Dark Star Rising

by Bennett R. Coles

  He hurried to catch Templegrey, reaching the carriage first and offering his hand to help her in. He climbed up, taking the seat facing her in the small compartment. He looked out the window to where Amelia watched, and beyond through the glass to the dusty, bulky hull of Daring. The ship had berthed under her own name this time and the crew were free to take shore leave. It was a relief to not have to play the role of Captain Julian Stonebridge for this visit, but as he turned his mind to the mission this evening, Liam knew it was no time to relax.

  Templegrey gazed out the window toward the shops as the carriage started to roll forward.

  “I do envy Amelia,” she mused suddenly. “I’d rather go shopping than endure another ball.”

  Bejeweled and bedecked, she looked the very image of a noble lady. But her expression was severe and her eyes were hard. Liam recognized the significance of this moment: alone in the carriage, away from all prying eyes, she was dropping her noble façade. It was something she rarely did even in the ship, and it spoke volumes to the trust she had in him.

  “Why don’t you two make a date of it tomorrow?” he suggested.

  “Don’t tempt me, Liam,” she said, her eyebrow arching. “And I think she’d rather have the date with you.”

  “Yes, but then I’d have to go shopping.”

  She laughed appreciatively.

  “Why the new dress?” he asked. “I thought you’d want to show off your Imperial gown again.”

  “We said this was all about blending in,” she replied, her gaze drifting down. “I love that gown, but it would draw too much attention. With this”—she plucked at the folds of fabric— “I’m just another lady at the ball.”

  “Shall we separate to cover more ground? I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your charms.”

  “I’d prefer,” she said, with a sudden sharp look, “if you stay close, actually. Whenever I work a room alone it sends a message that I’m looking for a husband.”

  “Hmm. But if we’re together, might it start a rumor of an impending union of the Blackwood and Templegrey families?”

  “You could do worse,” she quipped. “But honestly, rumors will start based on anything, even the color of my dress—those vapid fops die without gossip. If they want to whisper about you and me, it will keep them busy and buy me more time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “Time for not being married.” She sighed, staring out the window again as the bright interior of the station rolled by. “Studying medicine gave me an excuse, and serving in the Navy will give me a few more years. But eventually I’ll be married off, and then what fun will that be?”

  Arranged marriages were perhaps Liam’s least favorite topic of conversation and he pushed down the sudden rush of old anger. The reaction surprised him. Templegrey’s expression shifted and she stared at him curiously.

  “No fun at all,” he said finally. “I remember well being paraded around as a youth to grand balls, like a stallion in the market—but my older brother had it far worse. Are you the eldest?”

  “Eldest daughter. And therefore the key to securing future wealth for the house Templegrey. If only our prize money was as life-changing for us as it is for the common sailors.” She sighed and stared out the window again. “Eventually I’ll have to do what every fine lady does for her family, and marry money.”

  Liam really did not like where this conversation was leading, and he tried to blank his mind.

  “We’ll have to find Lord Grandview early,” he said, switching topics, “before too many other people start demanding his time.”

  “And let’s hope Silverhawk isn’t on the guest list. His ship is still in port.”

  Daring had shadowed Arrow all the way back from the attack on Storm Wind, the frigate’s sails better suited to sailing into the wind than the cutter’s. Riverton had berthed her ship on the opposite side of the vast station from Silverhawk’s, and hopefully the vain lord would be too concerned with himself to pay them attention.

  “You think he’ll even notice us?”

  “One must be prepared,” she said with a tiny shrug. She lifted her eyes to meet his, a startling, vivid blue, and her lips parted in a perfect smile.

  The moment of candor was over, he realized, watching her noble persona emerge once again. Her expression settled into one of regal contentment. She was right, he knew, and he had to get himself into the proper mindset. He pushed out all thoughts of arranged marriages and pirate missions, and began to think tactically like a courtier.

