“Can we focus on relevant facts?” Edam asks.
“You’re the one who brought up the eye color,” Noah says.
Edam glares at him but doesn’t yell or throw any projectiles. I think it’s progress.
I roll my newly blue eyes at them. “I’m relieved to see you both. I worried Edam might leave Noah floating in the ocean forever.”
“The thought did cross my mind,” Edam says. “Some shark would be desperate enough to eat him eventually.”
“I’m glad he survived,” I say. “Because I think I’m going to need Noah to call his parents and tell them the tip was bad. We don’t want to cause some kind of incident now that it’s been defused.”
“Sure,” Noah says.
“Or, we can give him a replacement jet and send him home,” Edam says. “He can tell them himself.”
“Not a terrible idea,” I say. “He does need to get back. He can’t stay here, amidst all this madness.”
“I think returning me should be low on the priority list. You broke your neck in the crash,” Noah says. “And most of your skin and face were…” He cuts off and shakes his head like he wants to erase the memory. “They were burned off.” He gulps.
“That sounds really gross.” I move my neck back and forth and touch my face. “But I feel fine now.”
“It was kind of cool to watch you healing, but it was slow. A lot slower than during your fight with your sister,” Noah says.
A terrible thought occurs to me. “If I broke my neck...” What about Paul and David? “Did the others...” I can’t bring myself to ask.
Edam shakes his head. David and Paul were both Selah’s boys. Evian families grow quite large, with such long lifespans and so many displaced heirs. Selah’s my first cousin, daughter of my aunt, and her boys served the family long and well. I wish I could blame Judica, but this solution was my decision.
“I’ll call her when we reach home,” I say. “Selah deserves to hear it from me.”
“A true ruler understands the responsibility that comes with freedom,” Edam says. “Your mom would be proud.”
I wondered how Edam would react if I survived the fight with Judica. I hoped he’d be pleased, but I haven’t had time to interact with him at all, really. And I lied to him right after appointing him my Prince Regent. He could be angry, very angry.
“Noah?” I ask. “Can you give us a minute?”
Noah doesn’t joke or poke or anything else. He nods and walks to the far end of the plane. When he’s far enough away that he can’t see us very well, I look at Edam.
He meets my gaze for a long moment before he says, “I was so afraid. Worse than when you fought Judica, because I couldn’t even see whether you were okay.”
“I had to do something,” I say.
“It’s who you are. But don’t ever do anything like that again without telling me. Please.”
“I’m Empress of Alamecha.” I’m surprised my tongue doesn’t stumble over the words. I’m surprised I don’t choke on them. But somehow, they sound right. I’m Empress. No big deal, I just rule a sixth of the world. “Danger’s part of the deal, Edam, and it always will be.”
He shakes his head. “You’ll never run from a fight, and that’s one of the things I love about you. People see your mercy as weakness, but they’re wrong. Being a good person doesn’t make you a weak person.”
“Then you understand.”
Edam closes the space between us and takes my hand. “I understand you, but I need you to understand me. You can’t leave me back at home to stand watch over your throne and polish your crown. You can’t do that. Because I don’t care about the throne, and I care a great deal about you. So the next time you leave to pursue some harebrained scheme, promise you’ll take me with you.”
I can’t breathe.
“I’ve been supportive, Chancery. I’ll always stand with you.” The next words sound strangled. “No matter who you eventually choose for your Consort, I’ll always defend and protect you. I think you will be the best ruler Alamecha has ever had, but that’s not the only reason I’ll stand by you.” His voice drops almost an octave and it does something to my stomach. Something shivery. Something not quite comfortable. “I love you Chancery. I love your mercy and I love your strength. I love your humor and I love your intensity. I love your reticence and I love your boldness. Those things aren’t opposites, they’re complimentary. You’re complex and caring and unique and a world without you in it feels unbearably bleak to me. Let me place you first, and we’ll be fine. Can you do that?”
“I think so,” I whisper.
“And you should know that I didn’t only offer to be your Consort to keep you safe. I did it because nothing would bring me more joy.”
I open my mouth, but Edam places a finger over it.
“You’re not ready to make that kind of decision and I respect that. You’re so young still, and I’ll never rush you. But I want you to be utterly positive about where I stand. Say the word tomorrow, or next week, or in a year or in a hundred years. I won’t change my mind.”
As I look into his eyes, so full of longing, I want to say yes. It would be so much simpler to have someone to rely on, someone to share this load with. I trust him, and I believe what he told me, but a part of me isn’t ready to choose a Consort. Besides, I need to be strong now, and immediately choosing a Consort doesn’t seem like the action of a person who can manage things alone. I may be young, but I’m not a little girl who needs saving.
“I can’t,” I say. “Not yet. So I’m saying no, but I’m not saying never.”
Edam brushes his lips against mine. “I’ll take it.” He straightens and takes a seat and I think our conversation is over. I barely hear his next question. “Is it because of my sister?”
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “But I don’t know.”
