by K. B. Wagers
He bowed and retreated, closing the door behind him.
“Ma’am?”
“Thank you, Stasia.” I took the towel from her, wrapping it around my soaking hair. I climbed out of the bath, taking the second towel with a smile.
I stopped short in the doorway to my bedroom, eyeing the clothes Stasia had laid out on the freshly made bed. The white skirt and top all but disappeared against the linens, only the golden embroidery giving away their presence.
I took the new robe Stasia offered me and sat down in the plush chair by the windows. I grabbed for the blue-handled mug, sinking back against the garish paisley upholstery.
“I’m not wearing that.” My hand shook and I barely kept from spilling coffee on myself. I sniffed at it, grimaced, and set the mug aside.
“Ma’am, you must wear white to see the empress,” Stasia replied.
“The dress,” I agreed. “Fine. But the sari will be red—the darkest one in there.” I waved my free hand at the wardrobe. “Don’t argue with me on this, Stasia, you won’t win. My sisters were murdered and I will not let anyone forget it.”
A frown worried at the space between Stasia’s pale eyebrows, but she obeyed, and I turned my attention to my breakfast as she flipped through the many saris in the wardrobe. I nodded in approval when she produced the one I’d worn the night before, crimson so dark it looked black. Golden tassels danced from the ends.
I finished eating and got dressed. Stasia urged me down onto the vanity seat, and fixed my hair with startling efficiency.
Twitching my skirts out of the way, I took the sari from her and flipped the end over my left shoulder, winding it around my waist so the extra fabric draped over the white silk of my skirt like pooling blood. I wrapped the other end over my head and my right shoulder, giving Stasia a tight smile.
“Shoes, ma’am?” She hit the panel near the wardrobe, and the door slid open to reveal rack upon rack of shoes.
My laughter was sharp. I grimaced, rolling my shoulders and shaking my head. “I’ll go barefoot. Thank you, Stasia. I’m not sure how long this audience with Mother will take. I’ll call you if I need you.”
She dropped into a curtsy. “Yes, ma’am.”
Marshaling my courage, I strode into the waiting room. Emmory and the other four BodyGuards came to attention. I already knew Nal and Zin, and my smati identified the other men at the same time Emmory introduced them.
“Highness, your BodyGuards—Pezan and Salham.” He pointed at each in turn and the men bowed low.
They were all dressed in the standard matte black uniforms, a crimson piping along their cuffs and worked into the detail of the intricate star pattern on their left breasts.
It was similar to the one on Emmory’s left cheek. I pressed a hand to my stomach and stared out the window as I wondered what deadly honor had garnered him the Imperial Star.
The Imperial Star wasn’t issued for just any act of valor, but something above and beyond the call of duty that caused the recipient to walk the road to temple. That award was normally given posthumously and I knew firsthand how that trip changed a person. I’d nearly died so many times over the years, but the most recent experience had been the closest I’d ever come. I’d died twice on that backwater planet and still wasn’t sure how Portis had brought me back. Through sheer force of will most likely.
“Are you all right, Highness?” Emmory asked. I was normally so good at reading people, but he was a challenge, and the concern in his voice seemed genuine. “Your empress-mother wishes to see you this morning.”
“Of course she does.” I saw the flicker of disapproval in his eyes and softened my snappish tone with a smile. “We shouldn’t keep her waiting, Emmory. Shall we?”
He nodded, looking at Nalmari and Zin. “You’re with me. You two stay here.” The other Guards saluted. Nal headed for the doorway, exiting my room first, and Emmory fell into step beside me.
A thousand questions raced through my mind. Who was this man who’d pledged his loyalty to me with such quiet determination last night? How had he gotten the Star? I longed to ask him, but with Nal trailing ahead of us, any conversation was unwise—at least until we figured out if we could trust her.
At this point the odds for that seemed pretty astronomical.
Dad was right. All the work I’d done, all my running and hiding, had been useless. Here I was, right back in the gods-damned intrigue. The bitter thought made me sigh, and Emmory shot me a curious look as we marched down the hallway.
