“I’ll see what I can do. Let me think about the Edam thing.” I hear rustling in the background and then Inara says, “I’ve got to go, but before I do, tell me this. Do you like him? Would you want to spend a thousand years with him by your side?”
“Yes,” I say. “I do like him.”
“Well, I guess that’s better than the alternative. Accept the world as it is,” she whispers.
“Or do something to change it,” I say, but she’s already hung up. I worry about her, hopping off the phone, whispering, unsure what she can do for me. I hope she’s safe there.
She can’t be in too much danger, since she sends me a batch of videos while I’m in the shower. I hunt down Alora before I dive into watching them. I find her in the library. “Sorry we made such a mess in the ballroom.”
“How did the training go?” she asks.
I shrug. I ought to tell her about Edam’s offer too, but I’m pretty sure she’ll freak out and tell me it’s a huge mistake, so I don’t bother. “It could have gone better, but it’s early days.”
She bobs her head. “It is early.”
“I need to talk to you.”
Frederick catches my eye and glances at Arlington, whose chocolate brown eyes are downcast. I’m not buying it. He’s listening to every word.
“Freddy, can you secure and close the door?”
He bows and does it, a half smile on his face. I’m learning, even if I’m slow. Freddy may trust his people, but there’s no reason they need to hear everything I discuss.
“What’s wrong?” Alora asks.
“It’s not that something is wrong per se. Or at least, nothing more than you already know. It’s that Job gave me a message. Mom told him she sent something to you. Something I will need, something important.”
“You’re hoping it’s the ring.”
I nod.
“Why would she do that?”
“No idea, but I can’t think what else she might have sent. Can you?”
Alora’s brow furrows. “No. I’ll conduct a thorough search, and I’ll alert my people to be on the lookout for anything that might turn up. If it’s here or on its way to us, I’ll get it to you.”
A tiny weight lifts from my shoulders. I believe she will. “Thank you.”
“Hungry?” she asks.
“Starving, and I need to replenish some volume too, but can you have food sent to my room? I’ve got some research I need to do on Judica. Inara sent me some files of her fighting.”
Alora smiles. “Wise, very wise.”
“It was Edam’s suggestion,” I say. “Wish I could take credit.”
“You’re too honest to play those kinds of games. That might be more impressive than having the inspiration in the first place.” Alora smiles at me and I duck out.
Her staff is efficient, too. I’ve barely reached my room when a short girl with dark curly hair arrives with an entire platter of sandwiches and two pitchers of lemonade. Frederick and Arlington follow her into the room. She curtsies, and her heart races. She’s human. My eyes widen. “Thanks.”
I take the tray from her and set it on the table. She scurries out so quickly I don’t even have time to ask her name. Maybe next time. I reach for a sandwich, but Freddy clears his throat.
“What?” I ask.
“Your dog is—ahem. You need a taster.”
Cookie’s gone. No more hand licks or fur balls curled up at my feet. But also, I need someone to ensure I’m not poisoned.
“I can call the maid back,” he says.
I shake my head. “Not her. She’s human.”
“Weaker is better,” Arlington says, “because they react faster if there’s a problem.”
“Yes, thank you, I know that.” I think about that poor girl, writhing on the floor, or dead with her mouth foaming. I can’t handle that.
“I’ll do it,” Arlington says. “Frederick’s too important, and no one else is near.”
Before I can stop him, he snatches an egg salad sandwich, the most likely candidate for poison with the saucy filling, and stuffs half of it into his mouth. He swallows and smiles at me. “Tastes good.”
I turn up my lip at the egg salad. I move my turkey sandwich toward my mouth, but Frederick clears his throat again.
“What now?” I ask.
“He only tried one of the sandwich types. And you need to wait at least several minutes,” he says. “To make sure Arlington’s not negatively impacted.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake.” I huff, but I wait and watch while Arlington eats part of each sandwich.
And while I wait, I think about school tomorrow. Lark’s going to enroll too, which means the security staff will see her. And Edam will too. Will she be safe? Will my secret make its way back to Judica and the rest of Alamecha? Should I send her away?
The thought slices through my wounded heart, but that’s not a good reason to risk her life or my tentative control over my family. If I even have tentative control.
“Frederick?” I ask.
“Your Majesty.” He lifts his eyebrows.
“You said you chose guards who were utterly loyal to me.”
He nods.
“How did you ascertain their loyalty?”
Arlington clears his throat.
“Yes, Arlington. Would you like to weigh in?”
“You spared my sister, Your Majesty.”
I frown. He has eleven sisters, by my count. I think about them each in turn. “Fontaine?”
“When Judica advocated for execution, you pushed for exile.”
I close my eyes. My mercy, always my mercy. “And Frederick knew you would appreciate that decision?”
Arlington shrugs. “I love Fontaine, and she’d have died if you hadn’t stood up to Judica. I believe in black and white, Your Majesty, but sometimes the two mix. Your sister doesn’t see gray anywhere. In my experience, if you make no room for gray, the world swims in red.”
