She was blinded by the sunlight that reflected off every surface. The room was all white, full of white furniture and white tasseled pillows and white curtains that blew in the breeze. Someone in the center of the room came for her now, a dark silhouette moving swiftly. Rhee fumbled toward a nearby table and snatched up the first thing she could get her hands on.
“Stay back!” she yelled.
“Ancestors, ahn ouck, what do you plan to do with that?” A woman’s voice, deep and familiar. Tai Reyanna. It had always sounded to Rhee as if her voice were full of smoke. It lingered in a room even after she was done speaking.
Only then did Rhee realize she was holding a hairbrush.
“You,” Rhee said, face-to-face with Tai Reyanna. She had hated being called ahn ouck. It meant child, and felt especially patronizing since she no longer was one. It was a tactic—a way to remind Rhee of the girl she’d been when her family died. “You had me kidnapped?”
“It was that or have you imprisoned,” she said. Rhee realized it was the first time she’d ever seen her Tai’s hair. Rather than tucked up under an elaborately arranged scarf, it fell around her face in black waves, threaded with streaks of silver. “I feared you were moving toward the latter option by shoving your way through the crowd like a maniac. I told the guards you were merely a young girl, and you might need some guidance. Which you do.”
“Why did you blindfold me?”
Tai Reyanna shook her head. “So you couldn’t run away before we spoke.”
Her adviser had been lettering—Rhee could see the uniform lines of cursive across a scroll of brown paper behind her. Watching her Tai practice the ancient art used to relax her. It required a certain stillness and patience that reminded her of Veyron. He and Tai Reyanna had never seemed friendly, but the two had been alike in so many ways.
Rhee studied Tai Reyanna’s face. She was her adviser, her mentor, her teacher, and her guide. Could the woman who’d taught her history and languages, fled with her to the safety of the desert moon, watched over her for the past nine years, have conspired to have her killed? Rhee didn’t want to believe that was possible.
But Veyron had looked after her too.
“Where are we?” Rhee asked cautiously. But one look out the window and she already knew; the Tinoppa crystals in the distance. That meant Dahlen was close by.
“I will ask the questions,” Tai Reyanna said in a raised voice. Her face had turned stony, rough—like the hard-packed sand that was left once the foam of a wave receded. “Where have you been?”
Rhee looked down. It was unusual for Tai Reyanna to show emotion; she’d been rigid and focused during those years on Nau Fruma. But now organic memories bubbled to the surface of Rhee’s mind. Tai Reyanna, younger, helping her dress and teaching her to read. Her laugh—how forceful it was, a loud exhale. HA! just once before she began to snicker. How could Rhee have forgotten those moments? But she knew the answer: because she hadn’t saved them, replayed them. They’d been archived from disuse so long ago.
“Answer me!” Tai Reyanna demanded.
Now Rhee’s tongue felt fat and clumsy, and she couldn’t find the words. It was as if they’d been transported back to Nau Fruma, to the dusty palace and the daily lessons. What could she say?
Tai Reyanna strode across the room, back straight, with purpose. Rhee tensed. She glanced outside and quickly counted three stories down; there was a small tree to break her fall if she needed to jump.
But Tai Reyanna only swept her into an unexpected hug. Rhee was not used to their touching; in fact, the last time the Tai had held her, she was six and had just learned of her parents’ death—another memory she’d archived, hidden deep within her cube so she wouldn’t ever have to remember it again.
Rhee felt herself succumbing, becoming that little girl all over again. The Tai was skin and bones—had she always been this tiny?—but the familiar smell of incense that clung to her robes was bold and fragrant. Rhee inhaled deeply, feeling her eyes well, feeling at last that she was holding on to a piece of home.
For a second, she forgot all of it: Veyron, the Eliedio exploding, the riots and the martial law, Seotra here on this very asteroid.
“How did you escape?” Tai Reyanna said into Rhee’s hair. “How did you survive?”
The question brought Rhee back to herself. She pushed out of the Tai’s embrace.
“How did you survive?” Rhee asked, not unkindly—but she took a step back just the same. “I saw the Eliedio explode.”