We passed several servants and one caught my eye. A younger man, head down and shoulders tight. His hands were bunched in fists.
“Her Imperial Highness, Princess Hailimi, to see her Imperial Majesty.” Nal announced me to the pair of Guards standing like chess pieces in front of my mother’s doorway and jerked my attention away from the servant.
The door Guards conferred with the ones inside Mother’s rooms over the uplink. Then they pushed open the pockmarked metal door and gestured us inside. My BodyGuards handed over their weapons as they crossed the threshold.
I trailed a hand over the damaged door as we passed. The marks on the surface were from a failed coup attempt in 1990 GD. Princess Kastana hadn’t been happy with the idea of being second fiddle to her older sister, Empress Ilenka, for the rest of her life. She convinced her BodyGuards and a large chunk of the regular Imperial Guard to join her cause, and they assaulted the empress’s quarters.
Empress Ilenka’s BodyGuards, her husband, and her two youngest daughters held out against overwhelming odds until reinforcements arrived and shredded the traitors against the very same door they’d been trying to breech.
Princess Wei had earned the Imperial Star in that battle, fighting like a terror as she bled out from a host of wounds. She had not returned from her walk with the Mother Destroyer, dying in the empress’s arms on the other side of this door.
Kastana was executed and her family cast out of the royal city. And the law forbidding weapons in royal chambers that I’d quoted to Bial last night had been enacted.
The door had never been replaced, but instead stood as a warning to those who would raise a hand against their empress.
“Bet you fifty ravga the first words out of her mouth are critical,” I muttered. Emmory pretended not to hear me while Zin turned his laughter into a choking cough. It appeared my Ekam was taking his new position very seriously while his partner was loosening up. Though neither of them took me up on the bet.
“Your Highness.” Mother’s chamberlain, a young, dark-haired woman named Tye, bowed low to me. “Welcome home. Your empress-mother is doing well today.”
Translation: She was coherent today.
I gave Tye a smile and headed into the sitting room—a smaller room off to the side of the large waiting area.
Mother did look healthier this morning, the mahogany gleam back in her cheeks as she sat in a pool of sunshine. The light reflected off the golden embroidery work on the voluminous sleeves of her heavy robe and the crystal cup in her hand.
Bial stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back. The sunlight threw red highlights into his blond hair. He didn’t turn to look at us when we entered, but I got the distinct feeling he saw everything that happened.
That was fine. I could see things, too. The man was tense but trying to hide it.
I dropped into a curtsy in front of my mother.
“Get up, Hailimi.” Mother’s voice was sharp with an all too familiar annoyance. “Have a seat and have something to drink. There’s no liquor, you’ll have to make do.”
I ignored her sarcastic comment, resisted shooting Zin a look, and took the farthest seat from her even though it put my back to the door. My Trackers settling in behind me was enough to put me at ease.
“Your choice of color is duly noted,” Mother continued with a sniff as I reached for a crystal glass filled with the pinkish juice of a water-orange. “Even if it is too late as usual. The terrorists responsible for the deaths of the p
rincesses have already been executed.”
“What? What terrorists? Who was responsible? How did you find them so quickly?”
“What do you mean what terrorists?” Mother snapped. “Those who would undermine the empire, Hailimi. Those damn Upjas murdered my niece, my daughter, and the Crown Princess!”
I winced at the fury in her voice, and swallowed back the protest that automatically rose in my throat, pleased with myself for not falling straight back into our old pattern of bickering with each other.
The Upjas were a Gordian knot of rebels in the heart of the empire who called for a relaxation of the class system and a return to what they saw as the days of equality when the empire had been a member of the Solarian Conglomerate.
Social, economic, and political equality of the sexes.
I didn’t agree with their demand to abolish the monarchy, but there was also no way in hell I’d ever admit to my mother that the Upjas had a point about some of the more archaic social laws in the empire. Or that both Cire and I had been in contact with them before I’d left home.