  The carriage ride was surprisingly long, the docks on the outward side of the concourse giving way first to exclusive shops, then clubs, and finally residences. The carriage pulled to a stop in front of a façade elegantly crafted to look like a large manor house, complete with upper floor windows and real wooden trim. Liam climbed out and helped Templegrey down, offering his arm to her as they approached the grand double doors. There were the usual announcements, the receiving line with the hosts—a lord and lady from deep within the Hub, enjoying a leisurely tour of the inner Halo—and finally they stepped through into the ballroom.

  The outer wall was mostly transparent, the station’s hull cut into an undulating, wavelike form that gave stunning views of the Hub. No artificial lights were needed in the vast room as starlight flooded across the intricate patterns wrought into the floor and illuminated the banners of the Empire hung proudly. The guests moved among the brilliant rays, long shadows casting an ephemeral, dancing spell over the chamber.

  “How lovely,” Templegrey commented as she strolled on Liam’s arm toward the outer windows. “But I confess I preferred the view from the Brightlake home. It was warmer, more welcoming.”

  She didn’t know it, but Templegrey was slipping knife after knife into Liam.

  “Yes,” he said stiffly, “it was a beautiful home.”

  “And now seized by that wretched Silverhawk,” she said, her grip suddenly tightening on his arm. “It’s quite the scandal, and many noble houses are worried.”

  “Are there lots of debts?”

  “Oh, yes. There always are, but until now it’s always just been another form of influence and favors. No lender ever demanded repayment of the coin—the debt just became leverage in the never-ending game of scheming and one-upmanship that is the Imperial court. To have one of the major houses so humiliated and bankrupted . . .”

  “So, this might happen again, to another house?” Out on distant Passagia, the Blackwood family rarely if ever had financial dealings with the inner houses.

  She nodded. “The extravagances of court get more expensive every year. For any house wishing to maintain a presence there, it can be crippling.”

  “But houses do it to protect their reputation,” he mused, understanding if not agreeing.

  “I feel sorry for the poor Brightlakes. It’s one thing to be in financial trouble, but to have your family name so disgraced . . .”

  A turmoil of emotion churned through Liam. Memories of so many happy days at the Brightlake estate overwhelmed his mental defenses and flooded into his mind’s eye. He let himself embrace it all for a moment, then pushed it aside.

  “They were a loyal family,” he said finally, “steeped in tradition. They did not deserve this fate.”

  “How did you know them?”

  “For a time,” he said, “as a young man, I was a frequent visitor to their house. I . . . knew Lady Zara best.”

  “Oh.” Templegrey rested her free hand on his. “I see.”

  “But soon enough she married one Lord Fairfield,” he said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Another arranged marriage for the good of the dynasty.”

  “I have my own personal connection to that, Liam,” she said, her expression sad.

  “How so?”

  “Fairfield was my father’s cousin,” she continued. “I don’t remember him—he and Lady Fairfield died when I was just a girl.”

  “You’re related to Fairfield?” he asked tonelessly, managing to not spi
t the name.

  “Well, yes, but they’re all gone now, aren’t they? Such a terrible loss, that storm.”

  Liam knew that the proper reaction to this was polite interest—an interesting connection but old news. But after so long, it still hurt too much.

  Templegrey watched him for a moment but said nothing more. Instead she snapped her fingers at a nearby servant, who brought them drinks.

  “To success in our mission, Lord Blackwood,” she said, lifting her glass, “and to much wealth, happiness, and peace for us all.”

  “To success,” he echoed. He drained the glass, then looked anew across the ballroom.

  “So did they have any good beer at that swanky ball you went to?”

  Amelia laughed at the question, putting down the shoes she’d been admiring. Able Rating Hedge—or just her old buddy Mia Hedge, this afternoon—stood across from her, holding up a pair of gaudy slippers as she waited for an answer. She made the slippers dance in the air.

  “Did you have to spin and twirl until everyone puked?”

  “No, they didn’t have any good beer,” Amelia replied with a grin, “and there was twirling on offer but I didn’t indulge. I didn’t want to puke on my dress.”

  “What fun is that?” Hedge scoffed, tossing down the shoes.

