“Oh,” I said, not bothering to hide my disappointment.
“But I'll see what I can do, okay?” he said. “If we can get away, we will.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling the crushing weight of hurt press down upon me. “Sure thing. I'll talk to you later then, dad.”
“Talk to you soon.”
I ended the call and dropped my phone onto the bar. I held back the tears that threatened to spill out and tried to maintain my composure. The last thing I needed was for my employees to see me in the middle of an ugly cry.
“It's his loss, you know,” she said.
I felt Josie's hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle, reassuring squeeze. I turned to face her and let her wrap me up in a tight embrace. Josie was the club manager, but she was also my best friend. There were times I didn't think I'd make it through the day without her. She was my rock, my safe place, and the sister I'd never had.
“I should have known,” I said. “I should have known better, and now I'm kicking myself for even putting myself out there like that. Every time I do, I end up in tears.”
Josie gave me a soft smile. “You do it because you're a good daughter,” she said. “And you've got a good heart. It's not your fault your old man is a cold, heartless, son of a bitch.”
“It's what makes him a good lawyer,” I said.
“And a horrible father,” she finished the line she'd heard me say a million times. “But hey, you know that I love you. And I'll be there. Mostly because my paycheck depends on it. But you can count on me.”
Josie grinned and gave me another squeeze. I stood up and wiped the tears from my face. Josie's presence was reassuring and never failed to calm me down. She always knew what to say to help put my mind at ease. Or at least, to take the sting out of certain situations.
I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I love you, Jo.”
“And you know I love you,” she replied. “In ways that are completely unhealthy.”
I couldn't help but laugh. Slowly, I was starting to feel better and more like myself. The energy in the room as we neared the time of the first set was ramping up, and it was infectious. I couldn't help but let the music fill me and open my heart again.
I was the music. The music was me. It filled me and completed me in ways that I still didn't understand. It made me happy, and I deserved to be happy.
Chapter Three: Baz
Having finally managed to calm myself down enough to be rational, I walked into my father's chambers. He was propped up on his bed, looking pale and weak. His skin was dry and leathery, and wet sounding coughs rattled his body. I knew just by looking at him that his time was short.
Kapoc was sitting next to our father's bedside, looking every bit like the concerned son. He played his part very well, I had to give him credit. His eyes widened as I stepped through the doorway, but he regained his composure in an instant. Kapoc was many things – easily rattled was not one of them.
“Your friend sends his regards,” I said to my brother.
A rueful grin touched his lips, but he said nothing. Instead, it was my father who filled the silence between us.
“Kapoc, please leave,” he said, his voice raspy and weak. “I have matters to discuss with your brother.”
Anger washed over Kapoc's face, but he managed to get it under control quickly once more. He cleared his throat and glared at me before turning a solicitous face to our father.
“Of course, father,” he said.
When he'd gone, I took his seat next to my father's bed. He looked at me, a grim smile touching his features. When he spoke, it was with a voice that was surprisingly clear and powerful. And when I looked into his eyes, I still saw the mind of a sharp man, one who was in control of all of the faculties behind them.
“I can tell that something is bothering you, son,” he said. “And I can tell by the tension between you and your brother that he did something to you.”
I shrugged and did my best to play it off. “It's nothing,” I said brightly. “Nothing I couldn't handle.”
My father scrutinized my face, looking deeply into my eyes, and assessed me. He had always been able to see through me and read me. He seemed to know what I was thinking just by looking at me. It was an ability that was as frustrating as it was impressive. I had no doubts that he knew my brother had tried to have me assassinated.
“How many did he send for you?” my father asked.
I gave him a lopsided grin. “Just one,” I said. “But he was very good.”
“Obviously not good enough.” His laughter broke off into a coughing fit.
I grabbed the towel sitting on the table next to his bed and wiped the bloody spittle from his lips. Setting the towel down and picking up a glass of amber liquid, I helped him take a drink.
“You know the doctors believe you should be drinking water,” I said. “And water alone.”
He shrugged. “I'm dying. Water isn't going to save me,” he replied. “Why should I not enjoy a last few glasses of the very best liquor Optorio has to offer?”
I grinned. That was my father – pragmatic and stubborn to the core. “Fair enough,” I said.
We sat in silence for several long moments, each of us looking at the other, lost in our own thoughts. Eventually, he broke the silence.
“You do know that your brother will not stop sending assassins for you. Not until you are dead, and he sits upon the throne.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“So, what will you do about it then, my son?”
I shrugged. “I do not know yet, father.”
He nodded and gave me a small smile. “But now you see why he cannot sit on the throne of our people? A man so desperate for power that he is willing to kill his own flesh and blood to attain it cannot be trusted. Ever.”
I nodded. “Yes, father,” I said. “I know. I know you wish for me to sit upon the throne.”
He gave me a small smile and nodded. “Precisely because you do not want the power,” he said, his voice beginning to fade.
