Chapter Four
The Grand Ballroom in Haven’s Royal Palace was a pale shadow of the one in Sandratha, though perhaps that wasn’t saying much. The Darenthi capital had hosted one royal court or another for almost a millennium, after all, so it had a lot of practice. Haven, on the other hand, had been completely rebuilt at least three times in the last century alone, and that made what the designers had accomplished all the more impressive.
Most of the floors were a neatly polished marble, and Empress Malivar had spared no expense covering the three spiraling staircases with gold and jewels. The fountain of Shakissa at the center of the bottom floor was authentic, hauled all the way here by the Sunoan ambassador last year, and the paintings and sculptures decorating the walls represented a wide body of work from every major culture in Esharia. It was a testament to the diversity and opulence of Haven, the great City of Unity.
It was also a lie.
Princess Tryss stood alone leaning against the railing of the lowest balcony, glaring down at the dance floor with barely concealed revulsion. In the final analysis, this place wasn’t any different than the Sandrathan court: almost all of these people were entirely fraudulent. They mingled and danced with partners they didn’t love. Most of the foreign ambassadors wore younger men or women on their arms, many of whom weren’t even from their own country. And all of them engaged in the same mindless small talk as a room full of drunken kreel.
It was all a thinly veiled illusion of social courtesy, behind which was either the simple motive to mate or to improve their social status—or possibly both. As a young girl she had grown up in this world but been mercifully ignorant of its nuances. Then she’d begun her studies, and when she returned to the world of people, she suddenly realized how much she hated it. These were supposed to be the social elite from across Esharia, but she wondered how many of them had ever had a serious thought in their life. How many had actually read the great thinkers of the age like Taksory or Gaulle? How many understood the primal forces of the world that shaped their daily lives?
Tryss sighed and took another sip from her glass of wine. The truth of the matter was that she had been spoiled most of the last eight years of her life, and now it was coming back to haunt her. Sitting in the towers of the Sandrathan academy away from all this nonsense had certainly dulled her tolerance for it. She was definitely going to have to work on building that back up…
“Ah, there she is,” her mother’s voice called over the background din. “President Caldwell and I have been looking all over for you.”
Tryss turned and forced a thin smile. Empress Alassa Malivar looked the same as she always did: tall and regal with long, dyed white hair and a royal gown sparkling with dozens of gems. Tryss had always found her mother’s outfits over-the-top, from the bladed neckpiece that frilled out behind her head to the metallic gloves that crowned the tips of her fingers.
The older man next to the Empress lacked the same regal bearing. His blue and gold outfit looked more like a military dress uniform than something a head of state should be seen in. His dark eyes and pinched cheeks had definitely passed on to his son.
“I was just watching the dancers,” Tryss said.
“You and Aston should be out there,” Caldwell suggested. “I haven’t seen him around.”
“He wanted some time with his friends. I assume he’ll be back later in the evening.”
Caldwell shook his head. “I feel I must apologize for him. He can’t keep living like a bachelor now with such a wonderful bride depending on him.”
“Funny, I’ve been telling her the same thing,” the Empress said, shooting her daughter a meaningful glance. “The people need to see the new couple together.”
Tryss did her best to keep the disgust off her face. “I’m sure we’ll dance once he gets back.”
“Wonderful,” Caldwell said. “That reminds me, my dear, I hear congratulations are in order. Weren’t you offered a Magistrix position at the Haven Academy?”
“I was,” she confirmed. “I haven’t decided if I want to take it or not.”
“Understandable. Raising a family does take a lot of time.”
She knew her face twitched at least a little. “That’s…one consideration.”
“If you don’t mind, Mr. President,” the Empress said, “I’d like a minute alone with my daughter.”
“Certainly,” the man replied smoothly. “The Vakari Ambassador has been eyeing me for a few minutes now anyway.” He nodded politely to each of them in turn. “Your Majesty; Princess.”
Once he was out of earshot her mother turned back to her. “The least you could do is actually talk to some of these people.”
Tryss sighed. “And say what? I don’t know them.”
The Empress closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then presented a forced smile as if she suddenly remembered people were watching. “I don’t understand why you insist on making everything so difficult. You’re going to have to work with these people someday.”
“Isn’t that what Aston is for?”
“Don’t!” her mother snapped with surprising force. She then quickly glanced about to make sure no one heard. “You realize that’s what the Balorites have been arguing for months? They want the people to believe I’m selling us out to the Ebarans. Or do you not listen to anything I tell you?”
