by K. B. Wagers
Five minutes later my smati pinged with the incoming message, and I answered the com as I headed for the bedroom.
“Where did you get that recording?”
“Zaran brought Representative Qureshi to see me.”
Caterina sighed. “It figures it’s from a junior representative. Someone with more experience would have gone straight to the press.”
“Maybe,” I replied with a shrug. “Priti’s concerned with being stonewalled over the reforms. We know the prime minister has been dragging her feet over them and from the looks of it getting bolder about voicing her opinions in public. I’m not going to stand for it, Caterina.”
“No, I’ll handle it; you shouldn’t be involved.” Caterina thought for a moment and then smiled. “I know just the person to speak with our prime minister.”
I nodded in reply. “Keep Priti’s name out of it if you can. I don’t want her career to suffer because she did the right thing.”
“That was my plan, though I have a few favors I can call into the GA if necessary. Plus, if she’s got Zaran on her side already, she’ll be fine.” Caterina chuckled at my snort of laughter. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Do that.” Time flashed in the corner of my vision. “I’ve got to go, Caterina; we’re headed for the palace construction tour in a few minutes.”
Caterina’s hard look softened into sympathy. “Take care of yourself, Hail. I know this is hard on you.”
I nodded sharply and disconnected the com.
8
The new skeleton of the palace crawled from the ground like a wrathful spirit, and it took every ounce of self-control I had to not turn and sprint away from it. I didn’t want to go inside. The ground was littered with ghosts. They were going to wrap around my ankles and drag me under the second I set foot through the doors.
But there were news cameras and an architect with shining eyes, all of them watching me, so I pretended my pause was to adjust the gold-and-green sari wrapped around my waist, and my Ekam bent to assist me without a word while Dailun stood like a shield.
I gave him a little nod and straightened, forcing a smile for the cameras and following Emmory through what would one day be the front doors of my palace.
The workers had been cleared for the visit, and a platoon of Royal Marines patrolled the grounds, but only our group went inside and the voice of the architect echoed off the partially finished walls.
“We are, of course, replicating a lot of the original style, Your Majesty. Though, as you instructed, we’ve been strictly sourcing materials from the empire rather than looking to outside vendors.”
I’d agreed to the palace reconstruction only after a great deal of pressure from both councils; however, during the fight and with Alice’s help I’d secured the right to have the final say on all building materials and contractors for the job itself. That had allowed us to hire only local Indranan firms and source building materials from the empire rather than the Solarians. If I was going to have to spend money, I’d spend it at home and do everything I could to get our economy back on its feet.
“We salvaged a great deal of material from areas farthest away from the throne room.” The architect smiled over her shoulder at me. “The door into the throne room was only partially damaged in the blast. We’ll repair it and use it for the new throne room, which is just through here.”
My gut clenched, an icy fist of pain and fear, as we crossed over the threshold. It wasn’t the same room, I tried to tell myself, and yet all I could see was Cas’s golden head bent before my throne as he sacrificed himself for me, for Indrana, in a way I could never repay.
All because Fasé had told him it was his life or Indrana in flames. I remembered how angry Hao had been over what she’d done. He’d nearly killed her. I’d been equally angry but so caught up in trying to get my throne back that there hadn’t been time to really process just what she’d done.
I’d have to face her soon and make the choice to either forgive her or turn my back on her forever.
The architect chattered on, unaware of my sudden rapid breath and how I fumbled for Emmory’s gloved hand.
“I can’t, Emmy. I can’t do this,” I said over our smati link.
“It’s all right, Hail, just breathe.”
His fingers closed around mine, hidden from the news cameras by the other BodyGuards—Guards who, I realized, were all familiar faces: Kisah and Ikeki, both expected since the others had gone off duty, but also Zin, Gita, Indula, and Iza. There were none of my newer BodyGuards, only those who’d been with me through the fight, those who’d survived.
Those who understood.
