Keystone

by Chloe Adler

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Amaya.” Verity smiles.

  I glance back at the rest of the writhing bodies nervously before attempting to smile at Vasily’s twin.

  “The rest of you.” Vasily’s voice cuts through the moans and groans. “Leave us.”

  I hold my breath while the pleasure slaves hurry out. Pleasure slave. My stomach turns at the phrase. When they’re gone, it’s only me, the guards and Wyclef and Tiernan left to witness this family squabble.

  “What is wrong with you?” Katrina huffs. “That was my entertainment.”

  “What’s is wrong with you, sister? This is not the way my empire has ever been run.”

  “Only because you lacked imagination.” Katrina yawns. “Now remove this ridiculous human from my sight.” She flicks her wrist at me.

  Verity drops my hand in shock. Her mouth opens as if to speak but the king cuts her off.

  “Sister,” Vasily growls at Katrina, “you will step down, now that I have returned. It’s clear you’ve let the throne go to your head. Don’t think I haven’t heard how cruel and malevolent you’ve become.”

  Teeth bared, Katrina rises from her throne, batting aside Wyclef and Tiernan. “Over my dead body. You have forsaken your right as ruler. You pushed out your own family, abandoning us to a brutal world so you could let that beast inside our home? I may be a harder ruler than you were, but that’s what is needed. I would never have let Azotar take over Tara.”

  I glance toward the cruel queen and quickly look away again. The guards are all intent on Vasily, no doubt wondering if this smackdown is about to turn violent. Verity’s gaze darts between her siblings, her wringing hands as tight as her features, but she shows no sign of jumping in. Surprisingly, Wyclef and Tiernan aren’t watching at all. They’re sneaking kisses behind the throne’s back. Okay, I guess at least some of the pleasure slaves are willing participants.

  “This is not up for discussion,” snaps Vasily. “You are only on the throne because I was forced from it. But I’m here now. If you’d chosen benevolence, there’d be no discussion. But you have forgotten why we rule. You.” Vasily turns toward the guard closest to him. “Make sure that my woman is well taken care of. Clean clothes, a bath and a comfortable place to lie down.”

  “Yes, sire.” The man steps forward but Katrina holds up a hand.

  “Not so fast. So what if she’s your mate? That means nothing except that I won’t kill her. Why should she receive special treatment? You are nothing to us, Vasily. If you weren’t my brother, I’d kill you myself. And her.” She waves a hand at me. “She is less than nothing. Not a royalist, not even a Taran. Nothing but a lowly, disgusting human. Not fit for a dog’s play toy, let alone your mate.”

  He shoots toward her, closing the space between them. “You do not want to try my patience, sister.”

  She snorts and sits back down on her throne, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “As if I have the time to bother with you.”

  “What do you think, Katrina? Will the men follow you into battle against me?” Vasily crosses his arms over his chest without stepping back from his position.

  “Of course they’ll follow me, brother.” The smile she flashes is chilling. “Who do you think has been feeding them, tending to them, caring for them, caring about them? While you were gone, living a life of ease on Earth, I was busy tending to our people.”

  “Our people?” Vasily rises to his full height and it’s menacing. “Our people are the entire inhabitants of Tara, or have you forgotten?”

  “We were whisked away from Tara, or have you forgotten?”

  “You could have returned at any time.”

  Guards suck in breaths around us and metal clangs as they move from their places.

  “What? Is this true?” Verity cries out.

  “Oh, you never told your people that? Or even Verity, our own sister? What a surprise.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The guards turn to look at each other. Some take a step away from Katrina while others turn their backs on her. A few take an obvious step toward Vasily. Verity stands very still, only her head moves in a disappointed shake.

  Vasily’s nostrils flare. “You are relieved of your duties, Katrina.”

  “By you and what army?” she snarls.

  “Yours.” He waves a hand toward her, and the knights advance. Wyclef and Tiernan practically run out of the room.