“Calm down, you’ll make us look bad,” Tryss muttered sarcastically, leaning back over the railing. She could almost feel the heat radiating from her mother’s face.
“I understand you don’t care about any of this,” the Empress said after a moment, joining her against the railing. “But I hoped you would eventually grow up and realize how important it is. Lives depend upon the choices we make, Tryss. Thousands of them, perhaps tens of thousands. I don’t want to live through another war, and I doubt you do, either.”
Tryss’s stomach tightened. “I don’t want to fight anyone. I just…don’t want to be here.”
“That isn’t your choice to make.” The Empress held her glare for a moment longer, but then her gray eyes finally softened. “Privilege comes with responsibility, whether we like it or not. I’m sorry your brother isn’t able to take this burden from you, but we both clearly understand the threat he represents. The day Kastrius sits on the throne is the day we all suffer.”
Tryss remained silent. She had known this for a long time, of course. Even when they were young her brother had been capricious and cruel, and as he had aged he’d grown ambitious as well. But somehow she had always been able to push that thought to the back of her mind and ignore what it meant for her future. Being insulated at the academy had certainly made it worse—it let her convince herself she could find a life outside of the court.
But it was just a fantasy. Perhaps it always had been.
“I can’t be like you,” Tryss said eventually. “I can’t…deal with all these strangers. I don’t know what to say or how to act.”
“You can learn, and I’m more than willing to teach you.” The Empress placed a hand atop hers. “Right now you should find your fiancé. I know you want to resent him, but you’re going to have to learn to live with him. The Republic needs your help, Tryss—our people need your help. And so do I.”
Tryss nodded silently as she looked out upon the ballroom again. She didn’t see any more authenticity there than she had the first time. “I’ll go and find Aston.”
“Good. I’ll talk to you later, then.”
Her mother let her hand linger a few seconds longer before turning and striding away. Tryss took a minute to finish her drink and walked downstairs. A single glass had already made her a bit tipsy, but perhaps that was for the better. At least it would make dealing with Aston that much easier.
She had nearly reached the east exit when one of the guests stepped in front of her and waved. Short and overweight with a few bits of gray hair combed across his otherwise bald scalp, he wore the ceremonial sash of a Darenthi senator.
A warning bell immediately rang in her head. She knew the man by reputation if not by looks. Veltar was the leading Balorite in the Senate and the treaty’s most outspoken opponent. Her mother might have had the political skill to deal with him, but Tryss did not.
“Actually, Senator, I was hoping to find my fiancé.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, his eyes glittering. “Charming fellow, I hear, if a bit…dull.”
Tryss blinked in surprise. “That’s not a very polite thing to say.”
Veltar shrugged. “The truth rarely is. But you see, that’s something you and I have in common. We’d rather skip the niceties and get right to the heart of the issue.”
She noticed he had conveniently positioned himself so she couldn’t get past without shoving him over or blatantly side-stepping him. She repressed a sigh and instead forced a smile. “Is there something I can help you with?
“Actually, I was hoping we might be able to help each other,” he said. “Neither of us is in a particularly envious position at the moment.”
Tryss glanced around. No one seemed to be paying them much attention. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting, but I’ve made my political positions quite clear.”
“You penned a very intriguing treatise on the use of Faceless during your last two years at the Sandrathan Academy,” Veltar said. “I may disagree with your moral evaluations, but the actual research was quite sound. Whether or not you and I agree on particular points of policy isn’t really the issue—I’m able to take a step back and recognize that you could be a great asset to our people.”
“I’m glad you think so…I guess.”
He chuckled. “You should be. Unfortunately, your mother would rather squander your talents in the Assembly, or use you as a bargaining chip for her own purposes.”
And there it was. Her mother had always warned Tryss to beware of flattery, since it was almost always a prelude to some request or another. She could already see it forming on Veltar’s lips and needed to end it here and now.
“And I’m sure you, on the other hand, have purely noble intentions,” she sneered.
“No,” he said flatly. “What I have is a way for you to escape all of this nonsense and become what you were born to be.”
“How convenient. And what was I born to be, if not the ruler of our people?”
“The preeminent mage in the Republic, of course,” Veltar told her. “Perhaps in all of Esharia.”
