Judica and I move toward her, everything happening in slow motion. We stand in a loose semicircle around Inara as she opens the box.
She pulls a stack of yellowed papers from it. The Alamecha Charter.
“How’s this going to help us?” I whisper.
“It’s not the Charter Judica needs,” Inara says. “It’s the Declaration of Heirship.”
“Right,” Judica says. “It sits just below the Charter.”
Larena clucks. We all lean over the box and look down to the space below. A sheaf of thick white paper lies in the bottom of the box. Larena lifts it up and reads aloud. “Before us this day, the representative heads of the Council of Alamecha attest that one Enora Isadora Alamecha has declared her intention to name an heir. Having given birth to two daughters on the same day, she desires to eliminate all confusion that may result from the event of her death. Enora Isadora Alamecha names her daughter, Chancery Divinity Alamecha to rule the First Family of Eve, as Empress and Queen of all the lands and properties hereby appurtenant. Lest any should contest this statement, the below listed members of her Council set their hand to testify to the truth and veracity of this declaration.”
Judica states the obvious. “It’s not signed.”
“Not by the Council,” Inara agrees, “but Mom signed it.”
When would she have had time? She must have known something was wrong and rushed to get it done this morning. It must have been where she went after breakfast. But it’s not enough.
“Between the destruction of the prior documents, this partially executed one, and the statement to Job in front of witnesses,” Inara says, “I imagine the rest of the Council will agree with me. Chancery is the Heir.”
Can Judica actually be tried for what she did?
“Mother was sick and lost her mind.” The words emerge as the barest of whispers. Judica closes her eyes and for the first time ever, she looks wounded, pained even. When she speaks again, it’s even softer. “Oh Mother, why?”
I’m torn in two. I want nothing to do with ruling Alamecha. Judica can choke on it for all I care, but the only way to make Judica pay for killing Mom is to become Empress and convene a court. If I abdicate, then Judica becomes Empress and that possibility evaporates. We’ll never really know whether she killed our mom, or even if we do find out, we won’t be able to do anything about it.
The only way to make Judica pay is to become Empress myself.
As if she can read my mind, Judica says, “I did not kill her.” She grits her teeth. “But I almost don’t regret her death. She was obviously making bad decisions. She lacked the capacity to make such an Heirship change.” She picks up the new document and looks it over with disgust.
“Curious.” Adika Shenoah, the current Empress of the Sixth family has slunk so close that her heart pounds steadily right next to me. “One twin challenges the paperwork executed by her own mother this morning, and the other accuses the displaced heir of murder. I’m delighted I didn’t send Vela in my place. I’d have missed all this fun.” Adika’s teeth gleam brightly against her deep brown skin, and a chill slides down my spine. The predators sense our weakness and are circling. The worst part is that we invited them into our home to witness this devastation.
“This Declaration is trash.” Judica throws it into the box and glares at me. “I’ll fight it to the end.”
“What about Mom’s birthday promise?” I ask. “Mom would never have wanted—”
“Then she shouldn’t have replaced the Heirship documents,” Judica says. “This is on her head.”
“It’s on her head?” I ask, practically spitting. “It’s her fault that she happened to get the documents drawn up, but not fully executed before you murdered her?” I choke up, torn between horror, despair, and a murderous rage.
“She lied to us both,” Judica says. “She named me Heir. She trained me, she promised me I would rule after her, and now that she’s gone, she’s left me with nothing.”
My laugh sounds a little crazy, even to me. “You kill Mom as some kind of a power play, and you’re upset she broke her promise to you from almost nine years ago?”
Judica lunges for me and her hands wrap around my throat. I’m so surprised that I put up no opposition and she knocks me back and pins me against the heavy wooden box with her body. Her hands squeeze my esophagus, cutting off my air.
“I won’t say it again,” she snarls in my face. “I didn’t kill her. I loved her.”
Edam pulls Judica off me and twists her arms behind her back. “Do not attack the Empress, Judica. It’s not befitting of the Heir.”
I rub my neck and speed the healing from where her hands nearly choked me to death. “Thank you, Edam.” I stand up and watch Judica struggle against him. He won’t release her hands because he knows she’ll pull a dagger and stab him.
A single tear rolls down Judica’s cheek, as surprising as water springing from a stone. “Just because you screamed and sobbed, that doesn’t mean you love her more. It means you didn’t learn a thing from her example while she was alive.”
“Wrong again,” I say. “Killing her proves you didn’t love her, and no amount of decorum, or savagery, or statesmanship will ever erase that sin.”
Edam lets Judica go and pulls the two of us close. He has one hand on my wrist and one on Judica’s. He whispers so softly that I can barely make out his words. “This is not the time or the place. You two need to talk about this, but not here, not in front of everyone. It’s past enough.”
Judica shakes his hand off of her wrist, but she whispers softly, too. “Get your hands off me, you lying—”
Edam frowns. “I never lied to you, not once.”
“It’s not that simple,” she says, choking up. I don’t know why it surprises me, but she seems more upset about Edam dumping her than she does about our mother’s death.