He was right, I didn't want the power. I wanted to be in a ship, rocketing through space, exploring strange new worlds and new places. Immersing myself in foreign cultures that were extraterritorial in origin. My heart was in exploration. That's what would bring me the most joy to my life.
But my father would not hear any of it. First born sons were required to follow in the footsteps of their fathers. It was the way of our people and had been for since the beginning of our civilization. It was my duty to both my family and my people to ascend to the throne when he passed. The trouble was, I didn't want to do my duty. I had no interest in ruling. I just wished I could make him understand that. I'd tried a thousand times before – and it looked like I'd have to try a thousand more.
“Father,” I said. “I think it would serve Optorio and its people better if you appointed a regent council to rule until somebody fit for the throne emerged. I am not fit to rule. You know my heart is not in it.”
A shadow of anger crossed his face. It was a discussion we'd had many times and one he had grown weary of.
“It is your duty, my son,” he said. “Your brother cannot sit on the throne.”
“Let me ask you this, father,” I said, trying a new angle to my argument. “How can I be anything but an ineffectual leader if my heart is not in it? How can I ever truly do right by the people? How will I help this world and our people thrive – as they deserve – if I don't want to sit the throne? At least Kapoc's heart is with this world.”
“Kapoc's heart is with Kapoc,” my father said. “He lusts for the throne for his own power and glory. He will bring death and destruction to this world and our people if he is allowed to lead. You know this.”
“Which is why a regent council would be the best for the people, father,” I said. “Kapoc will bring death and destruction, but I fear I may bring that about as well through neglect and disinterest.”
His chuckle was small, but sounded dry and brittle. “Tha
t is not your heart, my son,” he said. “You know this, and I do as well. When you sit the throne, you will give yourself over to it entirely.”
I feared that he was right. If I ascended to the throne, I feared that I would, indeed, become so fully invested in the role that I would find myself subjugating my own needs, wants, and desires for everybody else. I would wind up neglecting myself instead of the people, and I would very likely live a very lonely, unhappy life.
“You know what must happen,” my father said.
I cocked my head and looked at him, unsure of what he meant. The expression that crossed my father's face was inscrutable.
“Your brother will never stop,” he said. “Not until you are dead. You know this to be true.”
I nodded slowly. I did know that to be true. The question was, what to do about it. Clearly, my father had ideas – and the deep, shadowy part of my mind had an idea as well, though I hoped it was wrong.
He opened his eyes and spoke with authority. “You must do whatever is required for you to secure your throne, Bazarok. Whatever is required.”
The firmness and intensity with which he looked at me left little doubt about his meaning.
“I cannot do that, father,” I said. “I cannot…not my own brother.”
“If you do not, you will pay a heavy price,” he replied. “The ultimate price.”
“Perhaps. But at least I can go to our ancestors with a clear conscience,” I said. “A conscience not stained by fratricide.”
My father sighed heavily. “Bazarok, you will follow me to the throne when I go to meet our ancestors,” he said. “And you will do whatever is required of you to secure your place. Your brother cannot rule.”
I looked at my father and wanted to tell him that if he wanted Kapoc dead so badly, he could have his own men do it. I would not be a party to it. Part of the education my father had thrust upon me were the religious and philosophical teachings of civilizations from our own galaxy and galaxies beyond. It was meant to instill a respect for life into me, the compassion a ruler needed.
But in what was perhaps an unintended consequence, it had instilled a deep and abiding respect for life within me. So much so that the very thought of taking a life was abhorrent to me. I knew that the life I'd taken earlier in the evening would stay with me forever, but that had been a clear case of self-defense. Unless Kapoc came at me with a blade directly, I could not kill him – not even to secure my throne.
And knowing Kapoc as I did, he would not come at me directly. He was much too cautious – and perhaps even cowardly – for that. He would operate through surrogates and assassins. And because he would never challenge me directly, I could not simply kill him. It went against everything I stood for.
“Which is why a regent council–”
“You will rule,” my father's voice boomed and echoed around the chamber. “You, Bazarok. Not a regent council. I will speak of this foolishness no further. You may leave me now.”
He leaned back on his pillows and closed his eyes. The message was clear – I was dismissed. I knew that my arguments against taking the throne disappointed my father. He wanted me to lead Optorio. He wanted me to further his legacy while carving out my own. But that's not what I wanted. Not what I'd ever wanted. And he could not – would not – understand that I wanted to follow my heart and not his commands.
It wouldn't be long before he was gone to meet our ancestors, though. Then, I would have to decide what I was going to do – assume the throne and lead Optorio, or leave our world's future uncertain and chaotic under Kapoc's rule.
I stood and left my father's chamber, my mind and emotions swirling faster than a maelstrom upon the ocean's surface.
Chapter Four
My father didn't speak to me very often over the next couple of days. Of course, he didn't speak to anyone, really. His condition was worsening, and I knew he had very little time left. But then, my father had always been a stubborn and contrary man, so perhaps he would surprise us all by living on for years. It seemed impossible to most, but I was never one to doubt my father.
