And it all became clear. “He could no longer save her, but he could avenge her. So he devised a scheme to kill the Emperor. And me. And then…” He could not bear to say any more.
Abernathy continued the thought for him. “And then, as the senior ranking cabinet member for external affairs, he could take command and halt the invasion before it could do any real harm. By the time the Houses decided on a successor, Corellis would be a distant memory, and far down the list of concerns for the new Emperor. He may even have had designs on the throne himself.”
Lucien stared at his father, and that emptiness he had felt before seemed to engulf his entire being. It had all been a lie. All of it.
“She was right,” he murmured to himself. “We are to blame for it all.”
“What was that, my Prince?”
“Leave me. Both of you.”
After a brief hesitation, two sets of footsteps left the room and the door shut behind them. Lucien just stood there, feeling his world, everything he had thought to be true, crumble away. At some point, he began to weep.
The airlock leading to Princess Ophelia’s ship opened, and she turned and made a small curtsy. “Fare well, Prince Lucien,” she said. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She was back in blue, with the hair to match. But unlike their first meetings, she did not wear that small, knowing smile. Her expression was reserved, distant, as though what she had seen in the duel put her off to him.
He could not say he blamed her.
He returned the curtsy with a short bow of his own. “And you, Princess.” He paused, then glanced aside, to where Deela, Abernathy, and a quartet of Marine guards stood. Then he stepped a bit closer and lowered his voice. “I owe you an apology.”
Her eyebrows rose.
Lucine looked away for a moment. “I thought you were the one who poisoned my father, and I was rude to you because of that.”
“But you no longer think it.”
He shook his head. “Ymmersen told me you were not involved.”
“You believed him?”
“He had no reason to lie. He was about to kill me.”
Ophelia did smile then, a crafty grin that did not reach her eyes. “He underestimated you.”
Lucien shook his head again. “No. He was better than me. If he had not stopped to gloat… But no matter. Done is done, but I treated you poorly, and for that I apologize.”
Ophelia inclined her head to him. “Apology accepted.”
“Good.” He stepped back again and raised his voice. “I have learned some things recently. Troubling things. And until I fully get to the bottom of them, I am calling off the campaign in Corellis. The order went out this morning.” He tried to manage a smile. “You can tell your father you were successful in your mission.”
Her eyes widened, in surprise he thought at first, then in pleasure. “I am happy to hear it.” She paused, then smiled, more warmly than she had in days. “Thank you, Lucien.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
She nodded. “I know. I thank you anyway.”
They stood there for a long moment, just looking at each other. Lucien found, as he always did, that he could probably spend an eternity soaking up her features and never grow bored of the sight.
A softly-cleared throat brought him back to reality. He glanced over to where Abernathy stood looking impatient, and felt his cheeks flushing from embarrassment.
“Well,” Lucien said, “I hope we will meet again, Princess.”
“I think that can be arranged. Until then, your Highness.” She gave him one of those knowing smiles, then she turned and strode into her ship. Deela followed, but she took a moment to look him up and down and roll her eyes slightly before she stepped through the door.
The airlock door slid shut, and Lucien could not help chuckling.
“A most interesting young lady,” Abernathy observed.
“That she is,” Lucien said. “That she is.”
“In her own way, I think she is more deadly that Baron Ymmersen ever could have hoped to be.” Abernathy looked sidelong at him. “Be careful you do not get taken unawares, my Prince.”
Lucien felt his mirth fading, and he nodded agreement. She was one to be handled carefully, for sure. It would be a good handling, though. But that was a thought for another day. Romance, or whatever it was between the two of them, could wait. He had an Empire to set right.
He turned and limped from the room. “Summon the high council, Abernathy,” he said over his shoulder. “We have work to do.”
“As you command, my Prince.”
And so he set off to remake the Empire. His father had built it upon duplicity and conquest, but he would see it become a nation that acted with honesty and honor. And maybe even something a republican-minded Princess could approve of.
There were worse goals to have.
Message From The Author
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About The Author
Michael Kingswood is 20-year veteran of the US Navy submarine force and a lifelong fan of science fiction and fantasy literature. He holds a bachelors degree in Mechanical Engineering as well as a Master of Engineering Management and a Master of Business Administration. He currently resides in San Diego with his wife and four children.
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More Books By Michael Kingswood
Glimmer Vale Chronicles
Glimmer Vale
Out-Dweller
Tollard’s Peak
Robbed Blind
Wedding Gifts: A Glimmer Vale Chronicles Story
The Falconer’s Stairs
The Pericles Conspiracy
Passing In The Night
The Pericles Conspiracy
Dawn Of Enlightenment
Masters Of The Sun
Novellas
What Lurks Between
The Necromancer’s Lair
The Champion
Veritas Morte
Story Collections
Tales Of Adventure #1
Tales Of Adventure #2
Short Story 10-Pack
A Jar Of Mixed Treats
Short Fiction
Michael has also published a number of shorter works, links to which can be found on his website.
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Copyright © 2014 by Michael Kingswood (http://michaelkingswood.com)
Cover Art Copyright © draco-zlat
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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