None of them were looking at me, but it felt as though they were all in my head saying, “We’re here, Majesty. You’re not alone.”
Alba had led the architect off to the other side of the room and was asking questions about the buttresses.
I blinked, scattering unshed tears and the vision of my previous Dve from my eyes.
“Anyone who thinks you don’t carry the weight of your choices with a great deal of awareness, jiejie, is a fool,” Dailun murmured from my other side.
Emmory squeezed my hand and then let me go when I exhaled.
“What are we doing tonight?” I asked once I could trust my voice not to waver. “Give me a distraction, Emmory, or I can’t promise I won’t run out of here screaming.”
“My parents are in town, Majesty.”
“Oh, that’s lovely, why aren’t you and Zin taking time off to—” The realization hit me before I finished the sentence. “Oh Shiva, no.”
Only the presence of the news cameras kept me from staring at my Ekam in shock.
“It was your idea, Majesty.”
“What?” Even as I shook my head, the memory of saying something about how long it had been since Emmory had been home filtered into my brain. “I said you should go see them, Emmy, not that you should bring them to see me.”
My Ekam’s grin was startlingly unrepentant. “My mother wanted to come to the capital, Majesty. She said it’s been too long since she’s been here.”
“I’m holding you personally responsible for my impending heart attack, Ekam.”
“You wanted the distraction.”
“Dhatt. I’m fairly sure that doesn’t count as a proper distraction.” I hissed at him and headed across the throne room to rejoin Alba and the architect.
Thanks to Emmory’s news, I managed to find a balance between panic and grief that lasted me the remainder of the palace tour and through most of the remaining afternoon.
As the late summer sun began to set, I paced the confines of my room, waiting for Emmory and his parents to arrive.
I’d driven Stasia crazy, changing outfits twice—from my shimmering gray sari to my customary black uniform and back again—before she’d told me if I wanted to change a third time I’d have to do it myself and she wasn’t fixing my hair again.
My green curls had grown out some from the impromptu haircut Emmory had given me when we’d been exposed to Mustard T-18 at the Naidu estate and were now brushing my shoulders again. Stasia had twisted them up around a simple silver circlet and I knew if I tried to mess with it the whole thing would end up a disaster.
“Hail, sit down,” Hao ordered.
The snap of command, something he hadn’t used on me in a very long time, did the trick. I dropped into a chair, my back ramrod-straight and my hands in my lap. I stared at the door, dreading the moment it would open but needing this to all be over.
“Relax your damn shoulders. You’re taking the regal bit too far.” Hao spotted the look on my face and stopped his teasing. “Hail, seriously, breathe before you pass out.”
“She’s going to hate me,” I whispered.
“What?”
“I killed her son.”
“Hail—”
“Portis would be alive if he hadn’t gone with me.”
“You have no guarantee of that.” Hao dropped to a knee at my side an
d took my hands in his. “Yes, he’s gone, but he could have just as easily died here. You were not responsible for the choices that he made, so stop trying to shoulder that burden. You and I both know Portis would be furious at you for it.” The door opened and Hao rose to his feet. “And I suspect his family would feel the same.”
I swallowed my nerves and pasted a smile onto my face, rising as Emmory and his parents entered the room followed by Zin.
“Your Imperial Majesty, if I may present Anah and Haris Tresk.”
The pair in front of me bowed. What Emmory’s mother lacked in height, she made up for in an elegance I could never hope to achieve. Anah’s gold-tipped braids flashed in the light of the setting sun. Her husband’s dark head was as bare as his son’s.
“Please, get up. It’s a great pleasure to meet you,” I said as I crossed the room. They both rose, Haris towering over his wife and son, his eyes filled with a calm warmth that reminded me so much of Portis my heart stuttered in my chest.
“It is our pleasure, Your Majesty; thank you for having us,” Anah said, her voice smoky and soft, carrying the weight of a trusted leader. I could hear echoes of it in my Ekam’s own voice.
