by Rebecca Rode
Challenge. Bow. It was as if she were meeting the emperor, not the leader of a ragtag rebellion in a glorified tent on a poisonous planet.
I have yet to discover whether the Union is the antithesis of the Empire or an extension of it. Dai’s last warning, a gift to her as he passed on. She intended to find out for herself.
The man opened the door and stepped aside. “After you, Lady Flare.”
Flare - Chapter 2
Ember raised herself from the chair again and stretched her arms. She remained alone in the sitting room despite waiting over an hour.
“I could have showered by now,” she grumbled for the third time, her voice echoing against the hard walls of the empty room.
The Daughter’s chambers were apparently a large network of pods connected by tunnels. She likely wanted plenty of living space without an obviously large building to show for it. There were two doors in the sitting room, which couldn’t have been wider than six paces in either direction. She’d entered through the first door; the second remained locked. Ember had already tried it.
Though the hard walls were unadorned, everything else was. Three soft blue chairs lined up behind Ember in a straight, orderly fashion. Beneath the chairs sat a circular, waterproof rug. The plastic floor at Ember’s feet barely moved with the waves outside. The Daughter couldn’t be bothered with a home that moved at the ocean’s whim.
Ember tried to recall the conversation she’d had with the Daughter before leaving Earth. The woman insisted on having her flickers read Ember for signs of disloyalty. Would they read her before allowing her inside? Or would flickers be waiting in the Daughter’s chambers?
A muffled voice sounded from the other side of the door.
Ember heard a click, and the door swung open. It was Amai.
“The Daughter is ready to see you,” she said. “I trust your escort instructed you on proper protocol?”
Ember nodded. All the Daughter had ever done was be born to the right family. She was worshipped for the very blood that ran through her veins—the very reason Ember had grown up despised by her own people. She was about to find out how much they had in common.
“Follow me,” Amai said, turning to make her way into the tunnel. “She doesn’t have much time for you, so walk fast.”
Walk fast? She’d waited so long already, and suddenly she was supposed to hop at the Daughter’s command? Ember scowled as she followed.
The floor felt alarmingly thin beneath her feet as they maneuvered from pod to pod. Locked doors blocked their path at every turn, Amai knocking and giving passcodes before being granted entrance. Each code was different and in an unfamiliar language.
It made Ember see Amai in a whole new light. How many languages did this woman know? And why had she shaved her head on their journey here? Preparation to meet her liege, perhaps?
At the eleventh door, Amai faced Ember directly for the first time. “I’ll wait here. Good luck.”
Questions filled Ember’s mind, but she was too impatient to voice them. She stepped around Amai and tapped on the door. It opened immediately. A guard in a heavily decorated green uniform looked her up and down before giving a single, quick nod. Then he stepped aside.
Ember pushed through. The pod, its walls rounded and the ceiling domed, wasn’t much bigger than the receiving room she’d waited in. The difference wasn’t in space but in quality. The floor was a polished white, the walls a soft-pink silk. The extremely bright light in the room was being magnified by a clear multifaceted stone in the ceiling. It allowed light in and shot it around in a dozen different colors, giving the woman sitting in the center of the room an almost supernatural look.
Ember shivered at the sudden chill that skittered across her skin, a sharp contrast to the bright light around her. It must have taken an entire generator to power this room. The air must have been filtered because it lacked the sourness of the outdoors.
The Daughter was as Ember remembered. The woman had to be in her thirties. Thirty-six, Ember recalled Commander Kane saying. She wore a white gown, although the bust was higher cut than the one Ember had seen her wearing a week ago and lined in gold. The woman held herself with a majestic bearing, her auburn hair coiled delicately atop her head, as she examined her guest.
The guard behind Ember coughed gently, no doubt a reminder she was supposed to bow. Resentment flooded her stomach, replacing the dull nausea she’d been experiencing the past hour. The Daughter needed her, not the other way around. She inclined her head instead, lowering her gaze to the floor. “Your Eminence.”
The woman regarded her with a cool stare. “Very little military training thus far,” she mused. “That much is obvious. And her defenses are poor. Alarmingly so.”
“She will be difficult to train, High One,” the guard said from the door. With a start, Ember realized he was more than a guard. She should have known from the badges on his uniform. He had to be a military commander of some kind. From the patches of white hair lining his head and his steely gaze, the man was no stranger to combat. He watched her with the same critical expression as his liege.
Ember angled herself so she could see both at once, uncomfortable with the fact that she now stood between them. “I can defend myself just fine.”
“You will not speak unless addressed, flare,” the officer snapped. He paused as if listening to something, then lowered his head. “All is in order, High One. The report has been confirmed.”
“Excellent. You may go, General Pyne.”
The man slipped out. Now the two women were completely alone, the Daughter staring at Ember as if she were a child who’d done something naughty.
“I don’t need to be trained,” Ember said. “I can handle anything you have planned.”
“Anything?” The Daughter chuckled. “At least you’re confident, flare.”
“Ember.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s right. You always have been sensitive about your name, haven’t you. That was mentioned in the report.”