  She digs her heels in, despite being barefoot, and leans back in the throne.

  “Why don’t you just go willingly, Katrina?” Verity says. “I love you because you’re my sister, but you’ve been a harsh ruler. A sick ruler. And you’ve been lying to all of us for years. How could you?”

  Katrina snorts. “It was for your own good. You’ve always been a bleeding heart, Vee. If I told you, I’d never have heard the end of it. After a year you’d have convinced all the royalists that it was safe to return, and then what? They’d be dead, or worse, living in a nightmare of that disgusting thing’s making for the rest of their days.”

  “And what do you think we’re living in now?” screams Verity. “Guards, listen to your king.”

  I watch in horrified amusement as two knights physically lift Katrina off the throne.

  “Unhand me!” she wails. “I am your queen. I will kill you all!”

  They carry her out the front entrance and Verity follows, pausing to look back at Vasily. “I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

  He nods. “Thank you.”

  Then my man lowers himself down upon the throne. The remaining knights get down on one knee to bow low before him, their metal armor clinking in the portentous silence. “Grayson.” He motions for one to stand. “Gather the rest of the citizens and bring everyone here.”

  He files out and Vasily motions for me. I shuffle over with my head down, suddenly timid amid his obvious rule. “Amaya.” He reaches out, wrapping his hands around me and pulling me down into his lap. I perch there stiff and wooden, but he rests me against his chest, caressing my neck. I pivot to meet his gaze.

  “I’m so sorry for what my sister did to you.” He picks up my hands and looks at my broken nails, curling his fingers around them. “If I could have stopped her at once, I would have. Do you understand that?”

  I nod, blinking rapidly, then shake my head. My head understands. There were too many guards to fight off, and there were too many unknowns about the situation for Vasily to negotiate. But my heart can’t stop thinking about him letting them take me away.

  “I needed time to understand what’s been happening here on Juna, reconnect with some allies who could tell me why our people are in such disarray. If I had tried to stop the guards from taking you, we’d have both been killed.”

  “I can see that.” I sniffle.

  He cups my chin and brings his lips down to cover mine. My arms wrap around his neck and he pulls me in for a tight embrace, running kisses up and down my face and neck.

  Someone clears their throat and we look up. It’s Grayson. His visor is up and he stands to the side of the entrance, holding guard as the others pile in. There are two dozen knights but also women and children. Soon the large room is full to capacity, everyone talking in hushed tones.

  “Denizens,” Vasily addresses them, “I have returned.”

  He waits for a moment while some murmur and others cheer. Unlike the guards and servers who attended Katrina moments before, most of the royalists look like they need a good bath. All look like they need a change of clothing. They are tired and dirty, as though they’ve lived in this godforsaken place without a proper meal for far too long. There are all ages too, from infants to ancients, and all shapes, sizes and colors. From tall to short, from black to white, from lovely to plain. What unites them all is their happiness to see Vasily.

  “This is my life mate.” He pushes at me and I stutter to my feet, but he clasps his hand in mine and rises to stand beside me, all elegance and dignity. “Her name is Amaya and you will treat her as you would an
yone in the royal family.”

  He waits and the entire congregation goes down on one knee before me, their heads bent. Ick. I do not want anyone subjugating themselves to me. I tap Vasily on the arm and quickly shake my head.

  “Please rise.”

  They do and he returns to the throne, pulling me down in his lap again.

  “The first thing I want to say is how happy I am to see you all. I’ve been gone for far too long, and though I haven’t been here to see your children being born, to witness the unification of couples or to give my condolences over the deaths of loved ones, there hasn’t been a day when I haven’t though of you. I may not have been present, but you’ve all remained securely in my heart.

  The crowd chants in unison, “Long live the king.”

  He waits, wearing a broad smile, until they quiet again. “There will be some changes in our future. I’d like to return us all to Tara and, eventually, work toward becoming a commonwealth plane.”

