squeeze his hand and we move down the hall, past our guards who take up positions behind us, and toward the main room.

  I stumble to a stop when I come face to face with Minn and Dillon, holding hands again. Except this time it isn’t their affection for one another that stops me short—it is the armor they wear. The side arms that rest at their hips. The look of grim determination on their faces.

  Nic puts his hand on the small of my back. Let them be.

  I give a mental nod and smile at Minn. “Thank you for this.” I don’t mean just the clothes, or the interior decorating, or the food. Or that they are willing to fight at our sides. I mean thank you for everything. For believing. For helping me believe.

  We can’t fail. Period.

  “M’Lady,” Dillon says, offering a small bow of his head. Minn copies him, but this time I don’t stop them.

  With my Crown emblazoned on my brow I raise my chin and, with my Bonded at my side, I step into the transport and into a new world. A world where humankind will stand up for itself and fight for their survival.

  We spend four minutes, thirty-two seconds recounting the plan with the generals via the multi-channel video conference. From the moment they see Nic and me, dressed in the clothing of the West, our Crowns displayed for all to see, the generals convey a sense of confidence in the plan, and in us. We are united in purpose.

  Even though it will deplete the ships’ power, we agree that every ship in our combined fleet will utilize their warp drives to appear in tandem at the location of the Mind’s ship. We have few advantages to leverage and the element of surprise is our best option.

  The location of the Mind ship has been confirmed and each of us knows the coordinates of our position. We will hit them hard and fast so they have no chance to respond.

  The plan is to materialize in the space around the Mind ship and open fire from every possible angle. Being fewer in numbers, Nic and I will tackle the ship’s defense protocols while the Western fleet keeps them busy. Once those have been taken offline, Nic and the rebel fleet will storm the ship. We feel confident little more will be needed from the Western ships because our surprise attack will give us
the advantage.

  We will wipe them out of existence.

  The East will deal with any individual andies, Elite or otherwise, that may be living on any of the ship-states. Nic and I pressed for leniency as we both remember the kindness and love we received from our Servants. Not all andies seek to destroy the human race or to undermine its evolution.

  As soon as Nic bids the generals a safe journey and good hunting I initiate the countdown and the screens go dark. Our compliment of ten guards have activated flight seats that have been stored in the wall of the control room, while Minn, Dillon, Nic and I strap ourselves in to our seats at the console. When I glance over I see Minn and Dillon holding hands again. I reach out for Nic, and find his hand already stretched toward me.

  “Together,” he says. And in my mind he adds, Always.

  I smile. Always.

  Serantha grips the armrests as the ship gathers power, while I am relaxed. The fleet blinks out of sight seconds before us. My ears pop and it becomes harder to breathe. Sera squeezes my hand harder than is pleasant, but I squeeze back, whispering, Hang on, in her mind.

  We arrive at the rendezvous, and there is no time to acclimate as the battle has already begun. I have barely taken my first full breath before I launch my first missile.

  Our initial volleys meet the Crown's force field, but we expected that. We estimated it will take three hundred and forty-eight rounds of our lowest impact missiles to break through the shield, so that’s what we aim to do. Only our guard ships refrain from firing; they need to be capable of offering some protection should they be needed. I hope they are not.

  I truly believe the Mind will be overcome—I only hope it doesn’t take more time, and more resources, than we have.

  The first blast to strike rocks my confidence.

  It knocks me from my seat and is followed by another before I can regain my footing.

  Minn has also been rocked from her chair, but instead of getting back up she crawls under the console at Dillon’s feet. I don’t blame her—and I figure it is as safe a place as any for her right now. Dillon, though, works the weapons controls like a seasoned pilot and I think again how amazing and resilient humans are. The Mind is wrong for wanting to annihilate us. We are not the abandoned link in the evolutionary chain—we are its purpose, its fulfillment. It is the Mind that doesn’t belong.