Tryss rubbed a hand across the bridge of her nose. “I really don’t have time for this. If you’ll excuse me, Senator…” She started to step past him, but he shuffled to block her path.
“I ask only that you hear me out,” he insisted. “What I’m offering you is freedom, and I want precious little in return.”
“Which is what, exactly?” she asked, hands falling to her hips.
“We live in perilous times, princess. You are a student of history; I’m sure you understand this better than most. You have even written widely about it.”
She wondered if he had actually read her work or merely had someone summarize the key points for him. Not that it really mattered—she was mostly just shocked a politician had gone to the effort to even try. Magi who stayed within the academy were the historians and record-keepers of the Republic, but they were also quite cloistered. Few outside of their own intellectual circles actually read any of their work.
“Kimperan technology threatens to change the nature of war,” she said after a moment. “Even a peasant with one of their rifles could threaten a Faceless.”
“Indeed, and that is just the beginning,” he agreed. “Our very sovereignty as a nation is under attack, and the Empress seems unwilling to accept that.”
“She believes we can no longer afford to remain enemies with our neighbors. She recognizes the threat well enough, I think.”
Veltar smiled thinly. “Do you really believe the Ebarans will honor their treaty? How about the Vakari? You wrote that Ebaran mercantilism is predisposed to war, that a nation of such wild consumption must expand to sustain itself. Once we place one of their nobles on our throne, are we going to be in a position to stop them? How about when our Faceless are dismantled or when our Siphons are released?”
Tryss rubbed at her temple and really wished she hadn’t downed that glass of wine. Clearly Veltar had read her work; he was basically quoting it back at her. She probably shouldn’t have expected less from a man of his reputation.
“You still haven’t told me what you want from me,” she said.
“Unfortunately, it’s not something I can discuss here, not without leaving myself exposed. But what I can say is that I want you to do what you are good at: research. I have a rather specific question I need answered, one that will change the very face of the Republic military.”
“Cryptic,” Tryss muttered.
“But I’m guessing it has piqued your interest,” Veltar said, his smile widening. “If I’m right, I’d like you to meet me tomorrow. There’s an old house on the eastern side of Fandon Park, number thirty-two. I’ll be there at noon if you wish to continue this conversation.”
Tryss bit her lip and glanced up to the rafters. Her mother and President Caldwell were still up there mingling with other diplomats. “You know, there’s nothing stopping me from telling my mother about this right now.”
“You mean tell her that a political opponent is attempting to gain leverage over her?” Veltar asked. “For some reason I doubt she would be surprised. In any case, princess, I bid you good evening. Try to enjoy a dance with your…fiancé.”
With that, Veltar stepped away and left her standing there alone. Tryss paused briefly before peering out the east exit. Aston still wasn’t out there, but that was for the better. She needed some time to think away from prying eyes. At least the Faceless who stood guard outside wouldn’t be analyzing her every move.
She walked over to the spiraling stone incline that encircled the entire building and slowly ascended it. A few guests were up top chatting and sipping drinks, but for the moment, at least, she was largely alone.
Her mind continued to scream warnings in her skull. She couldn’t trust a man like Veltar—that much was certain. It wasn’t that she was afraid of bodily injury; she could defend herself more than adequately. What she was afraid of was his proposal. What if she actually liked it? She had to remember that no matter what he wanted her to do—or how harmless it seemed on the surface—his ultimate goal was to restore the Balorites to power in the Republic.
The question was whether or not she cared. Veltar was right that the Ebarans would almost certainly exploit the treaty at one point or another. Their plutocratic government of merchant lords was insatiable. They might not even use soldiers; it wasn’t really their style, not when they could use coin instead. Their shops and merchants would crop up in cities outside Haven, and soon their values would seep into the very fabric of Darenthi society. Within a generation or two, the Empire would be another Ebaran colony not unlike Vatel or even Limpay, independent only in name. Ultimately their masters would be the merchant cartels and the needs of Ebaran coffers.
Tryss didn’t want to see that happen any more than Veltar did. For all its faults, the Republic was still her home. She didn’t want to rule it at all, and certainly not as an Ebaran colony.
She sighed and shook her head. For the moment, at least, none of this mattered. She needed to find Aston and have a dance with him. Perhaps afterwards she could get drunk enough to have herself excused for the evening. A hangover seemed a small price to pay if it got her away from all these people.
Taking a deep breath, Tryss slowly continued up the stairs.
The Last Goddess Page 8