The report again. Had that information come from Amai? The pilots? Bianca? That last thought made her uncomfortable. “I prefer to be called by my name than by my—ability.” She’d managed to avoid calling it a curse, though that was exactly what it was.
The Daughter cocked her head. “I see it differently. The stars decreed that I succeed the emperor, and so my title renders my given name irrelevant.”
Succeed the emperor. Was that really her plan? Ember strained to remember what Mar had told her about the Daughter. Something about the emperor and a fight. If he had removed her as heir, it made sense that only an army could place her on the throne.
“I have a gift for you.” The Daughter retrieved an object from a hidden pocket and tossed it to Ember, who caught it with one hand. A vial of mud?
No, not mud. Sand. Tiny grains of familiar black, gray, and white sand glittered in the bottom half of the vial as she angled it to the light. The top was filled with clear water with a hint of brown. It brought such a sharp longing for home that Ember’s chest tightened.
“It’s from Earth,” the Daughter continued. “The beach near your home. Amai collected it on my order before you left.”
“Thank you,” Ember managed.
“It’s more than just a gift. It’s a reminder. We’re similar, you and I. Two entities made of different materials but working together to serve a purpose. Being raised near a coastline, you are more familiar with the nature of water and sand than most.”
It wasn’t a question. This woman was testing her, trying to put her off guard. Hinting that she knew things. How much the Daughter knew about her was a mystery.
Ember chose her next words carefully. “I know what they are, yes.”
“Good. Then you know that the two by themselves can do little. They are powerless, tossed about by the forces around them.” She leaned forward. “But combine them over time, and you can break down an entire mountain.”
Ember believed it was the min
erals in the water that broke things down, but she didn’t mention that. “A mountain called the Empire.”
“A mountain called the emperor. The Empire didn’t start as a terrible entity, Ember. People needed regulation. They needed somebody to make final decisions and keep things in order. The problem is, our current emperor cares more about his investments and the size of his armies than he does his people. His conquests are brutal, his hand heavy. He wields fear as a weapon while he keeps his distance from his own people.” She began to drum her fingers on the armrest, her lips curving into a smile. “My followers agree that a change of leadership will be the first step in turning the Empire back to its original intent—to protect and guide.”
Ember squirmed. The Daughter’s speech sounded far too rehearsed, her voice flat and unfeeling. It felt like an empty promise. Even if she succeeded in helping the Daughter accomplish her goals, the Empire would remain intact. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that possibility.
“And your followers agree with you?” Ember asked. “That the Empire is inherently good, I mean.”
The Daughter leaned forward now. “Not good. Absolutely critical. The Empire has improved the quality of life on numerous planets, regulated currency and language systems, raised space-travel standards, and encouraged scientific exploration. Doing away with it completely would wreak havoc across several galaxies.” Her voice was incredulous, as if such a thing were unthinkable. “No, we need to enact change slowly, carefully, under a steady, experienced hand.”
Ember folded her arms. The Daughter implied she had experience, but Ember knew little about the Union’s past. The Union had existed twenty years ago, before Dai arrived on Earth. The Daughter had been in her teens, far too young to raise an army then. Had she been given charge of these people upon the original leader’s death? Or had the Daughter murdered her predecessor and taken control?
So many questions. If only Ember had been allowed to research the Union a little more before committing. But the Union was the only way to free Stefan, which made her as much a prisoner as he was.
Ember sighed. “What is it you want me to do?”
The Daughter crossed her legs in a graceful movement. Then she folded her hands in her lap. “For now, I’m placing you over a unit of flickers. You will train them for combat. Very soon your flicker team will be called upon to rescue others like yourself from the Empire’s greedy hands. I want all of them safe.”
And in your hands instead, Ember wanted to say, but she kept her expression smooth. “You said ‘for now.’ And after that?”
The Daughter’s smile went hard. “If you prove yourself, you’ll help me take the throne, one way or another.”
Ember froze. “You . . . you want me to kill the emperor.”
“You want details I cannot give yet, especially with your defenses so inadequate. I’ve already taken a huge risk in bringing you here. If the Empire were to attack and take you prisoner, they would be able to retrieve all that has been said here today.”
Ember shook her head. “I wouldn’t tell . . .” Then she realized something. “You’ve already done the reading on me, haven’t you?”
The Daughter went silent, but Ember read the truth in the woman’s dark eyes. The long wait. Ember sitting there in the receiving room alone. She hadn’t thought to shield her thoughts.
You need to work on your inner defenses, Stefan had once told her. She felt foolish for not following his advice, especially here, when she was far from safe and surrounded by strangers.
Ember pulled the mental shield around her mind as her flicker trainers had instructed, though she knew it was too late to do any good now. She hadn’t felt the other flickers’ touch her inner light at all. How was she supposed to train other flickers in their defenses if she couldn’t even protect herself? Perhaps she needed more training after all. Training that would ultimately lead . . .
