by Wren Weston
Lila sat down in her crimson chair, eyeing the women around her. Their ages spanned from twenty-five to seventy. All but three were matrons, clad in their silvercoats. The others wore whitecoats, the primes attached the New Bristol council because their matrons had been elevated to the Saxony High Council, just like Lila’s mother.
Lila enjoyed wearing her blackcoat in the council room. It kept the other women on edge, knowing that she had the authority to arrest them. It also kept them confused about the exact rank of the Randolph heirs, since tradition dictated that Lila should not even be on the council if she was no longer prime.
Confusion and nervousness were good things sometimes.
In any case, it kept her amused enough to get through the meetings.
She grabbed the folder before her and peeked at the typed agenda, noting the first few items dealt with legislation passed by the Low and High Senates in the last week. The Randolphs had no issues with them, for they were all trifles. A building renamed, a memorial planned. Everything substantial had already been debated and passed earlier in the legislative session: the budget, next year’s educational standards, new health concerns, environmental regulations, and transportation initiatives. The last two months of the session tended to be nothing but pomp.
Lila’s gaze dropped to the last three items.
4. Review Celeste Wilson’s conviction by both chambers of the senate.
5. Review Patrick Wilson’s conviction by both chambers of the senate.
6. Nominate a new family to ascend to the New Bristol highborn.
Alex entered the room as Lila finished reading, her heels clicking across the chambers. She’d borrowed Lila’s shoes and hadn’t even asked. She stopped behind Lila, surveying the rest of the room with the proud scowl she’d worn all week long.
“Chief Randolph,” Chairwoman Weberly said, her eyes straying to Alex. “I see you’ve brought a guest to visit with the council before we begin. We should drink to old times before we get down to business. Perhaps President Holguín has a spare bottle of Sangre?”
Lila didn’t rise to the bait. Hardly older than Lila, Johanna Weberly had only recently succeeded her newly retired mother. She was still drunk with power, still prodding where she shouldn’t. “You know why she’s here, madam. Ms. Wilson will stay for the duration. Her mother and brother are to be condemned today. The least we can do is let her witness it.”
“No, the least we can do is kick her out of the chambers,” Johanna muttered, her gaze meeting the face of each whitecoat and silvercoat in the room, contemplating her next move.
None of the women joined her cause, not even Élise Holguín, prime of the Holguín family, president of Holguín Enterprises, chair of the New Bristol Council, and Johanna’s usual ally.
The table’s reluctance wasn’t much of surprise. The other judges rarely engaged Lila directly at the best of times, for Lila rarely spoke up in council. Whenever Lila did voice a position, they knew she meant it and that it was important to her, the Randolphs, or their allies. They were usually too cautious of her position to protest merely for the sake of protesting.
In any case, these weren’t the best of times. For all anyone knew, Lila had just masterminded the Wilson sting out of nothing more than impatience. Everyone in the room probably had information they didn’t want Lila to seek out.
Johanna sniffled and adjusted her silvercoat. “This is most irregular.”
“No, it’s not. Heirs of a fallen house have a habit of barging into senate and council deliberations. The only thing not typical this time is that we only have one.”
Élise sat up primly, taking over her role as head of the council, and banged her gavel on its sounding block. “Let’s begin, shall we? Perhaps we should start with agenda items four and five so that Ms. Wilson will not be overburdened?”
The judges picked through the files of Celeste and Patrick Wilson, reviewing Bullstow’s position as well the position of the defendant’s lawyers. They couldn’t decide guilt or innocence, but they could judge whether or not all the evidence had been considered, if the punishment fit the crime, if the judgment should be returned to the senate chambers for further review. But Bullstow had been diligent in their paperwork and more than fair to both of the accused. Since they’d only been charged with treason for doing business with citizens of the empire, there was no penalty the state could levy except death.
