“You’re right,” Mom says, “but no one could break the stone, not by any method they tried.”
“Then how?” I look at the ring.
Mom whispers, “I’m not sure whether I believe it, but those were different times then. Amazing times, if the records can be believed. Mahalesh prayed and asked God to break the stone, to help her end the fighting among her daughters. She asked for peace among them before she died.”
“And God did it?” I ask.
“We assume so,” Mom says. “It doesn’t say. But in the next entry it speaks of how the stone was split among the daughters. Mahalesh gave the pieces out in order, with the largest piece to her youngest and wisest daughter, Alamecha. Thus your great, great, great grandmother became the Empress of the First Family.”
“Do you think God broke the stone?”
Mom shrugs. “I don’t know. Our family received Mahalesh’s actual journals, and I’ve read her first-hand account. The heads of the other four families have copies that were made at that time, and Shenoah’s line has her records.”
“Do you believe we’re God’s chosen?” I ask.
Mom shakes her head. “I wish I knew. I believe we’re God’s creation, and I believe God struck that stone. Even if He’s not very involved in our world now, He was then, and He may be again. Especially if what I believe is true. If you’re her.”
“You think I can reunite all six stones?” I ask.
Mom closes her eyes. “Mahalesh asked God to split the stone into five pieces, one for each of her daughters. God split it as she asked, but not into five pieces.”
“I know, he split it into six.”
“No.” Mom shakes her head. “The records report seven stones.”
“Wait, what?” There are six families. One for each of the five daughters, and one to Shenoah the Peacemaker. My heart rate picks up.
There’s another stone somewhere? Why? And where exactly?
“We have the biggest stone, and we rule North America, the United Kingdom, Cuba, and Puerto Rico. The second, third, fourth, and fifth families are descended from Mahalesh’s older daughters in order: Malessa rules most of Europe, Lenora rules South America and Greenland, Adora controls most of the Soviet Bloc countries, Mongolia, Thailand, and Indonesia, and Shamecha rules the Middle East and India. Mahalesh gave each daughter a ring and a territory to rule. She gave the smallest stone to her sister, Shenoah, as well as the entire continent of Africa to rule. The Shenoah family, through Adika, still rules most of Africa today.”
Mom’s stalling. I learned exactly what each family ruled and how they held each of their nations while I was still drinking from a bottle.
“And the seventh?”
“No one knows. My mother believed God kept it for Himself, to give to a worthy queen at the appointed time. My grandmother believed it never existed to begin with, that there was some kind of transcription error.”
“What appointed time?” I ask. “When did your mom think God would award this extra credit stone?”
“According to Mahalesh’s journal, God told Eve that the stones would one day be shattered. He told her that one of her descendants would be able to regain admittance into the Garden by uniting the families and their stones. Only this Empress could gain admittance.”
“Can I see the actual prophecy?” I ask. “Or is that not allowed?”
“Only I can enter the archive, but I’ll quote it for you.” She closes her eyes as if seeing the parchment in her mind’s eye. “‘In time of great peril, when the lives of women and men shall fail, the Eldest shall survive certain death to unite the families. She comes in a time of blood and horror, in a world overrun with plague and warfare. She shall command the stone of the mountain, be it small or large. Its power shall destroy the vast hosts arrayed against it. With the might and power of God, the Eldest shall destroy all in her path, and unite my children as one. Only through her blood can the stone be restored to the mountain. Together, with the strength of her strongest supporter, she shall open the Garden of Eden, that the miracle of God shall go unto all the Earth to save my children from utter destruction.’”
The Eldest?
“I always assumed the ‘Eldest’ referred to the empress who lived the longest. So far, that’s Eve, at nine-hundred and seventy-one years.”
“Which means, you hoped it might be you.”
Mom shrugs. “We’ve all hoped. Everyone wants to be special.”
Not me.
“But what if it doesn’t mean the eldest empress to live? What if it’s referring to something else? What if God knew we would start killing the older twin, and no “eldest” sister eligible to rule would exist? Until you.”