  A small, elderly woman steps forward, clearing her throat. “When can we return to Tara? Is the beast gone?”

  “Not yet but I’m working on that, along with the rest of Tara’s peoples.”

  The crowd cheers.

  Vasily waits until everyone stops. “I know it will take some getting used to, but I’d like to implement the first change now. No more knee bending. We will work toward equality, the royals and royalists alike.”

  “What does that mean?” a man in threadbare clothing asks.

  “It means that when we get back to Tara, Verity and myself will make sure everyone has a roof over their heads, food and clothing. We will work as a collective community, helping each other achieve what’s needed for basic survival. Once we’ve retaken our place on Tara, no one will have more riches than the next.”

  The people break into chatter, everyone asking questions at once.

  Vasily holds up a hand. The rumbling stops. “Please approach and speak your concerns to me. I will explain everything in due course, but there is time yet for discussion. We aren’t returning to Tara just yet. Over the next few days, you’re to gather your things and prepare for our return.”

  Our return. The words are so triumphant, coming out of Vasily’s mouth. As if he’s finally getting the one thing he’s yearned for and worked toward for years. And of course, he is. So why do the words fill me with dread?

  While I’m proud that my man is doing exactly what I would have wished him to do, realization slams into me about what this truly means. For us. In order for him to serve his people, to free them, to usher them into a new, better world, I will have to give him up. He belongs to Tara, but I have my whole life on Earth. My family, my friends. My singing. I’ve only been to Tara a handful of times, yet every return to Earth brought so much upheaval—losing time, losing my job. The whole thing brings a new, terrible meaning to the term “long-distance relationship.” No, that won’t work. Why didn’t I ever realize before what returning Vasily to Tara would mean? My heart aches, a pain so hot and sharp that I wonder if he, too, can feel it.

  I look between his face and those of his followers. No, my man is caught up in the moment, in his kingly role, and his followers are in paroxysms of joy.

  I have no right to take that from him, or him from them. He has to deal with too much right now. I can’t add my own fears of saying goodbye to him on top of all that he has to shoulder. I clench my eyes shut and chew on my lip to keep from shouting at him. I want to scream, Think about me. About us. About all of us! My relationship with the warlocks can’t survive losing its anchor, can it? Maybe in a few years, after he’s initiated the changes in Tara, he can return to me. To us. But with the time difference, a few years in Tara would be my lifetime on Earth. A sob escapes and Vasily turns back to me.

  “What’s wrong?” His voice is laced with fright. For me. For the pain I’m trying, unsuccessfully, to hide.

  And it’s in this moment that I know. If I tell him the truth, if I voice my concerns about losing him forever, he might change his mind. He would probably come back with me, leave with me, at the cost of all of these lives. The lives of his people. I can’t be the one to take this away from him. If he left his people for me, he’d grow to resent me. It would drive a wedge, bigger than the planes of Tara and Juna combined, between us. Forever. Plus, I’d be relegating an entire race of people to a lifetime of misery. I can’t do that.

  What I can do is suck it up and force a smile.

  “Nothing, I’m fine. I’m just so happy for you and your people.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time Verity returns, Vasily has hugged dozens of people, congratulated them personally on their achievements and addressed many of their concerns. As soon as she enters though, the entire group drops to one knee. Age-old habits die hard.

  “Please, get up.” Verity enters and stands with her back to the doorway. “I am still sister to the king, yes, but didn’t Vasily explain that we will all practice treating each other with equality?”

  The crowd murmurs its grumbling assent.

  “But what does that mean?” asks a woman whose clothes are full of holes and stains.

  “Eventually,” Vasily steps next to his sister, “it is our hope that you will govern yourselves. We will transition into a democracy. It won’t be immediate or seamless, but as soon as we’re all settled, I’d like to form a council to aid in the shift.”

  A little girl dressed all in white with pigtails steps forward. “What’s a deemo-crissy?”