A screen descended from the ceiling. The women watched an abridged version of the Wilsons’ interrogations. Lila recoiled when Patrick turned to the double-sided glass, suspecting that she had been the one behind Shaw’s questions.
Alex suspected it too, murmuring several choice words. Someone must have shown her the tape. Even now, she chose to blame Lila for their mistakes.
Or perhaps just Patrick’s.
Perhaps he’d always be a little boy to her, a boy who’d been led by their mother and wronged by Lila. A scapegoat, rather than a co-conspirator. A fool, rather than a murderer.
Just like Lila had trouble seeing Shiloh as a father and senator.
“The House of the Golden Serpent has fallen,” Élise proclaimed after the screen darkened and rose back into the ceiling. “Celeste and Patrick Wilson have both confessed to treason. Celeste, under the truth serum, and Patrick, of his own free will and in the presence of his advocate and Chief Shaw. A special council of the High Senate and Low Senate each ruled to convict. After viewing the interrogation, I see no reason why we should overturn their decision. Would anyone like to speak before we vote?”
“You’re damn right I wish to speak,” Alex snapped before anyone else had a chance to say a word. She grabbed a file before Lila and waved it in the air. “My brother wouldn’t do any of this. You know him. You’ve been to parties with him. You’ve worked with him. A few of you or your daughters have even slept with him. How could you even think he’d be mixed up in—”
“Bedrooms do not make boardrooms,” Chairwoman Grace Masson gently reminded her.
“My mother made him do this, and you know it. You can’t execute him for being easily led. He doesn’t have the sense for any of this. Put him in the auction house if you must, but don’t condemn an innocent man to death.” It wasn’t pleading that entered Alex’s voice. It was rage. Pure rage directed at every woman in the room who still had power she did not, the power to rule, the power to kill her brother with a simple vote. If she were still prime, several of the women might have hid under the table.
Élise swallowed hard and lifted her gavel. “Chief Randolph, rein in your pet, or we’ll be forced to have the militia escort her out.”
“She’s neither a pet nor a child. She’s a grown woman who used to stand among us not so long ago. Show her some damn respect.”
“You go too far,” Johanna growled. “I think Ms. Wilson has said enough for one evening.”
Lila swiveled her chair and faced her old friend. “Ms. Wilson, if you have anything, anything at all to corroborate your claims, to prove that your brother was led, to prove that he didn’t have the sense to make these decisions for himself, then speak now.”
“You know him,” Alex said, fumbling.
“I thought I knew him. He admitted to all charges.”
“Not under the serum.”
“Would that satisfy you?”
“Yes.”
Lila considered her agreement, considered how she might talk Shaw into giving Patrick the serum and sneaking Alex inside the holding cells to witness it.
But Shaw would never go for it. Bullstow had already gotten a confession.
Chairwoman Masson gave Alex a pitying look. “Your brother must agree to the serum, Ms. Wilson. He did not. No sane person would, given the side effects. Chief Shaw cannot force it on a person just because the accused’s sister cannot—”
Alex slammed the file on the table.
Everyone winced at
the loud slap.
“Ms. Wilson,” Lila began, “unless you have some piece of evidence to present to us, then I’m afraid there is nothing we can do to stop this. He made his decisions. Now he has to face the consequences, as do you. I ask again, do you have any evidence to present to this council?”
“Chief,” Johanna hissed. “The time for evidence has passed. This is most irregular.”
“No, what would be most irregular is if a militia chief tossed a chairwoman out the window.”
The women gasped, and Johanna’s eyes dropped to the recorder in the middle of the table. “You would dare threaten me?”
“Johanna, shut up,” Lila replied tiredly, spinning once more in her chair. “Ms. Wilson, help us help you. We have Patrick’s confession. How do you counter that?”
“It’s just the boastings of a young boy. A boy who was angry because his sister was wronged. A boy who was confused by his mother.”
“He’s a twenty-three-year-old man. That’s hardly a boy.”