“That’s a stretch,” I say.
“Is it?” Mom throws her hands up. “It makes more sense than the eldest empress. And look at the other evidence. You commanded the stone today, and it destroyed the light. It’s talking about you, Chancery. Our people, and perhaps the whole world, will need you, and I don’t intend to fail them.”
“The world isn’t overrun by blood, plague, or warfare,” I protest. “There’s no eminent destruction.”
“Not yet,” Mom says, “but I very much fear it’s coming.”
“What about all the destruction you and your rivals have caused over the years? Where was the salvation of the earth then?”
“War, famine, plague. Those are commonplace. An apocalyptic event, something that could wipe out the evian race, that’s the real threat. Judica has been awful to you, but now I’m beginning to believe things happened as they did for a reason. You survived certain death to be here, spared by the most merciless of rulers. I deserved my reputation. I meant to kill you, you know, but I couldn’t. Something stopped me and I spared you, the eldest twin. And then you survived again, by sheer luck. Or possibly providence.”
She’s referring to my ninth birthday.
“Although I become more certain the prophecy refers to you with every breath, I think Judica serves a purpose too. I think she could become your strongest supporter. You may need her skillset to save everyone. I think, like Mahalesh’s daughters, my precious daughters need to make peace before they can unite the other families.”
“That’s a nice hope,” I say. “But I’m afraid the only way Judica’s ever going to help me is into an early grave.”
8
“We may have to force Judica’s hand,” Mom says. “The more time you spend together, the sooner she’ll see what I’ve known for ages. Your many amazing qualities more than compensate for your weaknesses.”
“Wait,” I say. “What does that mean?” I know I’m not strong, but it still stings to hear my mom throw out the words “deficiencies” and “weaknesses” like everyone knows just what they are.
Mom sighs. “Right now we have guests arriving. We need to distract them long enough for their rooms to be prepared.”
I follow Mom into her throne room, but I stop ten feet from where Lyssa fell this morning, cut down by my own mother. The white marble floor is pristine, not a single speck of red, or even a hint of orange. It could’ve happened last month, or last year. Except it didn’t. It happened today.
And my best friend Lark is still locked away in a cell.
“Chancery, come and greet our guests.” Mom’s command cuts through the fog in my brain.
“Right.” Because none of them can know what evian life is really like. They’re merely the humans who serve us. The best, the brightest, and the only ones who even know we rule the world.
I make small talk with the current US President, the Prime Minister of England, and a handful of powerful senators and justices, barely stumbling over my own words at all. But when Larena, Mom’s Chamberlain, pokes her head inside the throne room to let Mom know the guest rooms are ready, I breathe a heavy sigh of relief.
“Can we free Lark now?” I whisper.
Mom shakes her head slightly. “We have more pressing business, but I haven’t forgotten. I told Frederick to put thi
ngs in motion.”
I frown. “Put things in motion? How long will it take? Won’t people become suspicious?”
“Timing matters, Chancery. And right now, we must begin other things. Something we’ll work on daily.”
Mom drags me down to the family bunker where I practice setting off EMPs with her cursed ring. I guess a lead lined bunker encased in tons and tons of rock is the only place to limit the damage from my reaction to the dumb thing. It’s not exactly how I’d like to spend an afternoon, but it could be worse. I could be stuck hearing more petitions with Judica. I’m not very successful, only setting off three more over the course of more than an hour, but I do set the wall on fire. Twice.
“As your great grandmother Corlamecha always used to say,” Mom says.
I grumble. “Yeah, yeah, Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
I guess she’d know.
I reach the top of the ladder and climb out of the bunker and onto the ground. The giant banyan tree keeps the entire courtyard in front of Mom’s bedroom in the shade. I inhale deeply of the ocean breeze that whips across every inch of the small island of Ni’ihau. Being stuck hundreds of feet underground gives me new perspective on the value of fresh air. My mom presses a few buttons in a hidden keypad under a rock, and an enormous boulder rolls back into place without so much as a whir. I guess that means the iron in the walls of the bunker kept the newly-repaired electronics out here safe. Cookie and Duchess cavort around our feet, glad to see us again. Dogs aren’t allowed in the bunker.