“We were evacuated. I went to find you, but the Tasinn forced us onto the escape pods, and I trusted Veyron would . . .” She trailed off at the mention of his name, as if it deserved the respect of their ancestors.
“Did everyone manage to escape?”
“No,” Tai Reyanna said, straightening the folds at the front of her robes. She’d always demanded perfection, though Rhee couldn’t help but wonder if it was an excuse to look away. “There weren’t enough pods for everyone.” Rhee felt a twist of new guilt: They’d used a pod for Veyron’s body. “It wasn’t until I was grounded that I realized you hadn’t made it out. I heard that Veyron died trying to save you from an attacker—a Wraetan boy,” Tai Reyanna said, and even she, who was supposed to be neutral, couldn’t help but show her distaste.
“That’s a lie,” Rhee said. “I’ve never seen that boy.”
“All of the holos are reporting it.”
Rhee knew that. She’d been watching. They’d claimed Alyosha Myraz had enlisted in the UniForce under false credentials in a long-term plot to assassinate her. Rumor had it he’d planted that explosive device in case his attempt on her life had failed.
“Have they caught him?” Rhee asked. When Tai Reyanna shook her head, she exhaled with relief. But with his image beamed everywhere across the universe, it couldn’t be long. So many people, dead in her place.
“What’s going on, Rhiannon? What have you done to your face? What happened to you?” Tai Reyanna asked. There were dark half-moons under her eyes.
Rhee brought her hand up to touch her face, which was still swollen. “You know what happened,” she said without bitterness. She’d lost the will to play games, trying to outmaneuver and outsmart at every turn. The mounting deaths weighed on her, and the memory of Seotra waving from the knoll burned inside of her. “Seotra sent Veyron to kill me.”
There was a question buried deep inside, clawing its way out of her throat and onto the tip of her tongue: Did you conspire with him? But she couldn’t bring herself to ask it.
“Veyron?” Tai Reyanna repeated. The woman turned away, gripping the windowsill as though to stay on her feet. “No. He wouldn’t.”
Tai Reyanna looked back to her. “Whoever sent him, it wasn’t Andrés Seotra. He was your father’s closest and oldest friend,” she said, her voice a low current that shocked Rhee. “They were as close as brothers. Andrés Seotra fought to be Crown Regent so he could protect the Ta’an’s interests.”
“I know that. It makes his betrayal ten times worse,” Rhee said.
“There was no betrayal,” Tai Reyanna said sharply. “Not by him. He has been loyal to your bloodline.”
“He opposed the Urnew Treaty—”
“—because it did not go far enough,” Tai Reyanna cut her off. “He wanted a peace that endured even if there was no Ta’an on the throne. Don’t you see? He worried that otherwise there was incentive to kill you—to kill all of you. Ancestors, help me,” Tai Reyanna murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Is this what you’ve believed the whole time? Is this why you refused to see him all these years?”
“You knew that he—that he wanted to see me?” Rhee felt the knowledge bleed through her, staining every bit of her silly, petty soul.
“Of course. He’d consulted me on the matter. He thought he must remind you of your grief, and we’d agreed we had to give you time.”
/>
Every hair stood on end. Half the beings in the galaxy will want you dead, he’d said in her memory. Is this what he’d been speaking of? That the treaty did not provide strong enough protections?
Had she even ever bothered to find out?
No. She was getting confused. Seotra was responsible. Rhee was sure of it—she’d always been sure of it. The goal she’d worked toward was so tantalizingly close, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted by any doubts.
“Take me to Seotra. I want to talk to him,” Rhee said. “I want to know everything that he’d meant to tell me. From the beginning.”
It was a half-truth. She did want to talk to Seotra, to face him, to call him a liar—and to kill him, still. Despite what Tai Reyanna said, or perhaps because of it. Rhee still wasn’t certain she could trust her entirely.
“You should’ve reached out earlier.” Tai Reyanna turned away from her and moved to the door. “I mourned you. I prayed to you. And this whole time you were still alive.”