“Anah, Haris.” I took their hands and went down on a knee, ignoring the indrawn breaths and the way Anah tried to pull her hand from my grasp.
“Majesty, no, you shouldn’t—”
“Thank you,” I said, unable to keep the tears from my eyes or my voice. “Thank you for the gift of your sons. There is nothing I can give you in return that is equal in worth. All that I have and more is yours; you have only to ask.”
“Majesty.” Anah flexed her hand in mine, glancing at her husband, tears standing in her eyes.
The sad smile on his face echoed his wife’s, and Haris Tresk pulled me to my feet with a gentle tug. I landed in his embrace, feeling Anah’s arms tighten around my waist as I buried my face against his chest and wept.
I don’t know how long we stood there as pieces of my wounded heart slowly fused back into place, only that when we separated and I turned away to wipe the tears from my face I caught a glimpse of Hao smiling.
“Anah, Haris, if I could introduce Cheng Hao.” I made the introductions as Emmory opened the door and a trio of servers entered behind Stasia. With the same efficiency of a general on a battlefield she had us settled and served by the time I’d finished the introductions.
Muffling a smile at the way my Ekam sat awkwardly in his chair, I raised my glass before anyone else had a chance to. “Ladies and gentlemen, to the empire.”
“To the empire.”
“And to Her Imperial Majesty, long may she reign.” Anah beat her son to the toast, a mischievous sparkle in eyes that were so like Emmory’s. The table echoed the words.
Dinner was pleasant. Anah kept the conversation rolling with practiced ease, and the topics were as light as the meal.
“You have turned over the running of your company to your manager?”
Anah nodded. “It’s been almost five years. I am technically retired, but—”
“Mother decided to try her hand at growing spices in addition to selling them because she doesn’t know how to relax,” Emmory said with a grin.
“Sounds like someone else I know,” I countered, unsuccessfully hiding my smile behind my glass when he gave me the Look.
“Whose fault is that, Your Majesty?”
The laughter that followed reminded me of my childhood and the family dinners before Mother became empress. The sadness that curled in my heart was a faint echo of what it had been. Warm memory was now tangled among the shards and I could listen to the stories of Emmory and Portis’s childhood without pain.
After the meal, Anah joined me on the balcony, where the sounds of Hao telling some wild tale to Haris and the others wafted out into the night air.
“There is a storm coming,” Anah said, leaning on the railing and rolling her wineglass between her palms. “You can smell the ozone ahead of it.” She smiled. “And according to my manager it has already hit down in Assamin.”
I knew she was talking purely about the weather, but something about it shook me to the core and I realized a large part of my unease during the day had been my gut trying to warn me—but of what I had no idea.
“You expanded your operations to include several farms in the region?”
“I have been experimenting with peppercorns.” Her dark eyes lit up with delight. “Five years ago, I got my hands on some heirloom plants from Earth and crossbred them with our own Indranan peppercorn. The piper indus are, of course, plants descended from Earth’s piper nigrum, but the soil here changed the taste and—” She broke off, shaking her head. “My apologies, Your Majesty, I am a bit obsessive about this. Emmory is right. I don’t know how to relax.”
“I’m not bored, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Sipping at my drink, I leaned on the railing next to her. “What is it about our soil that changed the taste?”
“I don’t quite know, Majesty.” Anah smiled. “I am not a scientist, just a dabbler. Time, the composition of our soil, the radiation from our suns? From what I’ve read there are many factors at play. The end result is that our pepper has a more bitter aftertaste than Earth’s. I was hoping the reintroduction would add some of the sweetness back in.” Her smile grew. “It did. It has also increased the spiciness, possibly a hair too much. I’m not entirely sure how to fix it.”
“It might be time to call in some of those scientists,” I said. “I just signed a trade agreement with the Tarsi that would interest you. They have some very good agriculture specialists. I’ll let you know when the documents are available.”