“Don’t throw Johnny back in my face.”
“I didn’t mean… I just mean that we can’t excuse his actions on age alone. Is there anything you have that could excuse his behavior? Anything at all?”
All eyes turned to Alex. Her eyes clouded—not that she’d allow tears to fall in front of the matrons and primes. “Don’t do this, Lila,” she said finally, a note of pleading finally entering her voice. “What did my brother ever do to you?”
Lila opened her mouth to answer, but she wasn’t sure what to say. It seemed important to say the right thing, because if she didn’t, she knew the right time would never come again.
But the perfect words didn’t come. “I’m sorry. It’s out of my hands.”
“No, it’s not!” Alex shouted, kicking the bottom of Lila’s chair. “Tell them. Tell them it wasn’t his fault!” She kicked again, shoving Lila’s chair into the table. Her third blow landed on Lila’s shin.
Lila sucked in her breath but did not call out.
Nor did anyone else as more kicks landed, as Alex ignored the chair in favor of her former best friend. Perhaps the women were frightened of what Alex would do if they intervened. If she’d assaulted her best friend, what would she do to people she hated?
“Ms. Wilson, I’d say that is enough,” Chairwoman Masson said at last. “I think I speak for the rest of the council when I say our patience has come to an end. This isn’t the time or the place to settle private arguments or to work through your grief. I’m sorry for the loss of your brother and your mother, but neither Lila nor her chair is at fault for Mr. Wilson’s actions. Perhaps you should see the oracle.”
“Fuck you,” Alex yelled, finally breaking off her assault. “Fuck you and fuck the oracle. Fuck the whole damn lot of you.”
Élise’s eyes widened, but she said nothing. Alex had gone so far over the line that the council now looked to Lila to discipline her.
But Lila couldn’t, just as she couldn’t at the great house. She should call for the Bullstow militia and charge Alex with assault against her master. If she didn’t, rumors of her leniency would go round and round the city before the sun rose. What was worse, a second rumor would accompany it, claiming that she’d allowed Alex to abuse the High Council of Judges unchecked.
When Lila didn’t rise to summon the militia, Élise snatched up her gavel. “All who find no fault with the conviction of Celeste Wilson, raise your hand.”
Ten hands went up around the table.
“All opposed?”
Lila did not vote.
“Abstained?”
Lila finally raised her hand. She couldn’t vote to condemn Alex’s mother, but she couldn’t vote for her to go free, either. What else she could do for her friend but this one trifle?
“The council upholds the senate’s decision, ten in favor, one abstention. All who find no fault with the conviction of Patrick Wilson, raise your hand.”
Again, everyone raised their hands but Lila.
“Abstained?” Élise asked.
Lila inclined her head.
“The council upholds the senate’s decision, ten in favor, one abstention.”
Alex shoved Lila’s chair away from the table. It rocked her violently to and fro, her vision shaking with every wobble. “You’ve killed them both. Is this what you wanted?”
“Ms. Wilson, Chief Randolph didn’t even vote,” Chairwoman Masson pointed out.
Alex didn’t seem to care. She turned on her heel and dashed from the room.
The door hadn’t even closed before Lila stood. She chased after her friend, her boots heavy on the marble as they reached the middle of the corridor. “Alex, stop!”
The slave turned, her face locked in stone.
“Alex.”
“No,” she shouted, shoving Lila back. “For the millionth time, you don’t get to call me that ever again. You fucking bitch, you made me help you!”
She shoved Lila again and dropped her voice to a hiss, anger and regret and shame in every word. “Patrick would be at home right now if I hadn’t taken you to the compound. Instead he’s rotting away in a holding cell, waiting to be hanged like a criminal, and three of my cousins are dead. You made me do that! You!”
She shoved Lila again, as tears fell heavy on her cheek. “How could you do that to me? How could you make me help you? You’ve made me worse than her. You did that, Lila. How could do that to me?”