Rhee didn’t answer. She imagined her heart as a stone—something impenetrable, unmoved. Someone had to pay for her grief.
No—Seotra had to pay. Because the terrifying truth had come to her: She wanted him to be guilty. She needed him to be guilty, so she could finally atone.
Rhee should have died with her family.
This was the only way to say she was sorry.
• • •
The Tinoppa palace library was nothing like the libraries she’d known. Her mother had maintained the palace library back in Sibu, but its smell had been worn and musty, and comforting, too—like a soft blanket slipped around your shoulders. Sunlight would filter in, slanting slowly across the room.
This library was cold, dim, and without windows. As they moved through the enormous towers of books, goose bumps formed on Rhee’s arms and shoulders. The room must have been climate-controlled to preserve the paper, but her body was reacting to something apart from the temperature. Half the books were wrapped in plastic, sheathed like dead bodies, or tucked behind glass. Their footsteps barely made a sound on the carpet.
“Where is he?” Rhee whispered. The library appeared to be deserted.
Tai Reyanna just frowned and shook her head. Rhee heard light footsteps and turned just in time to see the shadow of a man pass quickly between shelves. Electricity danced on her skin. A trap. It had to be a trap.
She looked at Tai Reyanna. “You lied to me.” Her governess was short, like her; they stood face-to-face, and Tai Reyanna looked terrified. “Where is he?”
Tai Reyanna shook her head. “Seotra?” she croaked, and then cleared her throat. “Seotra?”
“No!” Seotra’s voice came from somewhere in the stacks. “It’s a trap. Get her out of here!”
Just then a high-pitched whine sounded throughout the room, a noise that reminded Rhee of charge, of current, of electricity humming to life. Before she could wonder what it was, they were thrown backward by the force of a blinding white explosion.
Debris was flung everywhere, and charred paper and ash fell among them like snow. Rhee could barely hear anything; it was like the world had been muted and replaced by a low hum. She pushed herself up on her elbows and saw Tai Reyanna, a few feet away but unmoving. Rhee tried to call to her but could barely hear her own voice. She crawled through pieces of splintered bookshelf, through fluttering paper, feeling as if her body, too, had been blown apart, as if it were taking forever for her brain to send commands to her arms and legs.
Tai Reyanna opened her eyes when Rhee shook her. But immediately the hazy look fell away, her eyes wide, as she pulled Rhee close and said something in urgent tones. Rhee couldn’t make out her words over the hum in her ears.
“I can’t hear you,” she said, then tried to repeat louder. “Stay here!” Tai Reyanna’s eyes were wide. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. Rhee had never seen her cry.
Fear filled up every atom of Rhee’s body. She felt like it would overflow out of her eyes, but she pushed herself forward. She slipped between two bookcases that had miraculously remained upright. She squeezed the hilt of the knife so tightly her knuckles went white.
She sidestepped down the row, still trying to clear the buzzing from her ears. She used to hide in her mother’s library, too, back on Kalu. Those floors were covered with tasseled rugs, woven through with red and orange hues, so thick it felt like a forest floor. She’d crawl along those very rugs, through a maze of table legs and chairs in a game of hide-and-seek—and she remembered now how Josselyn had surprised her once, poking her head out upside down from the table above, her thick braid swinging like a pendulum as she said: “BOO!”
Another explosion. This time Rhee dropped and clamped her hands to her ears, and when the dust and paper mist cleared, she found she hadn’t lost full use of her hearing: From somewhere nearby, she could hear Seotra moaning.
Someone else was after Seotra too.
Maybe someone who didn’t want her to have answers?
There was no more time to think. She spun around the bookshelf and had a quick view of a bloodied Seotra on the ground, and a tall figure in a hooded cape standing above him.
When the man began to turn, she spun her leg out in a low roundhouse. As he collapsed, she jumped, driving him to the ground and then mounting his back. She stuck her knee in a pressure point at the base of his spine and sunk the point of her knife in his neck so that it barely broke skin. It happened so quickly that only when she was positioned did she see his neck was covered in tattoos, and that he had dirty blond hair and wore a black ring on his right hand.