“Oh, boohoo for you and your little romance gone awry. Our mom’s lying right there.” My broken pieces shake at the thought, and I suck in a big breath. “Is this really the right time to play the sulky girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Edam says.
“No, I’m not,” Judica spits. “No Consort of mine would ever take her side against me.”
“Oh, please. You never gave me a choice in any of it.” His words have the ring of an old frustration.
“You didn’t have a choice?” Judica tries to whisper, but shrill sounds carry.
“No one can refuse the Heir.”
Judica’s eyelids flutter rapidly and her breath comes in shallow, rapid pulls. I almost feel sorry for her, before I remember she’s pure evil.
She raises her voice. “For crimes against the Heir, I order Edam ne’Senah ex’Alamecha’s death. The sentence will be carried out as soon as I’ve... as soon as all this,” she gestures toward me and the Charter, “is worked out.”
The guards seize Edam and he doesn’t resist, but his eyes are wounded.
“This is beyond absurd,” I say. “Your boyfriend dumps you, so you order him to be executed? Even for you, that’s a new low. And unfortunately for you, I’m Empress, not you.” I cross my arms. “I countermand your order.”
Judica addresses the guards with a voice that brooks no refusal. “Take him to the holding cells pending resolution of the line of succession. Whether I’m Heir or Empress, I certainly have the right to order a trial of someone whom I accuse.” She spins around to take in the whole room, daring them to challenge her.
The guards don’t know what to do, so they keep him restrained, but don’t take him anywhere. They glance at Balthasar, who grunts and looks from me to Judica and back. “Take him down. We can deal with it later.”
“No,” I say. “You all heard Larena. I’m the new Empress, and all Edam did was take steps to ensure my safety. He will not be punished for those actions.”
Before anyone else can speak, Melisania Lenora, Empress of the Third Family steps forward, a sparkling crown atop her curly mass of hair. “Things are o
bviously a little confusing right now. You’re lucky we’re all here to help. You two are grief stricken. We’ll convene a court of the Five, evaluate the evidence available on the circumstances surrounding your mother’s death, and vote on which of you will ascend the throne.” Melisania turns to Adika and begins issuing more orders.
“Wouldn’t you love that?” Judica barks. “To see the First Family thrown into turmoil and choose which of us rises?”
She’s right. Five sets of eyes bore into me when I glance around the room, none of them friendly. Every other family sees this situation as an opportunity, and they’ve wanted nothing more than to tear us apart and gobble up the pieces for thousands of years. If we allow it, they’ll be dividing our lands among themselves like a brokered deal in a game of Risk by the end of the day.
Judica wrenches the ring from her hand and holds it out to me. I don’t reach for it, much less grab it.
“Take it.”
“I don’t even want it.” But my sister needs to pay, so I snatch it from her hand.
I’m shocked Judica’s willing to hand the throne over to protect it. I didn’t expect that kind of selflessness. I wait for the trick, the double cross, the sting in the tail.
She raises her voice and spreads her hands in front of her so everyone will hear. “While we appreciate the kind and considerate concern of the Five Families in this time of deepest grief for Alamecha, we respectfully decline your invitation to convene a court on our behalf. The First Family will handle this on its own. Chancery Divinity Alamecha is our new Empress, named by our mother in the seconds before she died, and attested to by several others. I will voluntarily rescind any claim I had to the throne.”
“Now do your part to show them we can work this out,” Judica mutters. “Tell them to take Edam below.”
If Judica can accept me as Empress peacefully, Edam can spend a night in a cell.
“Take Edam below,” I say. I can always free him after everyone leaves tomorrow.
Judica smiles. “Please respect our grief and return to your rooms.”
The guests slowly filter out, hesitant to leave in the middle of the show. Eventually only our guards, Job, Balthasar, Inara, Larena, and a few other Alamecha people are left.
Judica turns to me with the smile that portends the reveal of her plan.
“But of course, if I deem you unfit to rule. . .”
I finally understand.
She’s okay with me being Empress, since that leaves her as my Heir, one of the two categories of people who can challenge an empress at any time. Oh Mom, what were you thinking?
Judica says, “Mother may have temporarily lost her mind, but it’s reparable.” She meets my eye, searching for something in my face.
I wish I knew for sure whether she killed Mom.
Judica’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Chancery Divinity Alamecha, I formally challenge you to a Duel of Ascendance to determine who rules family Alamecha.”
How did I not see that knife coming?
“I’ll allow us both the night to recover and to honor Mother’s wish, but in the morning, we settle this.” Judica glances one last time at Mom’s body and strides out of the massive doors.
I glance around the room at the faces of the people I’ve known my entire life. None of them will meet my eye, which means they expected this. I really am a bumbler, too weak and too stupid to rule. If I can’t even predict the actions of my twin sister, the most predictable person in my life, how can I possibly lead our entire family?
I doubt I could have screwed this up any worse if I’d tried. Edam’s imprisoned for sparing me, the Five will be plotting their attack on our family on their flights home, Lark’s hiding in New York without a mother, and Cookie and Mom are both dead.
And my options tomorrow morning are to murder my sister or die by her hand.