He looks away again and this time, I don’t say anything else because there’s nothing more to say.
When we get back home, the palace in Ni’ihau looks like a kicked anthill.
Balthasar’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He pulls me down and into strong, familiar arms. “Welcome back and congratulations, Chancery. You deserve it. You could’ve won the traditional way, but what you did was even harder. Knowing their opponent is something very few people manage to do. Your mother would be so proud of you. You’ve grown into the woman she always wanted you to become.”
I wipe away a tear and squeeze him a little tighter. I never knew my dad, but I’ve always imagined he’d be little bit like Balthasar. Tough, handsome, knowledgeable, and gruff, but always speaking the truth. “Thanks.”
He releases me but still looks at me warmly. “Now we need to talk about setting up your personal guard.”
“Tomorrow,” I say, “will be soon enough.”
“Who will keep you safe tonight?” he asks.
Noah and Edam both take a step closer. I try not to roll my eyes. “I’m keeping Frederick as head of my personal guard.”
Balthasar raises his eyebrows. “Do you trust him?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He sighs. “Okay. But what about these two?” He doesn’t even pretend to whisper. “One of them is a human, and the other is Judica’s ex-boyfriend. Hardly a suitable support team.”
I don’t roll my eyes, and I won’t roll my eyes, because it’s not respectful. “I’m okay with it.”
“I’ll inform Frederick of his position and ask him to coordinate our process for establishing your guard and the rotation.”
Larena, Mom’s chamberlain, finds me next. “Your Majesty, welcome back. Agents of the Five have all contacted us to extend congratulations, and they’re all asking when the investiture will take place.”
“Monday. We’ve waited long enough.”
She nods. “Alora has requested permission to visit and extend her congratulations.”
I ought to order her to come. I should drag her here in chains. “Granted.” I should set up a trial, b
ut I can’t bring myself to do it. Not with Alora, at least not until I know exactly what she did and why. Shades of gray. Why are there so many?
Of course that’s not everything. Larena, whom I plan to keep as my chamberlain, has a million other questions, but I’m too tired to answer them all. I’ve nearly reached my room when Inara stomps into view. Seeing her hale and whole in front of me warms every chamber of my heart. I run toward her and she pulls me into a tight hug.
“I watched the video feed,” she says, a tear in her left eye. “And you were absolutely brilliant.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Do you think I made a mistake?”
“Sparing her life?” Inara asks.
I swallow.
“Probably, but you’re not Enora, and you’re not me, and you’re not Judica. You have to do what you think is right.”
I smile at her. “Thanks.”
“Did you find the sword I left you?”
I bob my head. “I am sorry for what you went through here alone. So sorry. And it was so generous of you to offer me that sword, but I couldn’t risk your future if I lost.”
Inara’s smile is sad. “And you found Mother’s old sword, and you did a beautiful thing with it. I’m so proud of you, little dove.”
“Proud enough to step in for me?” I ask. “Because Larena has a lot of questions and I’m about to collapse from exhaustion.”
“Of course.” Inara bites her lip. “But before you go to sleep, I have news.”
Nothing good, judging by her expression. Noah and Edam both inch a little closer to me as if they can protect me from it.
“Um, you do know this one’s human?” Inara eyes Noah like she’d eye a McDonald’s hamburger, or Payless shoes.
“I do. It’s fine.”
“I’m not at all saying this as an ‘I told you so.’ I think what you did was brave and merciful, and that’s sort of your brand. But sometimes mercy isn’t warranted.”
“Just tell me what happened.”
“It’s Judica,” she says.
“What about her?” I ask. “Did she set her room on fire? Or she’s on a hunger strike? What?”
“She’s gone.”
The End
If you enjoyed Displaced, I’ve included the first chapter of the second book, unForgiven, as a small bonus. Check it out!
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Author’s Note
I plotted four books for this series, chapter by chapter. I always plot my books in advance of writing, and when I have a series planned, I plot them all before writing the first words. But in the process of writing the first book, Judica jumped out at me, begging to have her side of the story told. I ignored her as long as I could, but eventually I gave in and plotted her adventure.
That’s why unForgiven, the second book, is told from Judica’s perspective. It’s shorter than the five-hundred page tomes telling Chancery’s tale, but it is full length. (More than 200 pages).
If you want to skip book two, you can go straight to three and follow Chancery’s story just fine without it, but I believe Judica deserves a chance to explain herself. (And I think you’ll like her a little more once you dive in.) In case you’re on the fence about reading an entire book told by Judica, I’ve included the first chapter as a bonus at the end of this one.
<3
Bridget
35
unForgiven
I’ve never believed in God. Mother mentioned that my father bought into all that nonsense, but I’ve always been far too practical. On top of that, the Bible is a human record, which means it isn’t very reliable. Which is why, when I slam the door to my room shut and one book falls off the edge of my bookcase, I don’t read anything into the fact that it’s the Bible. It could just as easily have been The Art of War, the Quran, or Quantum Physics.
