by Wren Weston
Luckily, a young, caring senator with a great deal of potential had made the job easier. Henri Lemaire, Lila’s father, had become a close friend and confidant of the young chairwoman. A decade ago, she had repaid that kindness by helping him become the American prime minister.
Lila couldn’t imagine becoming a mother at seventeen, nor could she imagine attending the execution of a few murderous aunts. But by the time her mother had become pregnant, she’d already run a company worth several billion credits. She’d done well for the family over the last thirty years, tripling their holdings and wealth. She’d also wormed her way onto the Saxony High Council of Judges, which made the Randolphs one of the most important families in the state. She’d even begun buying land in Unity, her eye already on the nation’s capital.
“You might not like it, Lila, but this is the only way I can keep you safe and ensure the security of the family. I have thousands to think about, not just the whims of my eldest daughter, a daughter who has put herself in a very precarious position. A chief does what she must to protect the family. This is what you must do to protect us now. If you refuse to accept your new role, then you will no longer be a part of this family.” The chairwoman refilled Lila’s glass, then looked her daughter in the eye. “What will it be? Will you finally become the prime you were always meant to be, or will you choose exile instead?”
Lila felt the morning room close in around her. It would have been easier if her mother had fixed her with the same look she reserved for the boardroom, but that expression did not lurk behind her eyes.
Pity filled them instead.
Lila looked away first. She returned to the table and snatched up her abandoned wine.
The chairwoman nodded, taking it for assent. “I’m sorry, Lila. I did try to let you live your life the way you wanted, but for all I know, my time is growing short. I’ve already outlived my mother. I have to think of the family and its future.”
“You’re not dead yet.”
“Much to your dismay, I’m sure. Your first act as prime is drawing near. You have an appointment at noon to have your birth control reversed.”
“Oracle’s light,” Lila whispered. Her mother’s demands had crystalized before her, like a fanged wolf, circling.
It growled, lunged, and snapped at her womb.
She clutched her belly, unnerved.
“Bullstow marks the end of legislative session on Friday, Lila. After the Closing Ceremony, the High Senate will throw their annual Closing Ball. You need to be ready.”
Lila drained her wine in one long swallow. During the Closing Ball, women from highborn families and very prosperous lowborn families selected men for the season, that time when every local, regional, and national legislature closed its doors. From mid-November until April, senators expended all their efforts on making babies, rather than laws, all in order to tie themselves to the people.
That wasn’t the only reason, of course. Men raised in Bullstow, especially senators, really loved having children. A senator didn’t consider himself remotely finished with his family unless he had at least a dozen, and none would breathe easily until he had a son to raise. But only heirs gave up their firstborn sons to government service, handing them off to their fathers and Bullstow soon after birth.
As such, heirs without sons were mobbed in every ballroom by well-dressed senators trying their best to tempt the lady into a season. Lila avoided highborn events for that reason, even though her role as heir was fuzzy and unofficial. Senators became quite frustrated when an heir claimed she did not want any children. It usually ended up as some extended legislative session where small groups of men attempted to filibuster her into changing her mind.
And now she had Tristan to think about.
She didn’t want another lover, not if she was honest with herself, but perhaps she needed one. She’d completely lost herself in the man. She was a highborn, for oracle’s sake. She’d never let herself end up like Jewel, letting one man absorb all her attention. It was pathetic and clingy and…
Weird.
“It’s not too late to find a good match,” her mother said. “Many of the truly eligible men are rather coquettish until the last moment, holding out for precisely this sort of situation. Providing you with a daughter would make any senator’s political career or his happiness should you bear a son. Both are valuable to a woman in your position. You’ll have your pick of men. It will be the talk of the highborn and good for business.”
“I’m to choose a partner for the season based only on one party?” Lila despaired at how ridiculous her life had become in an hour.
“Choose or don’t choose, but Wolf Industries requires a new heir. At the very least, we need a firstborn son to send to Bullstow. It will signal to the rest of New Bristol that our family has settled at last. Our stock has declined over the last few years due to your sister’s ill-placed constancy.”
“Not just her constancy.”
“Lila,” her mother said gently. For the first time in her life, Lila saw a hint of desperation in the chairwoman’s eyes. “Wear the whitecoat and commit to a child. It has always been your duty, just as it was Shiloh’s duty to go to Bullstow. You’ve had your fun, and perhaps it’s my fault for indulging you, but it is time to grow up. You must do this for the sake of the family and your own future, and you know it.”
She had seen her mother’s face as she gambled on a deal.
This wasn’t it.
Lila stayed silent, hating her mother for her ultimatum, hating that she must choose between joining the family as prime or being an exile among the poorer classes, powerless to wield any influence to help the family at all.
When she finally spoke, her words came out thin and weak. “Not prime, Mother, not until I’ve chosen a senator for the season. I don’t want the fuss at the Closing Ball. Besides, I still need to clean up my mess.”
“I understand.”
“Reschedule the appointment, too. I have a prior commitment.”
