by Ada Harper
“You prove everything,” she whispered.
She looked down, her face suddenly twisted and caught up in conclusions Galen couldn’t follow. It hurt to watch. When she raised her eyes again, tension had fled out of her. It didn’t feel like winning. “You can’t abandon your country. You’re right. I... I’ll figure something else out. I always do.”
Galen felt around the uneasy edge of that, hands tightening on hers. “Don’t disappear on me, Liv.”
Her head tilted and pressed soft against his. “I’m here.” Her voice was small, soft. Galen gathered her onto his lap, pressing kisses to her salt-stained cheeks. She’d been crying. He wanted to say more, pull more reassurances out of her, but she stopped the words at his lips. Her clever hands slid beneath his collar, playing with the torque of gold. Her own bare neck was temptation’s breath away from his lips. She nipped at the shell of his ear, and her sigh drifted coils of heat straight to his groin. This time, her voice was burred with intent when she said it again. “I’m here.”
Chapter Twenty-One
No one stopped her on the way to the empress’s private residence. An honor guard stood outside the door, firm and foreboding. The blindfolded knightsguards had to be aware of her approach, but no one moved until she reached for the door. Their heads turned, and a shift underneath their ornamental cloaks said there were probably weapons pointed at her that she couldn’t see. Olivia contemplated her options and addressed the door instead. “I need to see the empress.”
CHARIS was a cozy amber glow this late at night. “Her Highness has retired for the evening.”
“It’s urgent.”
“I am aware of no emergencies within the court, but I will be happy to log your request.”
“You do that,” Olivia said. “I’ll wait.”
“Empress Sabine will have no audience until morning.”
“I’ll wait,” Olivia repeated, twisting to slouch against the door.
It was a feat to stun an AI into silence. CHARIS’s amber fluttered. “If you seek counsel, I can summon Lady Maris.”
“Summon whoever you like, but I’m tired of talking. Might get opinionated. Loud.” The hall was well trafficked, even this late at night. As the minutes ticked by, Olivia made a show of greeting each servant or noble who walked by. It earned her curious looks, which would surely carry into rumors. One of the knightsguards shifted uncomfortably. She wagered their orders on how to treat the duke’s intended didn’t include hauling her off like a sack of potatoes.
Olivia was close to testing that when the wall beside her lit up again.
“Her royal highness will see you now.”
That had worked faster than she’d hoped for. Her surprise was replaced with a slow seep of dread that made her stomach twist. She suddenly didn’t want to go in. She didn’t want to beg the Spider Queen for help, didn’t want to know what it would cost her. But her mind dredged up Yoshi’s scared voice, the way Galen had offered to carve out his heart, and Olivia pushed through the doors.
Olivia wasn’t sure what she’d expected of Sabine’s private quarters. A gold couch, lace doilies, the bones of her enemies, maybe. Definitely not a cozy sitting room, thick with cherry smoke. She stepped in and a thick carpet swallowed her footfall. The doors closed behind her with a solid snick. Sabine curled at the end of the couch like a cat, a reading slate in her lap, soft blue cotton wrap so different from her rigid embroidered dress. She put down her book and regarded Olivia with a look that was tired, not regal. “Do they not have business hours in the Syndicate?”
“None that I ever learned.” Olivia hesitated at the edge of the rug.
Sabine looked resigned then gestured, drawing Olivia uncertainly to the edge of the couch. “Sit.” She poured tea into a waiting cup. “I also have difficulty sleeping when a decision puts lives in my hands.”
Olivia felt a cold certainty form in her gut. “Lyre told you about the call.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a spider if I didn’t hear things.” Something approaching a genuine emotion fluttered across Sabine’s face, almost too fast to catch. The only reason Olivia did was because it was the same twitch of the eyes, tightening of jaw, that Galen got when he wanted to do something he wasn’t allowed. Regret. “Your country is cruel. You have my sympathies.”