  They’d been roaming the high street for several hours, just happy to get off the ship. Hedge had a full pouch of coins she was determined to part with this evening, but whether it was on clothes or booze she wasn’t too fussed. So far they’d sampled a bit of both.

  “I think I’m going to get something like these,” Amelia mused, holding up a pair of dark brown boots that felt comfy but were strong enough to take the abuse of shipboard life. She glanced over to the rear part of the store, where the cobbler was hard at work. “Let me see if he’s got some to fit me.”

  “You do that, and I’ll check out the dress shop next door.”

  Hedge took her cloth sacks filled with shopping treasures and strolled out the door. Amelia showed her boots to the cobbler, who told her that he could make her a custom pair and deliver it to her ship in the morning. He expertly measured her, confirmed her choice from a selection of materials, and wrote up a receipt noting her down payment, all the while maintaining a pleasant hum of conversation. As she left the store, Amelia felt like she was the most important person in the world.

  Yes, she admitted to herself as she entered the dress shop, she could get used to a life of privilege. She scanned the vibrant colors all around her: bolts of fabric, sketches of finished gowns, and, of course, a beautiful selection of dresses to admire.

  Hedge was at the rear of the shop, already trying on a dress. She shifted and turned in front of a long mirror, examining herself from every angle. Her pretty face was screwed up in thought and she glanced at Amelia.

  “What do you think?”

  It wasn’t her style at all, Amelia could see. But then again, all the fashions in a place like Emperor’s Reach were like nothing they had back home on Passagia. Still . . .

  “Hedgie, you’re beautiful enough to make anything work, but you might be a bit too buxom for that dress.”

  Hedge cackled. “Isn’t that what I’m going for?”

  “Yes, but . . .” Amelia looked closely, trying to figure out exactly why it didn’t work. The dress was simply cut for a woman of slimmer build—a waif who’d never even sniffed at real work let alone done any. Hedge’s broad shoulders, powerful arms, and thick legs just wanted to burst through that thin fabric. “I’m worried that you’ll tear it the first evening out.”

  “Better for a fancy ball than a night at the pub, eh?”

  “I think so.”

  “Yeah. Let me try another.”

  As Hedge went behind the privacy screen, Amelia let her eyes drift across the gorgeous fabrics displayed along the wall. One side of the store offered completed outfits, but clearly this tailor did custom jobs as well. The woman herself was seated behind a broad worktable, humming to herself as she wove a delicate thread.

  “You still got that gown in the stores office?” Hedge called from behind the screen.

  “Yes, and I’m sure it will see plenty more action.”

  “I thought you needed a new dress for every event?”

  “That’s why I go to different planets for each one—same dress, different crowd.”

  Hedge poked her head around the screen, pointing. “Hey, Virts, get me that blue one.”

  She pulled the indicated dress off its hanger and handed it over. Not content to listen to Hedge’s soft curses as she fought with the unfamiliar garb, Amelia wandered over to the bolts of fabric. She saw a deep, almost starry black at one end, and it made her think of Riverton’s and Templegrey’s stunning gowns at the Brightlake ball.

  “Excuse me,” she asked the tailor, “but have you ever made an Imperial gown?”

  The woman looked up in mild surprise.

  “I have,” she replied, her eyes clearly assessing Amelia’s likely worth. “But they’re very rare.”

  “Could you use that black for the lower part?”

  She studied the fabric for a moment. “Hmm. Normally, an Imperial gown requires a deeper black . . . but I see what you’re thinking. It would be unorthodox, but beautiful.”

  “How do you get the colors to blend so smoothly in such a gown? I just can’t figure it out.”

  “A trade secret, my dear,” she said with a smile. “But I appreciate you noticing.”

  Hedge burst forth to show off her latest consideration.

  “What do you think?” she asked as she sized herself up in the mirror.

  The dress was more full-bodied and definitely more discreet in hemlines than the previous one.

  “Not bad at all,” Amelia said.

  “You’re so lovely,” the tailor offered. “And that dress could be adjusted to match your figure perfectly.”