“Time for your training as Heir to start, little dove,” my mom says.
I suppress a groan. “You haven’t thought this through, clearly. And do we need to start today, with all the repairs and leftover petitions and whatnot?” And Lyssa’s death, and my friend’s spirits sinking lower and lower in her cell?
“Melodics was fine when you had nothing but time, but sladius is much more effective for making quick progress, and we need immediate progress. I’ll be making the announcement soon, which means it’s necessary to expand your instructor pool, yes.”
“Wait,” I say, “you’re not training me anymore?”
“Actually, I’m required at a meeting with Inara and Larena right now, so for today you’ll be training with an expert in sladius.”
“Balthasar?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “He will be there, but he wants to see you in action before he begins training you himself.”
“Then who?” I ask.
“Judica.”
My jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. You two are going to have to learn to work together, and there’s no point in delaying it. I already told Balthasar you’d be by around three o’clock. Change quickly.”
I haven’t trained with Judica in almost eight years. Not since before our ninth birthday.
“Sounds like a great plan. The only way this could be worse is if you told Judica you’re making me the new Heir.” Oh crap. “Which you will have to tell her at some point.”
Mom nods. “But not today. We’ll tell her together, after my birthday.”
“Phew. Because I’d rather she not know the first time you send me into a ring with her and tell her to whack at me with a sword.”
“You’ll be fine,” Mom says.
Easy for her to say. She’s not the clownfish being dropped in a tank with the biggest shark in Ni’ihau.
“Your face has gone completely white. Don’t worry. You heal fast.” Mom’s smile is mischievous. “Accept the world as it is…”
I grumble. “Or do something to change it. I know, I know. But do I really have to change it? I was fine with things before today. We need a new family motto. How about ‘be true to yourself.’ That sounds like a good one, probably because it’s so vague that no one understands what it means.”
Mom laughs. “Go.”
I wait for a moment to see whether she’ll change her mind, but when she glances my way, one eyebrow arched, I know she’s annoyed. I head to my room to change clothes and have to immediately throw open all the blinds. Repair crews clearly prioritized the guest rooms and haven’t reached mine yet.
Cookie’s lapping at her water bowl and I’m lacing up my Merrells when there’s a knock on my door. I tie the bow on my second sneaker and walk over to answer. My heart’s working fine until I open the door. Then it flutters in spite of my Herculean efforts to keep it steady.
It’s Edam, and for once, he’s alone.
I usually have to avert my eyes so he won’t notice me studying his face. Or worse, so Judica won’t notice. I live among the direct lineal descendants of Adam and Eve. All of us have nearly flawless DNA. We’re the most perfect people on Earth, and every single one of us has unblemished features, clear skin, bright eyes, shiny, curly hair, symmetrical and well-proportioned bodies. Even surrounded by sparkling gems, Edam stands out. Strong, square jaw. White blond hair that practically shines. Deep, sapphire eyes over high, prominent cheekbones and rich, dark golden skin that glows. And when he’s standing this close to me, I have to crane my neck to see his face at all. Not that staring at his perfectly sculpted chest is bad.
“Your Highness.” His intense eyes are trained on the ground.
“We’ve been over this. Please call me Chancery.” My voice emerges high and squeaky, so I clear my throat. “You spent enough years on routine guard duty, taking your turn watching me scamper all over the island. I think the ‘your highnesses’ are unnecessary.”
“Things were different then,” he says.
It’s been seven years since he was assigned to watch me, but the only real change I’ve noticed, other than his rapid rise in rank, is his dating status.
“You know what? Call me whatever you want. I’d hate to cause a fight between you and your sweetheart.” I slide past him into the hall, Cookie on my heels, and slam the door shut.