“Fine, I’ll change your appointment to five o’clock this evening. A car will pick you up in front of the house. For what it is worth, I am sorry. This is what happens when you are born with responsibility and duty and talent.”
The chairwoman tinged the last few words with a sad half-smile.
Lila could not help but think that part of her mother in that moment was fourteen years old again, still at breakfast, told that she would begin running an empire as soon as she finished her meal.
Chapter 3
Lila sat at her desk, her gaze focused on the silver coat of arms nailed above her couch. When her computer beeped, she logged into WolfNet as her sister, something she’d only ever done to protect the interests of the family. Perhaps curiosity had pushed her into the hack this time, coupled with the implications to her future. Or perhaps she only worried that Senator Dubois’s condition might strike another senator.
A man like Dubois did not go sterile for no reason.
Scrolling through Jewel’s inbox, she found half a dozen messages from several sets of doctors. She pulled Dubois’s medical records from the emails and saved them to an empty star drive, taking care to redact the senator’s name from the information. The records did not seem altered in any way, but Lila couldn’t help but wonder again at Dubois’s predicament. Doctors had only diagnosed a handful of senators with fertility problems since they’d begun testing the interns, and they could trace every case to illness, injury, or age.
As far as she knew, Dubois had not caught any illness, nor fallen to an injury.
Alex brought a kettle of tea. She questioned Lila with every glance, every bow of her head, every raised brow, but Lila was not ready to explain what had occurred in the morning room. The pair had known each other for a long time. Alex knew when to back away.
She left Lila to her thoughts.
Lila was glad for it. After she
visited the clinic, rumors would spread. She just needed a chance to get used to the idea before that happened.
Would she really do this? Would she really abandon her career and take up one she had no interest in? Would she really have a child?
Her family needed her, didn’t they? Thousands of Randolphs throughout Saxony waited for her to carry on her mother’s reign.
She wanted to remain part of the family, didn’t she?
Perhaps this was the only way to deserve them, after what she’d done at the warehouse.
Perhaps accepting her mother’s demand would stop the dreams.
Lila put the thought out of her mind. She pulled the star drive from her desktop and thrust it into her coat pocket. Snatching up her teacup and kettle, she padded toward her sister’s chamber next door, her boots muffled by a pastel rug near the entrance. A struggling fire lit the dim room, little more than embers glowing among ash.
Jewel’s room always suffocated her. Her sister had chosen the paintings carefully from her most brilliant works, each one spared the accolades of its neighbor by perfect spacing. She’d imbued most with happy flourishes of blues, greens, and purples. Above the bed, a nude young woman wrapped herself around a bedpost, coyly waiting for her lover. Near the dresser, two young men in short breeches and nothing else grasped one another during a wrestling match, a match for fun rather than competition. Jewel had placed sadness in the corners. A bone-thin cat ran through the crumbling ruins of a castle, hidden by ivy. Above the fire, two demons wrapped around each side of a woman, pressing against her thighs and hips, whispering in her ears.
Lila didn’t know what to make of that one. Jewel had asked her to sit for it the day she turned eighteen and officially abdicated as prime. Lila hadn’t known what the painting would look like until her sister had finished. Though intended as a gift, Lila could not hang it. It unsettled her too much.
She wondered what Jewel would paint now, if she knew all that she’d done.
Perhaps the demons would have her face this time.
Her mother had not escaped her sister’s work, either. Paintings hung in several New Bristol galleries with her face. The only comment she had made upon seeing them was that they did not contain enough red.
But Jewel never painted with the color, no matter the size of the commission.
The rest of the room was lux, elegant, and far more sophisticated than Lila’s would ever be. Whereas Lila had abandoned her room to the care of a minimalist designer, Jewel had sent hers away and designed her room unaided. A canopied bed dominated the back, large enough for a ménage à trois or ménage à ten. Gossamer silk poured down the bedposts like the trailing wisp of a fairy’s hem. Heavy tapestries hung over the windows to keep away the light. The other side of the space held two white love seats and a matching plush chair, forming a faux-parlor. Pale white dressers and tables made of spruce dotted the room. Several pedestals held small marble sculptures, twisted into the shapes of fantastical creatures.
Lila stood at the door awkwardly as though she was unworthy to enter the bedroom. When her gaze flicked to the lumps in bed, lumps that had not stirred at her entrance, she gritted her teeth and pushed inside.
Jewel’s couch scraped against the floor as Lila plopped down.
She poured a cup of tea and sipped impatiently. Jewel did not wake early at the best of times. If she had stayed up all night, perhaps she had decided to take off work for the entire day and sleep in.
It must be nice to care so little.
Propping her boots upon the glass table before her, Lila leaned deeper into the couch. The wine from breakfast had set to work upon her, relaxing her muscles like a practiced masseuse. She nearly fell asleep. Her teacup tipped several times, nearly splattering her raw fingers with hot liquid as she waited for her sister and the senator to wake.
A not completely accidental banging of china betrayed her as she poured a second cup.
The lumps twitched.
Jewel woke with a start.
“What the— Who the—” she shrieked, snatching up a bedside lamp. Lila wondered what her sister intended to do with it from the leisure of her bed, especially since it was still plugged in.