I think about the other guards. Bellatrius requested approval to marry into the Shenoah family while we were at war with them, and I supported her. Her petition was declined, but over my objection. Lucas’ mother was exiled five years ago for carrying a half-human child and refusing to give it up. I’ve been vocal in my opposition of that particular law.
“All of my selected guards have sworn an oath to serve you,” Frederick says. “It’s essentially the basics of the Empress’ oath, which usually happens at the investiture, but given the circumstances.” He spreads his arms. “I thought you should have your own guard, even if it’s small. Had you been Heir last week, you’d have one already. Judica does.”
“Then you think I can trust them?”
Arlington bows his head slightly. “I only speak for myself, but you can trust me completely.”
“They’re all willing to follow you into exile, if that’s your choice,” Frederick offers.
“Even you?” I ask him. “You’ve been head of my mother’s guard for three centuries. And you’ll follow me into exile and live among the humans if I choose to abdicate?”
Frederick drops to one knee. “Your mother was the best monarch I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen quite a few in my position.”
I arch one eyebrow. “She’s been Empress the entire time you’ve been alive.”
“But I’ve seen many others from the other five families,” he says. “None of them could touch her, and she chose you as her successor.”
“She chose Judica first,” I say.
“She changed her mind. That’s enough for me.” Frederick grips the hilt of his sword with both hands. “I Frederick ne’Francesca Alamecha swear to serve and obey you, Chancery Alamecha, seventh daughter of Eve, and to place your health and safety over that of my own. I swear never to betray you in act, thought, or deed, and to support and assist my brothers and sisters in honoring their vows.”
Frederick stands.
“I guess that answers my question,” I say.
“Which was?” Frederick asks.
“I gathered that much, Your Majesty.” Arlington’s lip curls up on one side. “I’m glad, for your sake. You were always quite close.”
“It would be a terrible scandal,” I say, “and most citizens of Alamecha wouldn’t understand or support my decision.”
“There’s no reason for them to know,” Arlington says. “But you might be wrong about how many would accept it. You’ve been vocal about your positions, and more people support you than care to admit that publicly.”
I wonder how much truth there is to his words. I want to believe in my people, but I haven’t seen any evidence of his claim. “Lark will attend school with me. I hope I can trust my other guards with the knowledge that she’s still alive.”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Frederick says. “Since we plan to accompany you to school tomorrow.”
“Excuse me?” I lift one eyebrow. “How will I have any hope of blending in with the humans if I have guards following me around?”
“Alora arranged jobs for us around the school,” Frederick says. “Arlington is the new janitor, and I’m the new head of security.”
“How’d she do that?” I ask.
Frederick grins. “The school appreciates its largest donors.”
“Well, I think there has been plenty of time for any poison to take effect.” I eye the sandwiches greedily.
“How do you feel, Arlington?” Frederick asks.
“Fine. Wonderful.” And finally, the men approve the food and leave my room.
Lark ducks through the closet door a moment later. “Good news,” I tell her. “You’re fine to come and go in the normal hallway and enter the room even when you hear other voices.”
“Huh?” she asks.
“I cleared it with Frederick. My personal guard knows you’re alive, or they soon will.”
She blinks rapidly. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
I nod. “Positive. It’s not like people could really think much less of me than they already do on that regard anyway.”
“What about Edam? He’s Judica’s ex. Are you sure there’s no residual loyalty there?” Lark grabs a sandwich from the platter.
I think about Judica ordering him to the holding cell, and then his anger that I brought him with me. “I don’t think there’s a lot of love lost between the two of them, but he’s still a wild card, that’s for sure.” I don’t mention his offer, and I’m not sure why not.
“Speaking of, he wants me to review videos of Judica fighting.”
“Oh, good idea,” Lark says.
I hold my phone out in front of me so she can see it, too. “Glad you’re here. Maybe you’ll notice something I miss.”
“Doubtful,” she laments. “I’m deficient, remember?”
I eye her sideways. “You’re nothing of the sort, and I appreciate your help.”
The first file is dated just a month ago. February 14. I press play on my phone, and the video springs to life. Judica’s training in the main outdoor courtyard, but the angle of the camera is strange. I can only see the fight in the very corner of the screen.
At the beginning of the match, Judica’s smiling. She even laughs when her partner trips, and she gives him time to recover. Then she freezes, staring at something, people walking by in the main hallway.
Her entire body tenses, and her nostrils flare. She clenches her hands so tightly on the hilt of her sword that her knuckles turn white. Whatever she saw upset her, and everything about the fight shifts. She spins faster, sharper. She’s all lines and angles and spinning blades. At the end of the match, she trips over something, and Death leaps into the edge of the screen. I can’t make out exactly what happens, but there’s incoherent shouting, thanks to the video quality.
It’s clear enough that I see her sever her partner Fesian’s hand at the wrist. Evians can regenerate limbs, but regenerating a hand takes several hours. It’s also agonizing, but Judica doesn’t so much as acknowledge what she’s done. When she walks out of the arena she passes right under the camera, which is the only reason I notice her wipe the tear from her cheek. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I’d have said it was impossible given what I know of her.