“Balthasar sent me to bring you to the arena.” He pauses. “Chancery.”
His eyes meet mine, and my hands shake. “I know where the arena is. I don’t need a babysitter.”
He bows stiffly, a quick bob of his golden head. “He wasn’t sure whether you were coming.” Edam glances at his watch pointedly. “It’s already three-eleven.”
“Mom and I were caught up—” I gulp. “Well, I’m running a little late. I’m sorry.”
I’m not sure how Cookie will react if I’m injured during training today, which I assume is a given, so I open my door again and signal Cookie to stay in my room. She whimpers, but she listens. I wonder as my rubber soled shoes squeak their way across the marble tiles of the hallway, how Annihilator, Lyssa’s wolfhound, is doing. Not that I can do much about it.
Is Gray down with Lark? Or did they stuff her greyhound and Lyssa’s wolfhound in the same kennel?
I barely notice when Edam falls in beside me. He doesn’t speak, and I have no idea what to say to him, so I don’t breathe a word either.
We zig and zag around work crews replacing lights and circuits in the massive lobby. The entire palace has only one floor, but with twenty-foot ceilings, it looks two stories high from the exterior. It sprawls over most of the center of the plateau on the island, which gives us visibility on all sides if any aircraft, boats, or even submarines approach. With today’s technological advances, we could probably move somewhere with less visibility, but after today’s EMP, Mom will probably be less inclined to rely on tech than ever. She knows the five rival families will never stop vying for control, and Alamecha is at the top, which makes it everyone else’s number one target.
Edam and I don’t have to walk in awkward silence for long, because the training arena is right around the corner from my room. One wall of the arena is composed almost entirely of glass so we should have enough light to train, even if the circuitry replacements haven’t reached this area. Judging by the lack of overhead lighting, they haven’t. I brace myself as Edam pushes the solid wooden double doors open and we walk through into the cavernous room. It’s a good
thing I do, because I immediately see what the door was blocking, the only thing worse than Judica.
Judica brandishing a broad sword.
“Sister.” She glares at me from the center of one of the training rings.
“Well met.” It’s a traditional evian response, but I don’t even try to sound like I mean it.
Balthasar tosses something at me and I catch it by reflex, then stagger back almost into the doorframe from the unexpected heft. I’m lucky he tossed the sword hilt down or I’d have sliced my hand in the process. “I don’t really fight with a sword,” I say. “The challenge today was my first time to use one, actually. I prefer to work on target practice with a handgun, a bow, or a slingshot—”
“We’ve used swords for six thousand years,” Balthasar says. “Are you saying you don’t value tradition?”
“Of course I do, but I’m suggesting that training should be tailored to a person’s strengths.”
He scowls. “And after your pathetic display earlier, no one would ever mistake swordplay as one of yours.”
My face heats. “I never claimed it was.” I lift my arm and groan from the effort. “And even if I had, this thing weighs a ton. I’d choose a lighter weapon.”
“It is massive.” Balthasar selects another sword from one of the racks that line the back wall, an even heavier one, and holds it aloft. “Do you know why these swords all weigh a ton?”
I shrug. “Because they’re made of metal?”
He snorts. “Indeed, but the weight helps us. With our perfect muscles, if we exercise them properly, the weight isn’t burdensome for long and it increases our momentum. You may be good with a handgun, but do you have any idea how many bullets I can take without slowing down?”
I shake my head. “Five? Ten?”
“I’ve taken more than twelve without noticeably changing my speed. You want to stop a member of one of the pure evian bloodlines? You better have a sword. Chop off their head, sever their spine, or remove a limb, or they’ll keep hacking at you.” He slams the sword, point down, into the black mat that covers the arena floor. “Let’s not waste any more time. Your mother told me you’re competent with basic forms, but you haven’t spent much time integrating weapons into combat. Is that true?” Balthasar’s hair is streaked liberally with white, but his face is still unlined and the muscles in his arms ripple with strength as he crosses them.
Displaced (The Birthright Series Book 1) Page 9