Dark Reign

by Rachel Jonas

  As I stared at the image now, I noted how the contrast of dark stubble against his pale skin highlighted his cheekbones and broad jawline. I breathed deep, imagining the melodic lilt of the thick, English accent rolling off his tongue. Just like I observed during several interviews he’d given.

  I’d done it again, had gotten distracted from the newscast.

  ‘The next twelve months will be quite the whirlwind for our princes, Natalie.’

  ‘I’ll say. They’ll be assigned their very own team of experts tasked with the job of grooming them for their upcoming roles. There will also be a frenzy of social events and travel engagements to better acquaint themselves with foreign dignitaries. Hopefully, we’ll get a small glimpse of Julian’s political prowess during tonight’s Address.’

  The pair flashed one another loaded glances. ‘Well, it sounds like the Lydian Dynasty’s most eligible bachelors just upped the ante, ladies.’

  “Ugh … can we turn it off now?” Alex begged. “How can the dead be considered the most eligible anything?” Shameless, he laughed at his own joke.

  “Technically,” Liv chimed in after him. “They’re not dead. Can’t be dead if you have a heartbeat—even a slow, infrequent one like theirs. And let’s not forget the whole reproduction thing. By definition, a biologically dead specimen shouldn’t be able to do that.”

  “Whoa, Liv! Zip up your pants!” I added with a laugh. “Your genius is hanging out.”

  “They’re freezing to the touch,” Alex cut in again, continuing his argument with one word. “Dead.”

  For this answer, Liv donned a menacing smile. “That’s because of the afore mentioned slow heartrate. Besides, that whole … always-freezing-to-the-touch thing isn’t completely true, my dear friend. It’s common knowledge among those of us who don’t walk with our knuckles dragging the ground, that when Ianites are stimulated to extremes—emotional … physical,” she added with a suggestive bounce to her brow, “they’re warm. So, try again, lame.”

  She grinned, having knocked down another of Alex’s theories.

  He stood, a habit of his when he thought he was about to make a good point. “If you don’t eat, don’t need sleep, I don’t care what anyone says … you’re dead. A corpse walking.”

  “And I’ll have to correct you again,” Liv said with a smile. “They do eat. You know this. In fact, there are several markets popping up all over, and I assure you, they aren’t there to feed any of us.”

  “Scarfing down human food as a gluttonous delicacy doesn’t count,” Alex argued. “The bottom line is they wouldn’t die if they didn’t get their cookie fix or a slice of sweet Aunt Margaret’s homemade, blueberry pie. They would, however, become little more than fertilizer in snazzy clothes if they didn’t get blood. So, I rest my case. They’re dead,” he reiterated.

  When he proceeded to dance in Liv’s face, she gave up, muttering a frustrated, “Why do I even bother?”

  “Shh, shh, shh!” The frantic sound came from Shay, and as she moved toward the screen to increase the volume, we all quieted down.

  ‘The commonality between those affected by the latest outbreak of the sickness has been narrowed down to one particular blood source. Unlike the other cases, which typically involve human males who have willingly injected themselves with contaminated blood, authorities have gone on record stating that this new case stems from blood drawn on lot number 001, from the offspring of a sow identified as HIN-190487.’

  We all glanced around, meeting one another’s gazes as we processed the reporter’s update. She was right. All cases before this were linked back to human men who’d willingly sacrificed their lives, infecting themselves with an illness fatal to both humans and Ianites. To date, tens of thousands had been affected, killed by what Ianite officials had deemed an act of biological terrorism.

  However, if you ask me, this thinking was incredibly flawed. The real terrorists were the ones being targeted, not those hoping to even the playing field for future generations of humans by taking out a chunk of the Ianite population.

  But now … to hear that this latest case didn’t seem to line up with the others, we were all intrigued.

  I wasn’t surprised to see Liv’s pencil just about starting a fire on that notepad again.