“That would be lovely, Your Majesty. Thank you.” Anah took a drink and stared out into the darkness. “I know my son is eavesdropping and might interrupt me, but I wanted to ask you: Was Portis happy?”
Most days it was too easy to pretend it had been less than a year since his death, but at Anah’s question all those feelings came rushing back. I couldn’t stop the gasp as a thousand images of Portis flashed through my head: the love in his eyes that would appear without warning over dinner or something equally mundane, the smile on his face as we’d stepped onto our new ship, even the frustrated glare he so often pointed in my direction when I put my life at risk.
“Mother.” Emmory’s protest was hushed and faded when I held up my hand.
“Before he died, he told me he wouldn’t have traded a single day,” I whispered. “I loved him.” Tears tangled themselves into the words. “He loved me.”
Anah’s cheeks glistened in the moonlight. She reached up, touching her crossed middle and index finger to her lips and then to my heart. “Good. It does not ease the loss of his light, but I will rest better knowing he was where he wanted to be and that you were with him at the end. You are a good woman and an empress who will lead us into a bright future.”
I returned the gesture, my own cheeks wet with tears, until Anah wrapped her arms around me and held me close. I wasn’t going to get to spend the rest of my life with Portis like I’d wanted to, but I liked to think he was proud of me and the world I was trying to create.
9
Several days later I sat curled in a chair out on my balcony. The afternoon breeze cut through some of the humidity that still lingered from the series of storms that had swept in the night Emmory’s parents visited and the background sound of traffic rushing through the air.
Taran chattered about his day via a com link routed through my smati. My former nephew’s eyes shone with the thrill of discovery that not even the events of the past year could extinguish.
He was technically no longer my nephew, since the councils had insisted we remove my sister’s son from the family tree to prevent any further attempts to seize the throne; but I felt responsible for him. When Father Westinkar, an old priest from my childhood, had offered to take Taran to Ashva, I’d agreed.
Taran would live in a Buddhist temple on the other habitable planet in our home syst
em that was run by a friend of Father Westinkar’s. Tefiz Ovasi and Fenna Britlen would keep an eye on the boy, and anyone stupid enough to come after him would have to face the pair of them. I trusted my childhood Dve and the former GIS director not only with my own life but with Taran’s, and with their help he’d grow up to be a good man.
In the meantime, I stayed in touch to give Taran some measure of consistency in a life gone mad, and what started as awkward weekly smati calls had evolved into something I looked forward to a great deal.
“Put Father Westinkar on,” I said with a smile once he’d wound down. “I’ll talk to you next week.”
“Bye, Aunt Hail.” Taran waved, the picture fuzzed and Father Westinkar’s kind face filled my vision.
“Your Majesty.”
“How are you, Father?”
“I’m good, child, you?”
“It’s been quiet,” I replied, thinking of how I still hadn’t resolved the incident with the prime minister and of the report I’d seen an hour ago about yet another skirmish between the Shen and the Farians near a Solarian port. No one had been injured in what amounted to a situation where the previously stolen Farian ships had warped in, fired on a group of Farian vessels, and then warped out again before anyone could return fire.
I couldn’t tell the old priest any of that, even though Father Westinkar had secrets he would take to his grave. The ongoing issue with Prime Minister Tesla was still Caterina’s problem, and Father Westinkar would be the first to tell me he didn’t know anything about fighting a war so there was very little point in talking about my worries over the Farians.
Father Westinkar laughed, unaware of my wandering thoughts. “A blessing, then; Taran is doing well. His nightmares seem to have lessened and he has been quite open in therapy. He has a bright mind, Majesty. He will do great things for this empire.”
“Cire would have been proud.” Thinking about my sister didn’t bring as much of a knife-sharp pain now that we were almost a year out from her death, but I touched my hand to my heart, lips, and forehead in remembrance, and Father Westinkar echoed the gesture. “Thank you, Father.”