Senator Dubois sat up. “Whuddadoear?” he mumbled groggily.
Lila thought about letting the scene play out. What would the pretty prime and the handsome senator do against an intruder? Ring for a workborn to deal with it? Perhaps yell at Alex to attack the shadow with her heels?
“Relax,” Lila said as she stood up. She padded to a window and drew back the curtains, letting the sunlight stream into the room.
Jewel cursed and squinted against the brightness.
Dubois ducked his head under a pillow. The senator seemed to have a harder time with mornings than any Randolph. Jewel often joked that he only assented to their seasons together because the chairwoman gifted him with a steady supply of coffee, a brand flown in directly from Brazil. Lila had not known before how much the senator might need it every morning.
“What are you doing here so early?” Jewel groaned, pulling the covers over her naked breasts.
Lila ignored the question and continued her assault. She worked steadily around the room, throwing open the curtains at every window. “Senator Dubois, it’s time for you to take a shower. I need to speak with my sister.”
The senator finally removed his head from the pillows. He ran his fingers through his long blond hair, somehow not overly mussed from an entire night in bed, and rubbed sleepily at his hazel eyes. The man had a calming air about him that the most successful senators possessed, as well as a beauty that only grew when he woke without a shave or clothes.
They likely taught such things at Bullstow.
Perhaps it was an entire semester’s class.
Dubois bowed his head at his future sister-in-law and stifled a yawn. He stripped off a sheet and wrapped it around his midsection, then stumbled toward the bathroom.
“Not here. Go home to Bullstow.”
The senator raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Jewel, saying nothing of Lila’s rudeness. Bullstow taught senators from a young age not to reproach anyone for anything but the most grievous offense. Diplomacy called for such patience.
“Louis, how about coffee?” Jewel asked. “Please ask Chef Ana for a cup while I speak with my sister. Ask her to make us something nice for breakfast, too. Whatever you want is fine with me.”
“Yes, madam.” Dubois snatched up his clothes and ducked behind an antique changing screen in the corner.
Jewel glared at her sister.
Lila resumed her perch on the couch and glared back. A silent battle loomed between two alley cats, fought with warring eyes instead of warring paws.
To his credit, the senator dressed quickly. He dashed out again a moment later, pausing only to offer his fiancée a kiss on the forehead.
Perhaps they practiced quick exits at Bullstow. Perhaps they had even tests.
“You didn’t have to be so rude,” Jewel snapped when the door closed, throwing on her robe and tying the belt around her waist angrily. Her brown hair tangled fetchingly around her neck, and even in anger, her sky-blue eyes were lively and doll-like, though rimmed in red. “He’s to be your brother-in-law, and we talked until early this morning. He’s still exhausted, as am I.”
“I’m exhausted too. Mother recalled me from my vacation.”
Jewel’s mouth dropped open. Her pale cheeks reddened. She knelt before Lila on the rug and placed her head in her sister’s lap. “I wanted to tell you first. I tried to contact you last night before we told—”
Lila shook her off. “Crying and carrying on at your age? Stand up and face me like a woman, not like a child.”
“You don’t have to be rude.”
“Rude? Since when is telling the truth rude?” Lila stood up to pace from one end of the room to the other.
“Because you didn’t mean it as the truth, you meant it to wound. You were being mean.”
“Mean? What are you? Five?” Lila did not hold in her laugh this time, a laugh of pure frustration. Gods, Jewel hadn’t changed at all. She really couldn’t lead the family, not now, not ever. “I don’t care if I sound rude or mean right now. You promised, Jewel. You promised that you would be prime. Ever since we were children, you promised. You told me how lucky you were to have an elder sister who would pass the honor onto you. Now you’re taking back that vow as if it meant nothing.”
“I was a child! I didn’t know what it meant back then. You can’t expect me to keep a promise I made when I was twelve.”
“I never even got the chance to promise!”
Jewel shifted on the floor. “My life has changed a great deal since then.”
“So has mine! I worked my way up from nothing in the security office. Do you think it mattered who my mother was in the barracks? I stayed up so many nights chasing intruders and finding boogeymen in WolfNet. I protected you when you messed up your office. I traded away my youth to make chief, and I did it all on my own. I earned it. Now it turns out that everything I worked for during the last ten years was for naught.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. You didn’t spill wine on my favorite coat, Jewel. You didn’t wreck my car. You’ve taken away my life. I could have spent my twenties in bed like you, flat on my back in the arms of some senator, but I didn’t because I had a job to—”
“Don’t—”
“Oracle’s wrath, Jewel, you gave me your word!”
Jewel pressed her lips together, the effort hardening the lines in her mouth. “Did I? Did I really promise it of my own free will, or was I endlessly talked into it by an older sister who never wanted to face her duty?”
“My duty? Why is it my duty? Just because I’m older?”
“Yes, just like Shiloh was sent to Bullstow because he was the firstborn son, whether he wanted to go or not. Do you think Pax should have taken his place just because Shiloh might not have wanted such a life?”