Kapoc continued to hover over him, posing as the concerned and solicitous son. But to me, he looked more like a carrion bird hovering over a still warm carcass. But in our culture, much was about appearances, and Kapoc was putting on a good show. At least for most.
When we were alone with our father, the air in the room was tense and was filled with the silent promise of violence. When he looked at me, it was with a palpable hatred. His glares were intense, and I could see the thoughts swirling around in his mind. He wanted me dead, and he was simply trying to figure out the best way to go about making that happen.
Unfortunately for Kapoc, as the second son, he was not afforded the education and training I received. Sure, his was better than most of our people's. But he wasn't being educated and trained to sit the throne. It was a slight he carried with him his entire life, and one he would use to justify killing me and taking the throne for himself.
I knew that Kapoc had allied himself with some particularly unsettling and violent elements within our typically peaceful society. He was accruing power underground, collecting forces that he would lead, presumably, in revolution to overthrow me and take control of Optorio for himself.
When the chime on the door to my chambers rang, I had a feeling I knew who was behind it and what they were going to say. With a sigh, I pressed a button on the console of my desk to let him in.
“Baz,” he said. “I bring news. Terrible news.”
I turned in my seat to face Tarkonil, my oldest and most trusted friend and confidante. He had a stricken expression upon his face. It was part sadness and part extreme fear.
“Your father–”
I nodded and held up my hand. “Has gone to our ancestors. I anticipated this news, my friend.”
Tarkonil lowered his head and nodded. “Yes, my lord. He has.”
A bolt of sadness lanced through my heart. There was much about my father that I did not like or appreciate, but there was much I did. After all, he was my father. However, I knew that I would not have much time to grieve, at least not now. Things were undoubtedly already in motion, and I had to move quickly.
“Where is my brother?” I asked. “And stop calling me that. I'm not your king.”
Tarkonil looked up. “But you are,” he said. “With your father gone, rule passes to you.”
I sighed. This was not a point I wanted to argue right then and there. “Where is my brother?”
“He is in his chambers with his advisors.”
“Of course he is.”
“Baz,” Tarkonil said, his tone more familiar – which I preferred, “you know that Kapoc is going to come for you.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“Your coronation is set for three days from now,” Tarkonil said. “I do not believe he will wait until then.”
“Nor do I.”
“So, what will you do?”
I leaned back in my seat. It was a question I'd had to ponder a lot more in recent days, for obvious reasons. Should I honor my father's wishes and take the throne? Or was it better to honor my heart by establishing a regent council, climbing into my ship, and leaving Optorio?
I looked up at Tarkonil. “What would you do?”
His grin was rueful. “I am glad I am not in a position to have to make that decision.”
“But what would you do?”
He sighed. “If I had to choose between sitting the throne and possibly being killed for it,” he started, “or leaving and enjoying the life I've been given, the choice seems rather simple to me.”
I nodded, unsurprised. Tarkonil believed much as I did, that a life devoid of happiness was not a life worth living. He knew my mind better than anyone and knew that I had no desire to sit the throne. The fact that he did not think less of me for it gave me a profound sense of relief.
I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again, having said nothing. I didn't know what to say.
I was genuinely torn.
“Your ship is ready, Baz,” he said. “It has been for some time. As is your list for the regent council. You've already made all of the necessary preparations. All you need to do is get on your ship and go.”
“I just don't know if it is the right thing to do,” I said. “If I leave and Kapoc seizes power–”
“The council has the royal guard at their back,” he replied. “He will not be able to seize control. Not without a fight.”
I nodded slowly as the crux of my problem revealed itself. “The last thing I want to do is leave Optorio in turmoil. I do not want violence and bloodshed for our people.”
“There will be violence and bloodshed regardless of whether you leave of not,” Tarkonil said. “Kapoc is already in motion to seize the throne. There will be fighting, and there will be deaths. You can help minimize that by not leaving a power void and legitimizing the council.”
He was right. If I stayed, there would be civil war as Kapoc's faction sought to overthrow mine. If I left without legitimizing a council, there would be civil war as various factions fought to attain power and control. But if I legitimized a council, there would be a unified front to oppose Kapoc and, hopefully, minimize the bloodshed of the war to come.
“Baz,” Tarkonil continued, “Kapoc is going to move on you soon. You need to make a decision.”
It was a tense situation and my emotions should have been a blur. But I strangely found myself in a place of peace and acceptance. I knew what I needed to do, and I was ready.
“Please have my ship readied,” I said. “I will depart within the hour.”
Chapter Five
I should have known it wouldn't be as easy to escape from Optorio – and from Kapoc – as I'd hoped. I should have known that he'd never let me just leave. But there was that piece of me that still loved him because he was my brother, that still believed the best in him, and that there was a good man somewhere inside of him. The thought made me want to believe that he would do the right thing and do right by our people.
Rocor (Dragons of Kratak Book 5) Page 14