Sympathies. She was speaking as if Yoshi’s family was already dead. “I’m not here for your pity.”
Sabine set down the pot and looked at her. “And what are you here for?”
“I want you to stop it.”
“You assume I have that much reach into a foreign—and, quite frankly, hostile—government?”
“I’ve met Lyre.”
“Fair.” Sabine inclined her head. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you are asking me to do.”
“I want you to get them out. Give me the resources to do it and I’ll do the rest, if need be. But we extract Yoshi, Emeric, and Jael immediately, no waiting. Get the Syn to release them unharmed, no charges. Then you will get them out of the country entirely. I don’t trust the Whispers to let things go.”
“And?”
...and? Olivia hadn’t thought about fucking and. It was like blinking and realizing you had both the cheese and the trap that went with it. She chewed on her lip. “Immunity. For all of us. Protective asylum for Yoshi’s family if they want it. And change my Syndicate records back to genta.”
“You think you can still go back?”
“I want to know my options. The Syn isn’t a forgiving country.”
“Fair enough.” Sabine paused. “But my resources are not infinite. You might have observed we’re otherwise occupied right now. Why should I do such a thing when I could simply watch this play out? Either you’ll run off and get yourself killed, or your friends will suffer and you’ll blame all of us for not acting. Either way, I think your interest in staying here as my brother’s mate will disappear.”
Olivia gritted her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. “You have that already planned out.”
“Lyre does. It’s what she’s paid to do.”
Sabine looked at her, and Olivia hated the expression. It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t even calculating. Sabine was holding herself apart too much for it to be sympathetic but the softness at her eyes...no. Sabine wasn’t her brother. So she was simply waiting.
Waiting to see what Olivia would give up.
“I’ll collaborate with the Empire. You can send me back as a spy.”
“Not a very good spy if we just tipped our hand saving your friends.”
“I know enough about how the Whispers work. How they pick their targets. The dissident factions and cults in the Syndicate.”
Sabine plucked back up the cigarillo that had been smoldering cherry smoke in the tray. She studied it. “I find it strange how you’re trying to barter cooperation that you’ve already offered. Was I mistaken?”
Olivia’s hands were locked into fists at her side. She forced them to relax, slowly, joint by painstaking joint. “Then what do you want?”
Sabine tapped her smoke. “I was an artist once.”
The change in topic was innocuous and felt exactly like the jaws of a trap pulling shut. “What?”
“I was an artist, once, before I was Empress. Do try to keep up, my dear.” Sabine’s smile was wan, veering toward sadness. “We were not raised to rule an Empire.”
“But I thought—”
“My mother was sister to Emperor Rythe. First Emperor of Roucheux, house of de Corvus. We were raised to support an Empire, not take its reins. As a genta woman, even that much wasn’t expected of me. I was encouraged to cultivate skills of state, but outwardly pursue arts. I loved holo painting... I’d even risk the vanity of saying I was good at it. I assumed I would have time to enjoy it, between marrying well and claiming a consul position on the Emperor’s council. Same way Galen knew he’d be on
e of the Emperor’s generals. He wanted to build a family estate to the south. He loved to hunt.”
His smile in the Caeweld, thick forests, trees threading through the fog, a smile that broke as easy as sunshine. I know these lands, he’d promised her, and it’d felt so easy, so natural, it’d been her first step of trust. Olivia’s breath caught in her throat, but Sabine didn’t stop for questions.
“But then the great Emperor died when his shuttle crashed, his two young heirs with him. How sudden, how tragic.” Sabine’s lips thinned, voice tinny with pinched memories. “Perhaps they thought two unmoored country cousins would be easier to control. Mother had died a few years before. Our father was useless in his grief. Still is. You know what they called me at the funeral? The Powder Princess. Behind my back of course. I’m certain they planned to kill me off, too, place Galen on the throne.”
“That didn’t happen.”
“No.” Sabine’s lips twitched. She turned her head before Olivia could see what the expression became. “They never accounted for the childhood loyalty of a tavern owner’s daughter.”