Instead, I asked the question I knew put me out on a limb. “You don’t think that’s the slightest bit suspicious? Why didn’t they try to kill you? If they infected Pace with ebolenza, don’t you think they could have struck down the whole palace? It doesn’t make any sense. The Upjas have never wanted us dead. They just want change—”
“They want revolution!” She cut off my protests with a sharp look and a wave of her hand. “We didn’t ask for your return home so we could speak to you of your sisters. They are dead and gone. There is nothing more to do. If you’d cared about them at all, you wouldn’t have left in the first place.”
A cold weight settled into my stomach, and I stifled the smart remark even though it hurt. “Why did you ask for my return home, Your Imperial Majesty?” I didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of my voice as I echoed her words. She and I both knew who’d really wanted me back and who’d sent my Trackers after me. Her eyes narrowed at the veiled insult.
“Leave us, all of you,” she said.
That was enough to get Bial away from his contemplation of the window. “Your Majesty—”
“Don’t argue with me, Bial. I’m perfectly safe in my own rooms, and my own daughter isn’t going to try to kill me. It would just bring justice down on her head that much swifter.” Mother smirked a mirthless smile in my direction and I tightened my grip on my glass until I was afraid it would crack in my hand.
She was right, of course. I kind of wanted to smack her senseless, but I wouldn’t kill her. That would just be rude. Not to mention it would immediately elevate me to a position I didn’t want.
“Very well, Majesty.” Bial bowed stiffly and headed for the door.
“I’ll be right outside, Highness,” Emmory murmured.
“Mother—”
“To answer your question—the future of this empire is my concern, Hailimi. As my primary heir—gods help us all—so it is also yours.”
I choked on my juice, just barely swallowing it instead of spraying it all over my dress. Oh, bugger. There was that spark in Mother’s eyes again.
“I’ve assembled a group of suitors for you, daughter. Pick one. Marry him or not, we don’t care. Don’t feel you need to wait for the ceremony, though, if you do. I expect you to have a daughter of your own before the summer comes. The least you could do for our sahotra is to make the same sacrifices the rest of us have.”
9
The sahotra; always the family. It was all she’d thought of since she’d put that damn crown on her head. If only she knew what I’d done for the family, everything I’d given up. Hatred welled up in me again as I stared at my mother’s implacable expression, and any plans I had not to let her goad me back into behaving like the bratty daughter she remembered went up in smoke.
“I don’t fucking think so.” I was kind of shocked by the cold curse, but Mother was surprisingly unfazed by my behavior.
“Uff.” Mother exhaled the annoyance. “Be grateful we will give you leave to choose your own betrothed. We believe that was your issue the last time, was it not?”
“You can’t do this!” I knew I shouldn’t have said it the moment the words slipped out. Mother would let my cursing slide more often than not, but questioning her authority had always been treading on the edge of treason as far as she was concerned.
Never mind she was completely off the mark. I’d left to hunt the last man of the trio responsible for my father’s assassination. I’d stayed away because I’d been done with someone else picking my future for me. I’d been finished with the idea that my mother got to dictate my entire life. Tired of Indranan society not valuing people for who they were, only caring about what they could provide for throne and country.
“We can do whatever we please, ungrateful child!” Immediately it was the empress speaking and not my mother, and that cold, formal royal “we” was a fist in my stomach. “Hope is gone—lost with the death of your sisters. We are stuck with you, but we will do what is necessary to save this empire and so will you.”
Even had my mother known why I left, she wouldn’t have cared. She hadn’t wanted me looking into my father’s killers in the first place. She thought I was a spoiled brat, just like Emmory did. I couldn’t stop my tongue. “You forget. I left. I don’t care about this empire. I’d just as soon watch it burn.”
Fury raced over Mother’s cool features, putting even more color on her cheeks and a fevered light in her eyes. She lurched to her feet. “Watch your tongue or I’ll have it removed.”