Another viewer might not ever understand Judica’s emotions, but with perfect evian recall I can guess exactly what Judica witnessed. She saw me that day. February 14 is Valentine’s Day, my favorite day of the year with my mom. Mom always called me her little lovey dovey, or eventually as I grew older, her little dove. Mom kept me because she loved me and for no other reason. All her other daughters were trained to be her Heir immediately, and she sold her sons to other families so they’d sell their boys to her and her heirs would have a suitable group of options from which to select their consorts.
That February, Mom gave Judica and me both bright sundresses and forced us to eat breakfast together. We had fluffy pink pancakes and bacon, tall glasses of orange juice, and even Judica was reasonably pleasant. She didn’t stab my hand, steal my food, or call me names. It was such perfect weather, the three of us went for a run outside. Judica won the race, because of course what began as a friendly jog quickly turned into a competition. Running is probably one of the few things I could have bested her at, but it was Valentine’s Day.
I let her win.
It wasn’t as pathetic a gift as I gave her in the past, but it was my version of an olive branch. I still remember the width of her grin after beating me—it almost split her face in two. After that, we separated to train. Mom and I headed to our shared private courtyard, and Judica went to the main outdoor courtyard. Mom cut our session short because she had a surprise planned. She and I walked out and into the main courtyard. She told me in the hallway that she had a surprise planned for me.
Her eyes sparkled when she said, ““I thought you might like to do nothing at all today. My gift to you is an afternoon off from meetings, training, and politics.”
I had no idea Judica could see us, much less see us as we walked to the ballroom, which had been redone in honor of Valentine’s Day, roses and lilies covering every table, pink drapes, and bowls of strawberries, watermelon, raspberries and popcorn dyed pink. There was even a large screen set up against the wall.
We watched an animated film I’d never heard of called Brave. We smiled and laughed and didn’t worry about ruling, or politics, or anything else. It was one of my fondest memories with Mom. I can’t help the tears, remembering it.
I wish Judica hadn’t heard about Mom’s gift for me. But I’m even more ashamed that it didn’t even occur to me how left out she might have felt, training alone while we played like that. Mom didn’t exclude her on purpose, but Judica repeatedly said Valentine’s Day was silly. Judica’s horrible, but my heart contracts for her anyway. I make myself watch the whole video again.
“What pissed her off so badly, do you think?” Lark asks.
I jump. I forgot she was there momentarily. I swallow and say, “Mom and I passed by, and Mom had a surprise for me that day. I think it hurt her, seeing us going off together.”
Lark nods. “Maybe. Or she could have seen something else. Either way, her presence would have ruined that day for you, so don’t blame yourself. It sucks she was upset, but her exclusion’s on her, not you.”
“I guess so,” I say.
I don’t want to, but I force myself to watch the others. They start back in October and many of them seem to be normal days, but several others show clips of Judica reacting to my mom and I walking past, and once we even came into the room. Each time she sees us, she fights more viciously afterward, like she’s got the devil himself nipping at her heels.
I notice something else in the moments after she sees Mom and me. There’s a pattern there, a whisper of a dire song I can almost hear as I watch her fight. It’s the beginnings of the melodic line of Judica’s fighting style, but I can’t make any real sense o
f it, and when I try and play the tune in my mind, it slips away.
I promised Edam I’d train more after dinner, so once we finish with the videos, Lark heads back into hiding. I tell him about the videos I’ve watched, and then I tell him I’ve started to hear a hint of a melody when I watch them.
“You think you can hear her, what? Her fight song?” Edam asks, eyebrows raised.
“Don’t make it sound stupid.”
“I’m not trying to,” he says. “Honestly I’m not.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that I think maybe I should—”
“Should what?” he asks. “Write a song for her? Pick a string quartet as your weapon?”
“Stop making fun of me.”
“I’m not.” He shakes his head. “I get that a lot of masters learned with melodics, but Chancery, you aren’t there yet. You need to do what I’m telling you to do and look for her actual weaknesses. Stop worrying about songs and patterns and look for what’s really there.” He holds out one hand in request.
I pass him my phone. He opens a video and points at Judica on the screen. “See that, there? Did you see how Lucas barely stumbled back when she hit him on this side?” He waits. “But he wasn’t prepared and she annihilated him here?”
I nod. He’s right. I don’t know what I was thinking. The whisper of some kind of glimmer of a song and he’s supposed to do what? Sit on his hands because one day maybe my melodics training might click? Stupid.
Edam and I spend an hour or so reviewing videos together before he taps his watch and says, “Time to implement what you’ve learned.”
I don’t improve much, but at least my healing speed continues to accelerate. I glance down at the tatters of my pants after Edam calls it quits. I’m going to need new clothes if we keep training this often. I’m utterly exhausted when I finally shower for the second time and flop into bed.
Only I can’t sleep. Because tomorrow I’m going to school with scads of humans, and I’m more nervous than the first time I met the President of the United States.
After all, the kids at the high school don’t work for me. Or at least, they don’t know that they do.
Displaced (The Birthright Series Book 1) Page 19