Lyre. It sounded like a fairy tale. Olivia had the sense not to say it.
“My coronation was the first time I’d spent more than a fortnight in Chrysanthine. We’d visited the court frequently, but—” the cigarillo in Sabine’s hand wavered “—there was art everywhere, here. I barely notice it now, but then—even as the crown was going on my head, all I could think about was how much cursed work lingered unappreciated on the walls. I don’t get to paint now either. Too much work to do.” Sabine set her glass down with a harsh click. “The Powder Princess became the Spider Queen. We both gave up things, to become what we had to be. Now I paint with words. I wield a brush, and choose what an Empire sees.”
“And Galen?” Olivia asked the only question Sabine was leading her toward.
“He wields armies, and chooses what an Empire is.”
Olivia sighed. “The Red Wolf.”
“My shield. My brother. I need him.” She held up a hand, stopping an objection that Olivia didn’t have the courage to make. “I have no doubt that you two are...compatible. Whatever you went through in the Caeweld was enough to foster the beginnings of a strong affinity between the two of you. But a union between you two is not wise.”
“Because of who I am?” Olivia felt no bitterness in the words, just loss.
“Because of who my brother is.” Sabine looked sad. “He does nothing but with his whole heart. Forced to choose between his duties and his mate, he’d tear himself in two.”
Olivia went completely still. I’ll go with you, he’d said.
“Unless he already has.” Sabine read her face with an air of pity. “And you already knew all this. You want to protect him. That’s why you’re here.”
“I’m here to make a deal.” Olivia felt the wound deepen. Perhaps it was good she was too numb to feel it. It took the last of her strength to get the words out. “You want me to reject him.”
“Yes,” Sabine said.
It was bitter, the feeling that built in Olivia’s gut. More so because she didn’t find herself surprised. She’d wanted to hope enough to be surprised, but the world never was that kind. “What did Galen paint?”
“Pardon?”
“What did Galen paint? You said he hunted, but what’d he do, or love, before you made him into this?” Olivia didn’t know why it mattered but it did, right then. It did. “What did you make him give up?”
The question hit, and it was the closest to off-guard Sabine had been. Her eyes were somewhere else. She responded, almost too quiet to hear. “Paper birds. Little birds. The ancients had an art of folding. Such an obscure thing, nearly lost, but Galen...was endlessly fascinated as a teenager. Paper is hard to get, but he’d spend every bit of his allowance on the ridiculous stuff, folding hundreds of little bird-things. His room was covered in them. I don’t—” Sabine stopped, a tiny line forming in her brow. “I don’t even know if he kept any of them.”
Olivia thought of his quarters as she’d seen them, spare and empty. But then it was so easy to imagine it, delicate birds in Galen’s large, careful hands. Galen was the careful one. Galen was the one with romantic ideas about justice and fairness. She couldn’t take that from him. She knew nothing, not even justice, came free. She’d known that when she walked in here, really.
No one pays this cost but me. There was no use running from it.
“I understand,” she said, wishing she didn’t. “I’ll distance myself from Galen.”
“That’s...sensible. But...” Sabine pressed her lips together, as if uncertain herself if she should release her next words. “Considering the last time you left, he broke five treaties to find you, it may not be enough. I will get your Syndicate friends out of danger. You will reject Galen’s courtship, and you will publicly take a different mate.”
“No.” Olivia felt ill. The thought of...no. The idea of losing Galen was bad enough. If not Galen, then no one. It wasn’t even a decision. It was a revulsion. She stood, jostling her tea as she dropped it hard down on the table. “I didn’t even believe in this mate crap before I—” met Galen “—came here.”
“Then switching should be a simple enough ruse for you.”
Anger, hot and territorial, licked up from nowhere. Olivia’s lip curled and she half turned to the door. “What kind of fucking deal do you think we’re making?”