I got to my own feet. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No one around who’d dare tell you no. No one to tell you you’re inhuman. Go ahead, Mother, if you think you have the stomach for it, I dare you to take it out yourself.”
I did not expect her to hit me, so the slap caught me right in the cheek, whipping my head to the side. I stumbled into the table, knocking glasses to the floor before I righted myself.
That crashing, predictably, brought the BodyGuards back into the room.
“Highness?” Emmory’s voice was wary with concern.
“I’m fine.” I stared at the blood smeared over my fingertips with amusement. “Just a family feud. I’ve been hit harder by boys barely old enough to shave.”
“Hailimi, you are going to produce a child and save this family’s claim to the throne.”
I looked away from Emmory. Mother was pale again, leaning heavily on Bial, who watched her with a frown. The slap had shaken some sense back into me and I retreated back into the habits I’d acquired with Po-Sin. Considering my options, I went for the one that was the least offensive—not that anyone would believe it.
“Over my dead body, Your Majesty.”
“That can be arranged,” Mother snapped. “I’ll speak to your father about this.”
My father?
Bial’s quick shake of his head and the sudden tension in Emmory’s hand stopped the question before it could slip out. Bugger me, I’d pushed her too far. There was a moment of silence as we all stared at each other.
“Bial, I’m not having a maid with green hair. Tell that girl to go,” Mother said.
“Curtsy, Highness.”
I was too shocked to do anything but obey Emmory’s whispered order and dropped into a quick curtsy. As Emmory hustled me from the room, I caught sight of my mother chattering away at her Ekam like a schoolgirl.
My victory over dodging a royal order tasted like ash in my mouth as the full weight of my mother’s predicament—and mine—settled onto my shoulders.
I’d probably adjusted the best out of all my sisters to the transition of Mother becoming empress. I was used to going my own way, and I’d spent more time with Father anyway, so the sudden demands which dragged her away didn’t reduce me to sullen silence like Cire or fits of temper like Pace.
No, I just went on about my business as though nothing had happened, and for a few years that worked perfectly. Then some hideous soul
decided we had to start going to court with Mother, and my misery was found in spending hours bored out of my mind as my ass slowly went numb in the gilded chair that had been made for me.
That was when the trouble really started. It only got worse after Father died. I’d thought tracking down his killers would convince Mother to allow my early entrance to the Naval Academy. Instead it earned me an arranged marriage and Mother’s refusal to let me into the Academy at all.
No one said a word as we exited Mother’s rooms and headed back down the hallway. Nalmari was in the front again, Emmory beside me, and Zin brought up the rear.
I was so distracted by the scene I’d just witnessed, trying to reconcile this woman with the one I used to know, that I almost missed the attack when it came.
The same servant I’d noticed on my way in was still there and he lunged at me.
“Knife!” Emmory shouted, spotting the weapon at the same time I did.
Instinct kicked in. I avoided the man’s first swing, moving toward my attacker and landing a blow to his ribs with the side of my hand. Before I could hit him again, Emmory shoved me back into Zin. We cracked heads. Stars floated in front of my eyes and the scene played itself out in slow motion as Zin covered my body with his own, turning us away from the danger.
Emmory slapped the black-bladed knife to the tiles. He caught the young man’s arm and struck him in the face with an open palm, snapping his head back.
“Princess, back to the empress’s quarters,” Nal ordered. She had her gun out, but with Emmory in the way, there wasn’t a clear shot. I saw her jaw tighten and she raised her weapon anyway.
I lunged into Zin, knocking him into Nal and nearly sending all three of us into Emmory and my attacker. Zin swore, righting himself and propelling me back toward Mother’s door. I didn’t fight him; that had been enough to disrupt the moment and any potential shot Nal had.
Emmory caught the attacker by the throat and swept him to the ground.
My attacker landed on his back, and a shudder ran through me when I locked eyes with him over Zin’s shoulder. “Long live the revolution. Death to the throne,” he said, and clamped his mouth shut.