I cross the room and kneel in front of Mom’s body. I lean toward her and whisper into her hair, “I tried Mom, I really did. I’m so sorry I let you down, but that stupid staridium obviously chose wrong.”
15
I’m not sure how long I lay with my head on Mom’s body before the housekeeping staff shows up to retrieve her. When I glance around, everyone has left except Inara, Job, and Frederick.
“What can we do?” Inara asks.
I sit up, startled by her expectation that I’ll simply head for my room to prepare for tomorrow’s challenge, abandoning my mother’s body to be prepared for burial. When I do stand up, I long for Mom’s room, and her smell, and her things. I want to be around something that reminds me of her. Duchess snuggles against Mom, taking the spot I vacated, and my heart contracts again.
I lean over and ruffle the fur on Duchess’s head, and then I force myself to square my shoulders. Each step toward the door feels like a betrayal, like I’ve given up on her, like I’m walking away from her and not the other way around.
Even though I know she’s already gone, it destroys me to let her go.
By the time I reach the door, I recognize what else feels off. I miss the clicking sounds of Cookie’s claws following me. I miss the soothing and commanding presence of my mom, and no matter where I go, I’ll never feel either one again.
When I reach the door to her room, I pull up short. I can’t go inside. I can’t. I spin around and nearly run into Inara, Frederick and Job only a pace behind her.
“I want to be alone right now.” The words emerge as a croak.
“You’re the Empress now,” Frederick says. “Your mother would want me here. You need protection.”
“You sure kept her safe, didn’t you?” I snap.
Frederick stumbles back like I slapped him. Mother’s most trusted guard. He only left her door to sleep.
“I’m sorry, Freddy, I know it’s not your fault.” Tears threaten to fall again. “I’m really sorry. You can wait outside.”
I shove past him and take the dozen steps to my own door, Inara and Job on my heels. I stop on the threshold and rest my forehead on the solid wood of my door. “Why are you both following me?”
“I need a private word,” Job whispers, and glances sideways at Inara.
Frederick takes up his position next to my door, and I meet his eyes. I’m curious what he thinks about Job’s request.
He shrugs infinitesimally, which means he doesn’t consider Job much of a threat. If I had listened to Job earlier when I was still drowning in grief, I wouldn’t have been blindsided about Mom changing the documents. I motion for him to enter my room. “Do you need something too, Inara?”
Her eyes cloud. “I’m here to help you with anything I can. And I thought you might need this.” She leans toward me, her arms wrapping around my waist. I collapse against her. I forgot, in my utter desolation, that Inara is basically a carbon copy of our mother. Strong, kind, intelligent, caring, ferocious, and brilliant. And she didn’t follow Judica out. She stayed with me. Which means when Judica kills me tomorrow, she’ll likely execute Inara, too. I shudder and pull back.
“Give me just a moment with Job, and then we can talk.”
Inara’s lips tighten into a thin line, but she doesn’t argue. She takes up a position near the doorway, on the opposite side from Frederick.
I walk into my room, marveling how different the room looks from the last time I entered, when Mom had just told me to put on a dress to match her.
The whole world looks different now that she’s gone. Drenched in darkness, covered in cobwebs, and dipped in desperation.
Even after the door closes, Job doesn’t speak. He looks down at his feet and shuffles them a bit. He’s been my mom’s physician for centuries. Losing her was hard for him too, and he probably feels to blame. I sympathize, but I’m exhausted and stressed and not up to the job of consoling anyone else right now. “What is it, Job?”
He meets my eyes. “Your mother told me repeatedly that you were her new Heir. But that’s not all she said. Right before her heart stopped, she told me ‘Tell Chancy I sent... something... t
o Alora.’ I asked her to repeat what she said. I couldn’t understand the word. She could barely talk. But she didn’t hear my question. She was gone, Chancy. I’m sorry to be delivering an incomplete message. But in case it’s important, I wanted to tell you everything I know.”
She sent what to Alora? Alora’s coming here any day. She couldn’t have meant the declaration, since it was here, partially executed. What else could she have sent to New York and why? It makes no sense.
Job’s heart rate is elevated and he looks pale.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He nods. “I am sorry, so sorry to have failed you. I should have done more when I noticed how tired she looked, I should have—”
“I tried to talk to her about it too, Job. It’s not your fault. Mom thought she was bulletproof and obviously she wasn’t.”
He reaches toward me and then pulls back, clearly unsure how he might offer comfort. Finally he shoves his hands in his pockets and heads for the door. He’s gone in a blink.
I wish I could escape the mess of my life so easily. Inara slips through the doorway as he leaves. She looks at me like I looked at Lark earlier. Pity. Empathy. Sorrow. Gratitude floods my body at the knowledge that my amazing, strong, brilliant big sister followed me instead of Judica. I have no idea why Inara’s on my side, but, inexplicably, she is.
“I feel as flayed as you look,” Inara says, “but we need to be triaging right now.”
“What’s the point?” I ask. “There’s nothing I can do to prepare for tomorrow. I’m either going to beat her or die trying, and we all know which is most likely. In fact, while I love you for it, it was monumentally stupid for you to follow me in here.”
Displaced (The Birthright Series Book 1) Page 15