For the first time since Olivia had arrived, the empress moved. She jolted forward, hand snatching Olivia’s sleeve. Olivia stopped and stared. It was an erratic, jerky motion. Olivia had been certain Sabine didn’t have a setting other than stately elegance. “Such a monster I must look like to you. But if you’ll listen, I have a solution in mind that would not require you to...do...anything.”
That made no sense, especially not with Imperial ideas on mates. “What?”
“Highness,” CHARIS interrupted. “Your guest has arrived.”
Sabine sagged, not quite letting go of Olivia. “Such timing as always,” she muttered, then, “Send them in.” Olivia yanked her hand free. Sabine leaned back, recompiling a sad kind of composure. “Just wait.”
“It’s late, majesty, you wished to see me?” The voice was carefully polite, which is why Olivia didn’t recognize it as she turned.
Alais wore a simple—by Imperial standards—suit with a navy half cloak, which drew attention to the wariness that chased across her blue eyes. She straightened and gave Olivia a perfunctory bow. They both turned toward Sabine, the clear threat in the room.
Sabine said, “Good of you to come, Lady Alais. I have found a solution to your little inheritance problem.”
“Really now? I would be interested to hear...” Alais trailed off as her eyes flicked back to Olivia and took in the tension. Olivia’s nails bit into her fist. An alarmed understanding broke across Alais’s face. “Oh.”
“I’ve had CHARIS begin drawing up the relevant documents.”
“No,” Olivia said.
“Your majesty is clever.” Alais took a careful, proper step away from Olivia. “But I don’t believe I’m to Ms. Shaw’s liking—”
“You can go to hell,” Olivia interrupted as her last nerve went raw. She wasn’t sure who she was cursing: Sabine, Alais, or the whole bloody world. Perhaps all three. She spun for the door.
“The young lady needs time to consider. She’ll come around,” she heard Sabine murmur as the door closed. “It’s for the best.”
* * *
The air was too calm for the night it inhabited. The scout training ground let out the occasional squeak of old metal, a counter note to the froth of wind through leaves in the trees surrounding the courtyard. Olivia had ghosted through the staff corridors on autopilot. At some point her hand had snagged a bottle of spesic from an unattended cart.
Drinking it did nothing to warm her. She traced the stru
ts above her with sightless eyes. She was half aware of the murmur of the estate behind her, the sound of a royal household at work even as most of the Empire slept. She was half aware that she should have brought a jacket, the air having turned chill on her flushed skin. Should wash her face before some noble took note of puffy, bloodshot eyes and chose to make a story of it. She was half aware of a dozen little details, each one methodically picked up, noted, and discarded.
She was painfully aware of the choices she was making. She’d kissed Galen, hungry and grasping. Her selfishness scared her, because she knew the moment she’d considered it. She could be patient, be safe. Or she could be greedy and selfish. If she asked, he would go with her. He had told her once, in one of his moods where impossible things fell from his lips like gifts. I’d bring down the Syn itself if you asked me. He would do it, she knew that now. Galen would betray his own ideals and remake himself into a different creature. He’d done it for his sister. He’d do it for her.
He would do it. And it would destroy him. The very same way staying and allowing herself to be shielded by the slow gears of politics would destroy her.
And the sharp edge, the truth that left her heart bloody, was he’d made her this way. There was a time when she wanted nothing more than obscurity and safety. Ambition and change was a delusion of the strong and the foolish. There was a time when Olivia would have capitulated, let others take the risks because she could afford none. Simply protected herself. Because what the hell could one person do?
And then she’d met Galen. And more than that. She’d met Lyre and other people who seemed to accomplish the impossible. And then she’d met Maris and Kieran and begun to understand the why. She’d begun to feel responsible for what she did or didn’t do, which was an altogether new and uncomfortable feeling.
Don’t disappear on me, Galen had said. So she would stay, more visible than safe. She would take responsibility for her long complacence. She’d protect Yoshi. She’d protect Galen. And the only one to pay the price would be her.