  ‘Nine Ianite deaths have already been confirmed just in the last forty-eight-hours, with a staggering thirty receiving medical treatment as we speak,” Catherine added. ‘The donor is the first offspring of HIN-190487 and it’s been reported that, upon this discovery, both subjects were immediately rushed to the Simon Tine Facility for testing and further investigation.’

  Felix and Liv turned my way at the same time.

  “We have to get on this,” Felix spoke first, probably only beating Liv to the punch by a narrow margin. “We … I’ve never heard anything like it before. If it’s true that this woman and her kid are infected, and still living after having passed the sickness on to Ianites … that means they’ve done it. Whoever’s behind this has figured out a way to sneak the illness into the Ianite blood supply without killing the host.”

  He could hardly get the words out as he rushed around in search of his laptop. Finding it beneath a pile of papers and soda cans, he plopped down into a seat, and as he booted it up, the pale-gray glow illuminated his face.

  “We need to know how HIN-190487’s tainted lot made it past quality control, how long it took the blood to affect the ones who consumed it.” Liv was pacing, raking her fingers through her cropped hair.

  “This is huge! Do you really think someone would let info like that slip through the cracks?” Banks directed the rhetorical question toward Liv as he pulled up a seat beside Felix, still pecking away at his keyboard.

  “I’ll admit it’s not likely, but there’s gotta be a way to find out more. We need that info, need to know what they’re not telling the general public,” Liv concluded, stating what we all knew already—that they were definitely withholding something.

  “We need ears.” The hustle and bustle that exploded around me suddenly stopped with Jonesy’s epiphany. “We have to get close to the ones with the info; someone’s gonna have to get it firsthand.”

  “The Quincentennial Gala!” Shay blurted.

  O.C. pointed at her, as if suddenly having the same thought. “It’s in a few days and I’m willing to bet Clifford Vol, head of the Simon Tine Facility, will be there, hoping to schmooze with the attending emperors.”

  Alex stood again, this time wearing an expectant grin. “Well, I’d look mighty dapper in a tux, if I do say so myself.”

  “You do say so yourself, because no one else says it,” Liv quipped. “But if you’re suggesting that we send you in, it’s a no-go.”

  A frown sent Alex’s thick brow jutting south. “Why not?”

  Liv shot him an incredulous look. “Because, Boy Wonder, your mug is the only one they’ve actually got on record. As far as they’re concerned, you’re a terrorist and, because we live in the Capitol with their beloved Presiding Emperor,” she added mockingly, “I can guarantee the sentinel presence will be tripled to watch over the royal family. I’d be surprised if it took ten minutes for one of them to make you.”

  Liv was right.

  “It has to be Cori.”

  Banks blurted his opinion, and all eyes shifted toward him. Mine included. When he hesitated to go on, I guessed he knew it was probably stupid to suggest, seeing as how last night’s close call was still fresh in everyone’s minds.

  “We need someone to chat up this Vol guy, right?” he asked. “If he’s anything like the rest of the male Ianite population, he’s got an affinity for women—the prettier the better. Of our three girls—Shay, Liv, and Cori—two aren’t accustomed to that side of things at all. They’d stick out like sore thumbs in the field,” he reasoned. “The Ianite world functions differently than ours, so you can’t watch a few news broadcasts and grasp it all, move through their world without getting noticed.”

  His gaze shifted to me an
d the look was almost sympathetic. “So … it has to be Cori,” he repeated.

  I’d been at this a while, even before the torch had suddenly been handed down to me after my parents passed. But in recent years, our mission had put me in some strange positions. For instance, our contact for transport candidates was a burly Ianite by the name of Spencer who cooperated in exchange for a sizable fee. Then, there were the races. I’d mastered how to be among them without being among them. No one else on our team could say that. In fact, several had never even looked an Ianite in the eyes, had never felt the sting of fear knowing that, at any moment, that perfect face could morph into something grotesque—contorted, like an image straight out of a nightmare.