I stoop to pick it up so I can slide it back into the empty slot, but my hand freezes over the page. It’s open to Genesis chapter 25, which is nowhere near the middle of the book where I’d expect it to fall open.
31. And Jacob said, Sell me this day thy birthright.
32. And Esau said, Behold I am at the point to die; and what profit shall this birthright do to me?
33. And Jacob said, Swear to me this day; and he sware unto him: and he sold his birthright unto Jacob.
34. Then Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentils; and he did eat and drink, and rose up and went his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright.
A chill runs up my spine. I’ve read the entire Bible as part of my human studies coursework. This isn’t a new passage to me. Jacob and Esau aren’t even the only twins in the Bible. But in their tradition, Esau had the birthright, which meant he’d inherit all his father had as the older twin.
And he sold it to Jacob for a bowl of mush.
I don’t pick up the book. I walk across the room to my bed instead, sinking down into the covers with a stifled cry of anguish, one hand clutching the figure eight necklace hiding under my tattered shirt.
My mother is dead. I fought my twin and lost, and what’s worse, all of Alamecha witnessed my failure. First they saw me snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, and then they saw me hand it right back to her.
Why did I do it?
Why did Esau do it? He couldn’t have needed a bowl of stew that badly. There has to be more to the story. But that line at the end is strange. I don’t recall paying any attention to it before. Esau despised his birthright. What does that mean? I close my eyes and try to recall my human studies class.
In Ancient East tradition, all sons received a birthright, a share of the father’s wealth, but the oldest received a double share, or something like that. בָּזָה in Hebrew, means to regard lightly I believe. My tutor told me it meant that he cared more about his physical well-being in the moment than for the spiritual blessings the birthright from God would promise him.
But now I wonder whether perhaps he hated the idea of being the head of the household. Did he realize he would agonize over every single decision, rationing the seconds of every single day like a miser, eaten alive constantly by the stress of perfection? Perhaps forgoing his birthright for that bowl of stew felt inevitable to him, if he hated it so much.
Was relinquishing his birthright the best thing Esau ever did?
If so, maybe humans and evians aren’t as different as I’ve always been taught. Because my hands begin to shake, and for the first time in my life, I take a breath, a deep, unconcerned breath. I don’t care whether my heart races, or my expression wobbles, or my enemies are hatching plots based on the information they gained from the wobbles and the racing.
I’m still Chancery’s heir for a while, but ultimately she will move along, and the burden of Alamecha will shift off of me.
My life will be my own.
For the first time in eighteen years, I have no idea what I’ll be doing ten years from now, or even six months from now. I flop back on my bed and close my eyes. What is it Chancy’s always doing? Listening to music or watching stupid stories play out about fake people on a television screen? Reading even more insipid tales about the lives of humans? Pah.
I can’t waste my time like that.
A tap at my door rescues me from tipping head first into a black hole. I sit up and brush off my blood-stained pants. I really should have spent the past few minutes showering instead of laying on my formerly clean bed. At least my covers are black and unlikely to show blood stains.
“Come in.”
The door cracks and Roman’s head peeks around the corner. His tawny golden eyes assess the room like he’s looking for a bomb or a landmine. I suppose dealing with me may have scarred him permanently.
I flop back on my bed with a groan. “What do you want?”
“Just making sure you’re alive.” He grins, his big white teeth bright against the dark brown skin of his face, and the mahogany bristle of his beard.
I flinch. “I’m alive. Now leave.”
Roman walks inside anyway and closes the door.
I bolt upright, my shoulders too stiff. I force them to relax. “You still have to obey my commands. I’m still Heir.”
Roman grins. “Yes, Your Highness. Of course, Your Highness.” He crosses the room and sits down next to me. “I thought you might want to hear the news.”
“What news?” I arch one eyebrow.
“Your sister has left, no one was told where, and Edam has been made Prince Regent in her absence. He doesn’t appear to be handling things very smoothly.”
She still hasn’t named him Consort, which is bizarre. What is she waiting for? Is it possible she’s holding off to try and spare my feelings? If so, she’s an even bigger idiot than I thought. “Is that all?”
“That’s all.”
“Then you can go.”
“I think I’ll stay for a while.” He shifts on the bed so he can see my face while sitting next to me.
“I lost.” I throw the words up like a shield. Back off, Roman. I’m not in the mood to deal with you right now.
“I saw.”
“I know you saw,” I practically growl at him. “What I want to know is what you’re doing in here, right now. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Was I unclear on that?”
“Sometimes what you want and what you need aren’t the same,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “Thanks, Ghandi. Appreciate you dropping pearls of wisdom, but I don’t need or want you in my room.”
Roman puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his chest. I consider stabbing him with the knife I keep on my bedside table. Or a good jab to his solar plexus would remind him that I’m still his commander, even now, even after I lost to my pathetic sister. But I don’t do either of those. Instead, it’s like the inside of my chest splinters and I collapse against him, sobbing.
Displaced (The Birthright Series Book 1) Page 42