That hard brunette was Tarian, too, Ambrea realized. It was in her facial structure and in her athletic shape. Certainly it was in the rolling depth of her accent. The two of them could try to dress the part of an Allayan civilian all they wanted, but their exotic looks and the strangeness in their eyes were as good as that blaring tribal tattoo on Ender’s chest and arm. He may have since covered it up, but he may as well have not.
“I thank you for your rescue,” Ambrea said softly. “But I’m afraid I can’t oblige you.”
That made the entire camp go quiet and still.
“Excuse me?” Ender barked the politesse at her, making it anything but polite. “Listen, sweetheart, I just risked my ass to get you out of that hole.”
“And as I said, I thank you for your rescue,” she bit back with firmness and as much strength as she could muster. “But if your coup means harming a single hair on my brother’s head, I will not take part in it. I have sworn to myself and to the Great Being that I will abide by the law as it now stands and will recognize him as the true emperor of Allay. I will not now, or ever, start any would-be reign of mine with the bloodshed of any innocent of my line. In that way I will see myself different than all the Allay line before me.”
She watched as he took this in, actually finding herself curious as to how he would react. She really was having a hard time getting a good read on him. One minute he played coarse and brutish, the next cocky and amused, the next quiet and reserved. He seemed to fluctuate between it all as if he didn’t know what to settle on, which face to show.
She wasn’t expecting his eyes to turn genuinely troubled.
“You don’t know, do you? I would have thought that even in prison you’d hear things.” He hesitated, looking to his leader for guidance. The commander nodded briefly and the Tarian squared his shoulders before meeting her gaze.
“Your brother is dead.”
“Eirie!”
Balkin crashed into his rooms, startling the servants who were waiting on the lovely and calm creature in the center of the main salon. Eirie didn’t so much as bat an eyelash, not even when he roared at the servants to be gone or he’d whip them to the bone. When one fell in his haste to make it to the door, Balkin couldn’t seem to stop himself from planting his boot in his ribs in several rapid successive beats. There was something satisfying in the servant’s squeals and pained coughs. Then Balkin picked him up and threw him into the hallway, slamming the door and sealing himself away with his treacherous little witch.
She was eating kio fruits, popping the round, juicy things into her mouth slowly, watching his actions dispassionately. Her long, lush body was lounging out on a chaise, her day dress of lightly draped silk that glistened with platinum threading and a fair violet color that was no doubt going to be all the rage that week. Eirie was proud of her trendsetting ways, of being the one who was followed rather than emulating others. She would rather choke than be seen copying some lesser-ranked woman. Her bare feet were peeking out from the hem of the gown, sparkling platinum toe rings on all but her big toes and an exotic skin-tinting pattern freshly painted in a wreath around her ankle, a line down the length of the top of her foot, and a painstakingly executed tiny flowered pattern all around her toes.
“What have you done?” he demanded of her, marching across the room and flinging things off any table he passed. He was, perhaps, trying to vent his fury enough so that he wouldn’t grab her around her delicate little throat and choke the bloody life out of her when he reached her.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said with a sigh.
“The boy is dead! A healthy, young boy! And mere weeks ago every other word out of your mouth was about poison. Give me good reason to think you didn’t have anything to do with it!”
“I can hardly prove a negative,” she noted with a shrug. “How can I prove I didn’t do something? And really, darling, must you treat the servants so ill? That one won’t be able to stand for days now. And he does such a lovely cross braid.” She touched her hairline where it had been cross-braided in tiny loops and twists.
“I could give a hair on the Great Being’s ass about your cross braids, Eirie! Qua fell ill only two days ago, and he suffered terribly from the moment the ‘illness’ struck him. The doctors are baffled and everyone is looking to me. First the father, then the son so quickly? I am the only one with anything to gain. They will think I plotted this all along!”
“And so what if they think that? What can they do about it?” She leaned forward a little, her eyes flashing with a special sort of avarice. “You will be the only prince of the blood left, Balkin. The only heir to this throne. Benit destroyed all other contenders long, long ago, making the way clear and secure for his idiot child. Even if they could prove that you had a hand in this, there’s nothing they can do. They would have to leave you to rule or else risk turning all of Allay on its ear and screaming for a new government. But,” she said with a smile as she relaxed back again, “they can’t prove any foul play, so it’s no matter.”
“You seem so cocksure about that! With today’s technologies and forensics, no one can get away with something like murder. There is always a trail. Always someone who saw something who can be made to talk.”
“I refuse to entertain all these supposed scenarios of doom and gloom and what may or may not happen.” She stood up and gave a dismissive sniff, tossing back a long, curling lock of her hair. “I prefer to deal in cold, hard facts.” She looked at him, snaring his gaze with hers. “And the fact is, you are the emperor of Allay.”
She turned to face him and, in a rush of swishing silk, she knelt at his feet. She bowed until her forehead touched the toe of his boot, her graceful arms curling around his ankles. Balkin couldn’t help the sudden racing of his heart and the clutch of excitement gripping at his soul. Just the same, he crouched down as she lifted her head, grabbed her by the chin, and gave her a mean little shake.