  Banks was absolutely right.

  It had to be me.

  Those same gazes that had just been locked on Banks were now trained on me, and although no one spoke, the plan was already beginning to take shape. I didn’t like this idea, didn’t like knowing this event would bring all the Dynasty’s heavy hitters into one room, but it was the best shot we had.

  In a few days, I’d walk among the elite, the very ones who sought to bring down my team, our entire operation.

  I was getting ready to enter the lion’s den … and there was absolutely no way around it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Julian

  “Another donor’s gone missing, Emperor Westower.”

  My father lifted his head when William, his most trusted aide, whispered the information. I knew word would eventually reach him, hence the reason I didn’t bother trying to run interference.

  “And you’re telling me this now? Minutes before I go on camera?” he scoffed. “I stay away from all electronic devices the day of the Address for a reason, Will. So little gems like this don’t muck up my thoughts.”

  Father’s gaze shifted, no longer fixed on the large, polished podium centerstage where he’d soon give his speech.

  “My apologies, Sir. I thought it’d be best to bring you up to speed. I know it’s become the Dynasty’s expectation that the latter portion of your speech be ‘off the cuff’.”

  There was an air of flattery in William’s tone, stroking my father’s ego by reminding him how the people had taken to this trend in recent years. Seeing him venture from behind his post, he deviated from the carefully written prose drafted weeks in advance. It made him relatable.

  “Speaking to the immediate concerns of the nation by addressing this fresh topic might be a nice touch, Your Highness,” William added with a pleading expression.

  I looked away. Had to. It was never comfortable watching another man grovel. Entertaining, maybe, but uncomfortable nonetheless.

  Father exhaled sharply. “Give me the details.”

  William piped up. “One donor. Female. Age six. Sources say she was snatched right from her room, kicking and screaming, begging for help as the savages stole her from the comfort of her own bed. It’s likely she’ll be dead within a week if we’re unable to locate her.”

  “Of course she will be.” A long, frustrated breath left my father’s mouth. “I don’t know what these swine aim to prove. They lack the means to care for the property they steal, so why bother? While they may feel they’re saving them from something, they’re essentially sentencing their own people to death—from exposure, starvation. At least in our care, their basic needs are met in exchange for services rendered.”

  I continued to listen but scanned the elaborate accommodations while the conversation continued. Following the speech, there were always refreshments backstage. Hanging above tables of expensive wine, caviar, and a rare selection of blood imported from halfway around the world, there was signage in our nations colors—red and white—boasting our family name in bold letters.

  I tuned into a news broadcast as I was driven here this evening. It touched on my announcement that I’d accepted my birthright to serve as the next Presiding Emperor. The reporters expressed how excited the people were to hear that the Westower legacy would continue with my reign, but they had no way of knowing the decision had been bittersweet. It was a choice to give up some of myself, nearly all rights to privacy, the right to choose my own path, but I’d come to terms with it soon enough. My parents assured me of that.

  Just the other day, Mother hinted toward certain social demands the people placed on whomever bore the crown, expectations she cautioned me and the others to heed if we intended to stay in the people’s good graces. For starters, having wives was not only required, it would apparently make us all appear more stable, would show we intended to one day produce heirs to follow our lead. However, I dismissed the notion quickly, appeasing her with a kiss to the cheek and a reminder that my tight schedule left little time to scour the Earth for ‘the one’.

  The traditionalism was stifling.

  “How did they escape? Do we have any further evidence of their immunity to compulsion?” were my father’s next questions to William, and I gave their conversation my full attention once again.

  “According to the responding sentinels, the offender entered and exited through a window. And as far as the compulsion, there was no one on the staff from the North Quadrant to test the theory, but it wouldn’t have mattered,” William concluded. “From the rendition of the story I was told, no one even got close enough to the intruder to try.”

  Frustration marked my father’s expression. “Make a note, from this point forward, all facilities are required to have at least one Ianite on site from all four quadrants. With our combined abilities, the chances of capturing these thieves can only increase.”