  “Yeah?” Hedge grinned at her own reflection.

  “May I?” The tailor rose from her chair and approached Hedge, wrapping a measuring tape over her shoulders and holding a box of pins.

  Amelia looked through the other dresses on display while the tailor made adjustments on Hedge. There were some beautiful outfits, but she really couldn’t justify spending the money on another fancy gown when she had one hanging up on the ship. Maybe Ava could afford to have a new frock for every ball, but Amelia preferred to make good use of her existing supplies.

  “Did you see Lady Templegrey as she left the ship today?” she asked suddenly.

  “Yeah,” Hedge replied. “I’d be happy to take her castoffs. Like that amazing dress she had when you guys were on Cornucopia.”

  “Oh, that’s her Imperial gown. I’m surprised she didn’t wear it again tonight.”

  “She never wears anything twice, I’m sure.”

  “But I thought an Imperial gown was a uniform, so it could be worn again.”

  “Oh, yes,” the tailor replied, adjusting the hem at Hedge’s ankle. “An Imperial gown is the investment of a lifetime. It’s a dress intended to be worn many times. I’d hope so, for the cost.”

  “How much do they cost?”

  The tailor glanced up at Amelia, a sparkle in her eyes. “Do you really want to know?”

  “I kinda do.”

  “About twenty thousand.”

  Amelia couldn’t stop the gasp as her jaw dropped open. She’d been ready for a big number, but that was the equivalent of a full load of supplies for Daring. It was more money than most people would see in a lifetime.

  “It appears,” she managed to say, “that Lady Templegrey has a different perspective on money from us.”

  “You just figuring that out now, sister?” Hedge scoffed.

  “Well, I . . .”

  “You’ve been hanging out in that senior mess too long. I know we don’t really see their wealth when we’re in space, but come alongside, and . . . we might be on the same planet, but we’re in different worlds.”

  Amelia thou
ght back to the Brightlake estate, the most beautiful setting she’d ever seen. And that apparently belonged to a midlevel noble. Riverton and Templegrey both came from even wealthier families, and the Blackwoods couldn’t be that far behind.

  “Don’t sweat it, Virts,” Hedge said, not unkindly. “I know they’re your posse on the ship, but just remember that this is the real world we’re in now. I’m sure Templegrey and the XO are being fed champagne from the hands of scantily dressed servants right now.”

  Amelia doubted that, but she felt herself reddening as she imagined Liam and Ava gliding their way through another grand ball.

  “Well, they’re working this evening,” she said, as much to herself as Hedge. “They won’t have time for scantily dressed servants.”

  “Ha! You remember that pretty boy noble we had on the ship months back? You gave me the best advice when you told me to keep clear of him. You were right—he was nothing but bad news.”

  “Yeah, he was.”

  “So take your own advice,” Hedge continued, smiling warmly. “Keep clear of the noblemen. They all eventually get married off to noblewomen, anyway.”

  “What?”

  “It’s that arranged marriage thing they do,” she scoffed. “Do you think any of them actually marry the people they like? Trust me, the only real freedom we commoners have is the freedom to marry whatever idiot we want.”

  It was, Amelia suddenly realized, a topic Liam had never brought up. Not that she was expecting a marriage proposal or anything, but . . . what were his intentions?

  “I know you still have a crush on the XO,” Hedge blathered on, “and I think honestly he might be a little sweet on you—I notice these things. But don’t chase the dream, honey. His family will have already decided who he’s marrying.”

  She reminded herself firmly that Hedge knew nothing about how the nobility really worked. She turned away, focusing on the sketches of gowns mounted on the wall.

  One in particular caught her attention, bold for its stark quality. The sketch showed the front of a pure white dress with a vertical black line bisecting it and a horizontal black line around the waist. It was almost like a black cross . . . or, she suddenly realized, a dark star. She stared at it, finally noticing the trim line of gold mixed with a deep red. Was this a message, or just a popular design? Amelia wasn’t sure which idea frightened her more.