“And what about that little bitch in my jail? What do you propose I do with the empress of Allay? In truth I have nothing, my pretty love, as long as she is breathing!”
“Kill her. She is not your daughter, your mother, or your sister, and therefore not of your direct blood. There is no law against killing her to secure your throne.”
He laughed coldly. “It’s all so easy for you. You think you can simply discard the entire Allay line and there won’t be repercussions? The IM—”
“The IM can interfere only if there’s a crime against the laws of our country or some kind of mass brutality at your hands. An act of genocide or terrorism. An act of war against another country of Ulrike or any of the Three Worlds. An overthrow of the natural order of government in a given country. But this is the natural order of our government. You are the proper heir by blood and divine right. And as I said, there is no proof of any foul play. Nor will there be. Balkin suffered a massive stroke. His son’s death was an unfortunate fluke. People die for unexplainable reasons all the time.”
Balkin narrowed his eyes on her.
“Tell me. Did you do it? Did you kill the boy?”
She smiled. “If I did, I certainly would not tell you. You cannot be trusted, Balkin. If the IM did begin to investigate you and you felt you were in danger of their justice, you would feed me to them like a bone to a dog in order to escape them.” She reached to stroke warm fingers over his cheek. “You are a strong man. A devious man. A man who knows when fortune is turning in his favor. I know you won’t let this slip away from you.”
“I wouldn’t throw you away like you say,” he said quietly. “I love you, you cunning little harlot. More today than ever before, I promise you. But there is one very large hiccup in all your puppeteering, my love.”
“Oh?” She raised a silvery brow, clearly amused by the notion that she had not thought of every detail.
“The princess has escaped from the catacombs.”
She went still, a hard coldness entering her eyes. “What?” she demanded. “No one h
as ever escaped from the catacombs.”
“True. And at the moment we aren’t sure she actually made it out alive. They’re still sorting through the chaos. She never passed the outer portal, but instead went deeper into the tunnels. Odds are the little idiot drowned herself trying to make an escape. I would normally assume as much, except—”
“What is it?” she wanted to know, her impatience very out of character for her. Eirie did not like to show ruffled feathers. She was always seemingly calm and in control. At least in public.
“Except she had help. They came with explosives and a planned distraction to occupy the guards. Some Tarian brute. A mercenary no doubt. Hired perhaps by Prelate Kitsos or some other powermonger in this court.”
She made an indelicate sound. “In that case I would hardly worry. It sounds as though it was a botched job all around.” Her eyes lit and she smiled. “Actually, this could be very fortunate for us! If she died in an escape attempt, you can hardly be blamed. Oh, how clever. I wish I had thought of it myself. And if she is dead … oh, my great and glorious lord, you are well and truly emperor of all Allay.”
“Dead!” Ambrea felt her entire chest closing in on itself. She had no idea how she was even able to force words and breath out of it. “I just saw him! He was well and healthy and … I just saw him!”
“Two days ago he fell suddenly ill. He was gone by dawn this morning.”
“We suspect he was poisoned,” the Tarian female said in her blunt way, clearly not considering that this was Ambrea’s blood they were talking about. “But your uncle had him decimated. To hide the evidence no doubt. Nothing left to test after a decimation ceremony.”
“My uncle has no claim to the throne as long as I—”
“Be assured, you were next on his list,” Ender informed her dryly. “Lucky for you, the IM was already involved in Allayan affairs, investigating accusations made by some of the nobles that the succession had been made illegally. The fact is, your father’s laws disinheriting you were unjust and illegal under the tenets of the monarchy laid down centuries ago. We had already come up with the plan to liberate you from the catacombs and see the matter fairly arbitrated in an IM court. Once we heard your brother was taken ill, we had to step up the plan. Your uncle is no doubt very hot to announce his ascendancy. The only thing he needed to do was tie up a loose end,” Ender told her. “If you were still in that prison come dusk, I assure you he was going to cut your pretty head off and mount it on the palace gates so everyone would know there was no hope of the long lost princess ever coming to claim her rightful spot as empress.”
“Even my uncle could not be so stupid. Such an act would provoke the IM into declaring martial law over Allay and trying him as a criminal against the rightful ascension.”
“Only there is no one else in line for your throne, Blue Eyes.” Ender gave her a grim smile. “Your father saw to that during his own reign so there wouldn’t be any uprisings against him or his son. To be honest, I have no idea how you stayed alive this long. He was a paranoid son of a bitch.”
“I am well aware of what my father was,” she said sharply to him. “I am also aware that the IM took their bloody time about doing anything to put a stop to him.”
“Your father always skirted IM involvement,” Commander Chapel said. “He knew just how far he could push the envelope of the law. Infanticide would have been crossing the line. Your own tenets say that a ruler can do whatever is necessary to secure the safety of his monarchy, except the murder of direct blood. Meaning his or her own children, siblings, and parents.”
“I didn’t know that,” Ambrea said softly. “All these years, I didn’t know that.” So, it had not been any lingering affection for her or sense of decency that had held Emperor Benit’s hand against his firstborn child. It had been the law and his fear of the ramifications of breaking it. “Still, he could have seen me murdered in a hundred ways that could not be tracked back to him.”