  “Understood,” William replied.

  “And I’ll just assume there’s no footage to prove it wasn’t … her?” was my father’s next question.

  Without mentioning the name Blackbird, I knew she was the ‘her’ to which he referred. The only ‘her’ I’d known to get so deep under his skin, that he often let his trademarked imperturbable demeanor slip just at the thought of what she cost him—credibility, some measure of the people’s trust.

  “If we can prove this was the work of someone else,” he continued, “it would be a step in the right direction. The media doesn’t realize the power they’ve given that menace. Every time fingers point toward her, crediting her with any and all successful heists, it undermines our authority, making it appear that we’re repeatedly outsmarted by this … child.”

  It was less a matter of appearances, and more a matter of fact. Blackbird had successfully executed numerous heists, and had evaded capture. But I wasn’t going to point that out to him.

  Nervous, William swallowed audibly, and I hid my smirk.

  “Well, Your Highness, there’s been no evidence to prove or disprove her involvement, but I’m sure I can dig something up if you’d like.”

  My father exhaled, shaking his head dismissively. “That won’t be necessary. There are enough positives to offset the negatives, I suppose. All in all, tonight’s presentation should be well-balanced, a healthy blend of optimism and realism.”

  William nodded in agreement. “Most definitely. I imagine the stipend increase alone will earn you high marks, sir.”

  “I’m sure.”

  The hard expression my father donned at the mention of the stipend said more than the short response he uttered.

  As his self-professed confidant, there were certain concerns he shared with me in private, thoughts he’d never disclose to another. For example, I knew the increased stipend had little to do with a sudden spike of generosity. It was an attempt to remedy a recent surge in Ianite births in the last few years.

  The Stipend Initiative was enacted around the fifteenth year of Dr. Percival’s Hierarchy Reform Campaign. The ability for Ianites to live forever created an issue where overpopulation was concerned. To delay, or possibly eliminate, the inevitable global shortage of resources, he proposed offering a sizable, yearly stipend for those who swore to refrain from reproduction. The flaw in this theory was that, now, a large number of them were
wealthy, so the stipend was merely a drop in the bucket.

  For the most part, the initiative had been a great success. The monarchy had only ever seen the need for small increases over the centuries. However, three of the five increases had taken place during the last fifty years of my father’s reign. In his eyes, this was yet another blemish on his legacy, one he sought to end by offering an unprecedented hike, with hopes of appealing to a greater mass of the population.

  The hint of familiar perfume alerted me to my mother’s arrival before my gaze landed on her, a vision of loveliness as always. Her wrist sparkled when the overhead lights danced over a diamond bracelet I didn’t recognize, another of my father’s expensive gifts, I presumed.

  She pressed a kiss to both my cheeks, careful not to smudge her lipstick. Nestled into her elaborate, signature updo sat a dainty, onyx tiara. Had it not been for the red rubies mounted in the arches, it might have blended into the inky blackness of her hair completely.

  “Good evening, Mother,” I greeted, taking her hand as I offered a shallow bow.

  A warm smile passed over me, but she didn’t get the chance to respond when a chipper voice swooped in from the left.

  “Three minutes, Your Highness.”

  The warning had come from another aide, Jenna. She kept a brisk pace while carefully balancing a flawless crown atop a velvet pillow. It matched my mothers in style, but dwarfed it in size. It, too, was adorned with red gemstones, glistening like new after a fresh polish.

  William made quick work of lifting the piece to my father’s head, placing it gingerly before adjusting an earpiece small enough that it would go undetected to the audience, and those watching from home.

  My stare lingered on Jenna a moment, not thinking anything in particular about her, but Mother noticed the look before I’d been able to turn away.

  The smile she wore turned cynical.

  “See something you like?” she asked, turning away just as I rolled my eyes.

  “Let’s not do this today, Mother. Not here,” I sighed.