“Dahlen?” She moved off of him and stumbled backward, horrified. “What—what are you doing?”
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Dahlen extended his right hand toward Seotra as if he were commanding him to stop, and Rhee watched in horror and fascination as electricity gathered in the base of his palm. It was the ring, Fontisian technology at work. Tiny surges flared outward like the veins in a leaf, seemingly grabbing energy in the air and burning it, converting the air to forks of blue and white flame.
“Stop,” Rhee said. The stream of smokeless fire wrapped Seotra up and lifted him off the ground, folding him nearly in two, as he moaned in pain. “STOP!” She sprang to tackle Dahlen. But she crashed into a wall of air, clear but firm—and it wouldn’t let her get to him.
“He is a war criminal,” Dahlen said. “He deserves what he gets.”
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” Rhee was screaming so hard her voice was raw. She ran again and again for Seotra, trying to break the invisible barrier, but it was impossible. She was bruised, thrown backward off her feet as if she were running into a solid wall. And finally, mercifully, Dahlen did stop. The Regent collapsed backward, his mouth dark with blood, his clothing smoking.
“Why?” Rhee couldn’t help it. She was crying now. “Why?”
“He does not deserve your tears,” Dahlen said coldly. “He betrayed the order, and he betrayed you.”
Seotra struggled to sit up. “I’ve made peace with your Elder, boy!”
“And what of all the souls you took?” Dahlen asked. “You can’t make peace with the dead.”
Seotra shook his head and looked at Rhee. “I never betrayed you.”
“You betrayed my family,” she said, but as the words came out she felt uncertainty gripping her. Her skin felt tight. That smile she’d seen . . . the words she’d overheard . . . fragments, really. What did they mean?
“That’s what you think?” He was consumed by a hacking cough that brought up more black blood. “I swear on my life, Rhiannon. I loved your family like my own. I’ve wanted to speak with you for so long. So many memories I wanted you to see. I’ve been trying to protect you. I’ve been—”
The words died in his throat. Dahlen held up a hand again, and the Regent began to seize. Sparks danced from his body. Fire f
lowed like a ribbon tying Dahlen and Seotra together. Then Seotra’s body burst into sudden flame. He mumbled, but Rhee couldn’t hear, couldn’t understand. Only one phrase reached her:
“Ma’tan sarili!” he yelled.
In a single second, Seotra’s body began to crumble, the fire eating away at his edges until his face and eyes and shock-white hair disappeared into black. He dropped like sands of an hourglass, into a tiny mountain of ash on the gray floor.
He hadn’t even screamed.
Rhee looked at Dahlen. “How dare you.” She tasted ash on her tongue.
“He was not a good man,” Dahlen said, his tone flat and expressionless as always. He opened his palm, and the ring gave off blue sparks before it turned black again. Dahlen’s hand was badly burned. “He held my Elder hostage for years, but not before he commanded the slaughter of one monastery in the order. The very home of my family . . .”
“You know this boy?” Tai Reyanna’s voice was practically a whisper, but it still startled Rhee. She turned and saw her adviser limping toward them through the wreckage. “This fanatic?”
Rhee felt as if she were the one who’d been incinerated. All of her beliefs were smoke. They’d all blown apart. For the last nine years she knew Seotra had been responsible for her family’s deaths. And now she couldn’t even trust herself to tell left from right or up from down. “Dahlen saved my life.”
“He killed the Regent. An ally to your family. The one man trying to keep peace—”
“This man did not believe in peace,” Dahlen said. His eyes were dark and unreadable. “He’s a murderer who has never atoned for his sins. But Vodhan will be his judge.”
“Your precious Vodhan,” Tai Reyanna said with so much hatred that it transformed her features to someone Rhee didn’t recognize. “There is no god that could help a soul as rotten as yours.”
A crash sounded above them. Footsteps rattled the lights in their glass casing.
“Tasinn.” Dahlen turned to Tai Reyanna. “You called them.”
Empress of a Thousand Skies Page 12