Lila didn’t fight back. She let Alex shove her farther and farther down the hall, back toward the council chambers.
Lila took it, even when Alex slapped her, the sound echoing in the corridor.
“Say something!” Alex shouted at last, punching Lila in the jaw, right where Hans Schulte had elbowed her.
Lila took a step back at last, holding her face.
Alex winced and held her fist, reddened from the blow.
Neither of them moved.
From the corner of her eye, Lila saw the unblinking eyes from the High Council chamber, disgust etched in all ten faces. Several senators gaped at the end of the hall, unsure if they should intervene. A few militia hovered twenty meters away, staring at one another, ears cocked for orders ungiven, tranqs wavering, well aware that the chief had not drawn hers in self-defense.
Lila hadn’t even seen the blackcoats approach.
Her jaw hurt badly.
Her cheekbone still throbbed.
After walking several steps to the High Council chamber, she slammed the door on the matrons and primes before returning. “Alex Craft-Wilson,” she said quietly, “I charge you with assault against your master. You have the right to—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me! But you’re not, are you? You’re serious. Gods, Lila, how do you look at yourself in the mirror? How do you sleep at night?”
When Lila didn’t respond, Alex started forward. “I said how do you—”
Lila grabbed her old friend’s shoulder and guided her toward the wall. The militia ran forward to assist, cuffing Alex’s hands behind her back and patting her down for weapons.
“Take her directly to Chief Shaw’s office, nowhere else,” Lila ordered, already sending him a message on her palm. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to disrupt his evening, but he’d disrupted plenty of hers. He owed her.
“As you wish, Chief Randolph,” one of the militiamen said, bowing before they escorted Alex from the building.
Lila sent another message to Chef, telling her to return home. Then, rubbing her jaw, she slipped back into the council chambers.
“Oracle’s light, did you see her face?” Élise snickered. “It’s like she was possessed. It’s clear now the whole family suffers from poor breeding and aggression. They never should have been admitted into the highborn. They’ve been an embarrassment to us all.”
Lila didn’t even tell her to shut up. She merely lo
oked at Élise, pouring all her anger into the glare.
Élise closed her mouth.
“Perhaps we should move on the last item on the agenda,” Chairwoman Masson suggested.
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Élise said, trying to smile. “Since the House of the Golden Serpent has fallen, we now have cause to add another family into our ranks. There is one lowborn family in New Bristol who has shown decorum in the face of adversity, who has proven their worth, wealth, and quality. If it pleases the council, I nominate Suji Park to join the highborn.”
“I second that motion,” Johanna agreed.
“All in favor?”
Everyone raised their hands, even Lila this time.
“Any other New Bristol families to consider?”
No one said a word. The elevation of Suji Park had already been decided in restaurants, in country clubs, on the lake, among little groups of heirs sipping wine at the end of the day. No further discussion would be needed; the rest was merely a formality.
“All right, Ms. Park will be invited to give a proposal to the High Council of Judges two days hence at our regular meeting. Now, for the other items on the agenda…”
The women quickly passed the legislation sent from the senates, and the meeting broke apart. Lila hopped up as soon as Élise slapped her gavel upon the sounding block.
As Lila slipped into the parking lot, she pulled out her palm to check her messages. After scrolling through quite a few from Tristan, she tapped on the ID of one of her best spies.
Oskar Kruger had gone missing.
Chapter 10
After checking her roadster for bugs and turning off the GPS, Lila left Bullstow and drove to Max Earlwell’s home, which looked like the interior of a dollhouse displayed under a massive, overturned tumbler, surrounded by kilometers of trees and woods and cameras. A finely tailored servant let her inside, then disappeared in the bowels of his master’s house. Lila padded over the cream-colored carpet, ignoring the sky-blue chairs, the marble statuary, and the paintings in the parlor. She leaned upon one of the thin metal beams that framed the curved glass panes of the home, each the size of garage doors.