Her gut twisted at the Daughter’s insinuation that Ember assassinate the emperor. She’d escaped Commander Kane’s claws only to be placed into the hands of a greed-driven member of the imperial family. Stars. She’d intended to take the Empire down, not simply replace its leader.
“You know everything about me, then,” Ember said carefully. Had they seen her father’s warning about the Daughter? Surely they hadn’t understood it, or she wouldn’t be standing here in front of the woman alone. “But I need to know one thing. If we are to work together—as sand and water, or whatever else—I need to know your plans for me once you take the emperor’s throne.”
“You will rise with me, of course. All who serve me will have important positions.”
“And if I have changes I feel should be made in the realm? Will you make me an adviser and consider my requests?”
The Daughter’s smile froze, her voice tightening. “Of course.”
A lie. Ember wasn’t skilled in reading people, but this woman was clearly practiced in deception. For one thing, the emperor lived on a planet called Empyrean. Stefan had once shown her a video image of it. Beautiful and grand, the mountainous planet was intended only for the highest of high society, and few knew where it was located. If the Daughter intended to send Ember there, she’d face the highest security in the known universe—and even if she succeeded in assassinating the man, there was no guarantee the Daughter could take the throne. If the emperor really had cut her out of succession, the throne would go to a high commander.
But Ember’s options were limited. She could turn and run, although she wouldn’t get far with the intricate network of tunnels outside, not to mention the boats and miles of poisonous water that lay between her and the shuttle. Even if she managed to get that far, she was no pilot. She was stuck.
It all came down to the fact that Ember intended to use the Daughter just as the Daughter intended to use her. They both wanted the Emperor felled. They simply had different ideas on how to accomplish that. Ember would just have to help this woman see reason before she did anything foolish.
“Those are my terms,” Ember said. “In addition to finding Stefan, of course—the man you said your boarding teams would search for—”
“My information retrieval team already knows about him. Your report was very detailed. They’re adding him to the database as we speak. So we have an agreement, then.”
Very detailed. Union flickers had reached into her past and stolen everything of value from her—her memories, her desires, her feelings. Stefan’s kiss. They knew about Ember’s failures, about every single life she had taken. They knew about her nightmares and her dreams. This had to be what it was like to live as a normal person. No wonder people were so wary of flickers.
She would never leave herself vulnerable like that again.
The Daughter seemed to see the defeat in Ember’s face because she smirked and gestured toward the door. “First training. Then rescue the other flickers. That’s all you need to worry about right now, my darling little grain of sand. I’ll do the rest.”
Ember tightened her lips, cutting off her retort, and turned to leave.
You are not the water directing the sand about, she wanted to say. If anything, it’s the other way around.
Ember had expected the stiff escort from earlier to be waiting for her when she reached the vessel. But to her surprise, Amai stood by the hatch, her shoulders rigid and her expression hard.
“I’ll take you to your quarters myself,” Amai said when Ember reached her. “But whatever happened in there, it’s between you and Her Eminence. Don’t tell me anything.”
“Fine,” Ember muttered, climbing over Amai into the window seat. She’d always known Amai to be fiercely loyal to the Daughter. That loyalty obviously ran very deep. She fastened her lap buckle, watching Amai close the hatch and find her own seat as the driver started the engine. The large series of connected pods soon grew smaller behind them.
Amai sat with her arms folded, glaring out the window. Ember assumed Amai would be happy to return after her months of undercover work. She strai
ned to remember what she’d seen when she’d read Amai so many weeks before. The woman’s rebellious teenage daughter had run away to join the Union a couple years ago, so she had to be here somewhere too. Unless they’d put her on a combat ship at a young age.
Gently, slowly, Ember reached out with her inner light. Amai’s light was heavily shielded, of course, but Ember could sense an intense heat. Anger.
The silence hung heavy for several minutes before Ember dared speak. “Why did you shave your hair?”
The question seemed to startle Amai. “Oh, just preparation to meet my daughter today.”
That didn’t quite answer her question, but Ember let it drop. “And how was the reunion?”
Amai flinched. “She’s made her choices. Now she has to live with the consequences.” She turned to face the window.
Silence it is, then, Ember decided and turned back to the window.
As the escort predicted, Ember’s new quarters were situated in a large round building with several small living compartments. They were the same off-white as the pods, the seaweed brushing up against them with each gentle ocean wave. A guard met them at the door and offered Ember a hand out of the vessel, but she stepped over the gap herself and strode inside.
She passed through the outer door and entered a small hallway. There were four doors here, two on each side and all identical. Amai led her to the second on the left.
“You must always have an escort when you leave,” Amai explained as she unlocked it and stepped aside for Ember to enter. “Just tell the guard where you want to go. He’ll take care of you.”
“Why must I have an escort?” Ember asked, eyeing the darkness beyond the doorway.
Rather than answering, Amai gave her a long, sorrowful look. Ember knew exactly what it meant.
“They know what I did,” she said softly.
“Half our force is in mourning. It’s better to keep you out of sight until things calm down. Until then, this is the safest place for you.” She placed a hand on Ember’s shoulder and practically shoved her inside.