  “It’s a way of living that Vasily’s learned from Earth.” Verity smiles down at the child, and next to her, Vasily drops to one knee, reaching for the girl’s hand.

  Everyone gasps. “The king is bending a knee to Maeggi.”

  The little girl shies away, hiding in the folds of Verity’s robe.

  “This will be our new world,” he says, looking up at Verity and smiling.

  My heart ripples and clenches inside my chest. This is good, Amaya. This is what you want for his kingdom, for his people, for him. But if that’s true than why does it hurt so fucking bad?

  “How will there be order?” The little girl’s mother steps out of the crowd, trying to shoo her daughter away, but Maeggi shrugs her off and burrows deeper into Verity’s side. But she looks up at Vasily, curiosity apparently overcoming fear of a stranger.

  “May I pick up your daughter?” the king asks.

  The mother bows her head and steps back into the crowd.

  “Verbal consent, please. I respect your wishes, whatever they may be.”

  The mother’s mouth opens and closes, then opens again as though she’s trying to wrap it around the idea that she has a choice in this matter. “Please, Your Majesty. Yes, you may pick her up.”

  Maeggi smiles and reaches tentatively up to Vasily, who picks her up and swings her in the air. She giggles, reaching over to Verity, who smiles as Vasily swings the tyke over to her. Verity spins in circles, clutching the girl to her chest, and Maeggi screams in delight. When Verity stops spinning, Vasily leans in and whispers something in her ear. She nods once.

  Vasily turns to me. “Verity’s got this for a few minutes. Are you ready to go?”

  No. “Yes, but how do I get back to Earth?”

  He flashes me a mischievous grin, takes my hand, and we turn away.

  “Wait,” a woman calls out. “Where are you going, Your Majesty?”

  Vasily turns back but Verity clears her throat and puts Maeggi down.

  “The king is taking his mate back to Earth.”

  The crowd buzzes and I catch several people’s shocked voices. They didn’t realize I came from Earth?

  “You’re not going too, are you?” Maeggi’s tiny face is turned up at Verity.

  “No,” Vasily says. “Verity is staying, and I’ll be back in a short while.”

  “So are you telling us that this woman, your mate, is an Earthling?” asks Maeggi’s mother.

  “She is.” Vasily puts an arm around my shoulder.
>
  “An Earthling is as far below a royalist as a cockroach,” snorts another.

  Others grumble in agreement.

  “That true,” says a man. “She’s nothing.”

  “Not even a Taran,” cries another.

  Vasily holds up a hand. “I don’t expect anyone to understand, but I do insist on respect. Amaya is a human from Earth, yes—”

  The congregation complains loudly.

  “Not fit for a king.” One man steps forward.

  “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that my chosen mate is just that, my choice. Now either you will treat her with respect or—”

  “Or what?” a woman asks. “We have as much right to our opinions as you have to yours in this new world you expect to create. No?”

  “Yes, this is true,” Vasily concedes. “Especially in a democracy.”

  “Well then,” a woman sniffs. “We don’t accept it.”

  He puts a hand on Verity’s shoulder and pulls her close. “Can you keep them from mutiny for a bit?”

  Her lips form a tight line. “I can try, but don’t be long.”

  “I won’t be,” he whispers before turning back to the crowd, who is shifting and griping. “I’ll be back in less than thirty minutes to address your questions and concerns.” Without waiting for a response, he grabs my hand, tugging me around the mountain after him.

  “What is wrong with them?”

  He stops and turns to face me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Sweetheart, these are precarious times. I’m asking my people to change in ways they couldn’t have fathomed, and on top of that I’m asking them to accept you as my mate, someone they feel is beneath them.”

  “But . . . you’re the boss, can’t you just tell them what’s what?” I put my hands on my hips. Why is this bothering me so much? Aren’t I walking away soon? And yet, their refusal to even entertain me as Vasily’s mate isn’t something I can ignore.