“There’s always a link. Always proof. The IM is exceptionally good at finding proof like that.”
“Are we going to sit here talking about this or are we going to get some distance between us and Balkin’s guards?” Ender asked brusquely. “If we get caught, IM or no IM, it’ll all be over before it begins. Right now it’s all about your life, Blue Eyes. Your life is the only thing standing between your uncle and his direct ascendancy to the throne.”
“What does it matter to the IM which of us ends up on that throne?” Ambrea asked quietly. “For all you know, I’m a monster just like my father.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Ender said. “We’re here to ensure that the rightful heir is safely put in her place.” He gave her a soft sideways look. “But I’m going to take a wild stab and say you are nothing like your father. And Allay could use a bit of that.”
“You have that right,” Suna piped up. “My great lady is a kind and generous person. She would bring fairness and a gentle touch to a nation sorely in need of it.”
“But like Ender said,” Commander Chapel spoke up, “this is all going to be a moot point if Balkin’s guards find her. Let’s get going.”
Ender and Justice hauled a huge fallen tree over the hole, making it invisible. In a few quick actions the campsite looked completely natural and unused. The group rapidly began to move out across the park preserve, all of them falling into a natural sort of protective circle around Ambrea.
“Explain something to me,” Suna asked a while later when the sound of her own breathlessness got on her nerves. She was not cut out for all of this adventure and activity. She was more content to enjoy her mistress’s company, to entertain her with wit and intellect, games and quieter hobbies. The lady Ambrea had never been one for sports, even those that were considered seemly for a woman of royal station, and that had been just fine with Suna. “Why all of this clandestine scrabbling about? Why doesn’t the IM just come into Allay and force the regent to hand over the imperial seat to its rightful mistress?”
“There may come a time for that,” Commander Chapel said.
“But it wouldn’t do much good if the true heir was in his power, at the tip of his knife,” Ender said dryly. “The moment the first soldier set foot in the Allayan presence chamber, the regent could have run into the wet rooms and cut Ambrea’s throat. Then he would actually be the sole surviving and rightful heir to Allay. We had to secure your mistress before anything and everything else.”
“Besides, Suna,” Ambrea said quietly, “would you have all of Allay under martial law?”
“You mean foreign martial law,” Suna scoffed. “Allay has been under martial law for decades. The emperor’s troops are always everywhere. They call themselves a policing force, but what they really are is an army.” Her eyes went wide as a terrible thought filled her head. “What if he won’t abdicate his power? What if he decides to use that army to keep out the IM?”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Ambrea said, although it was clear she wasn’t so sure. “That would make Allay the first country in the Three Worlds to break faith with the IM charter. Oh, Ephemeral Being, he would plunge Allay into a nightmare! War with the Three Worlds? Never mind the bloodshed; the socioeconomic ramifications would be crippling. There would be trade sanctions, the entire continent would be shut down from travel and tourism, and anything that Allay is dependent on from outside its borders would quickly be cut off and the people would suffer for it.”
Like food. Allay was not nearly self-sufficient enough in its farming production to feed its entire population. They were quite dependent on food recombinant technologies. Then again, most places were these days. It was the raw materials and fuels to run those technologies that Allay imported heavily. If the IM imposed sanctions on Allay, those materials and fuels would be denied. They would make the population of Allay miserable, putting Balkin in the position of managing an unruly, angry country. It would force a revolution.
But lives could be lost that way. A great many Allayan lives. By starvation or in battle, p
eople would die.
“I would not see the people of Allay suffer,” Ambrea said softly. Ender scoffed under his breath, but she noted it. “What? You’ve something to say about it?” She didn’t mean to be so rude to this man who had rescued her, but the obvious disapproval in the hard lines of his face rubbed her the wrong way.
“Princess, if you think you can make this omelet without breaking some eggs, you’re in for a world of surprise.”
“Spoken like a true soldier. You’d rather bash and smash and maim and kill your way from point A to point B,” she snapped at him.
“Lady, you’ve got it so wrong,” he bit off at her. “And that doesn’t surprise me in the least. From what I hear, you’ve been raised in a bubble, ignorant of how these worlds really work, of how people really work. In my opinion, you—”
“Arms master,” Chapel cut him off sharply. “We’re not paid to have an opinion. We have a job to do. So let’s do it.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Ender said with a firmness and sincerity that surprised Ambrea, because she got the feeling he wasn’t at all happy about biting his tongue. But he did not behave sullenly or seem to stew. He accepted the order given and continued to march forward. It was so strange to see someone so big and clearly so capable of mastering a situation be so willingly subordinate. In a way she felt a peculiar respect for him. After all, had she not been subordinate all of her life to the wishes of others? She had done so, it could be said, with as much willingness as he was now exhibiting to his superior. In fact it was eerily parallel. She had different opinions, had strong desires contrary to those who controlled her, but she accepted that there was a natural order to things. That there was a price to pay for disrupting that natural order. She had never been willing to put anyone, not even herself, in any kind of danger in some wild bid for her throne.
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