They had reached the stairs that joined the castle proper to the royal suite. Whoever had designed Vysylka Castle—some ancestor of Kavya’s no doubt—had taken pains to keep the common and royal areas separated. For some reason, the idea irked Symeon just now. He strode upward, his legs churning like a threshing machine back on the farm, his boots clomping on the stone risers.
Never missing a stride, Czarina kept pace with him. She really was an annoying brat.
“Telling Ivan, or Kavya for that matter, about the Wuxia would be a mistake.”
Symeon had reached the landing. He stopped to face her. Kavya’s usual two doormen watched them for a moment in anticipation, but dutifully turned their attentions elsewhere when neither Symeon nor Czarina made to enter.
“Are we back to threats then?” Symeon whispered, his tone vehement.
She shook her head. “I’ve made all the threats I intended. You’ll believe them or you won’t, that’s on you. But I am going to give you a warning.”
“And that differs from a threat, how?”
“It causes you no immediate harm.” Czarina leaned closer, though she was careful to maintain a proper distance to preserve decorum between unmarried slaves of vastly different stations. “Think of what happens to Kavya if you oust us. Her father exiled her to this island for the mere offense of speaking out against Luxing slavery. How much more will he do if he discovers she’s a traitor to his duchy and the empire itself? Her fate likely wouldn’t fall to him anyway. The emperor would see her dead.”
“I told you last night, I have no intention of divulging her secrets to anyone.”
“And my secrets?”
He stared into her eyes, his face deadpan.
“Do you, for a moment, believe you could expose the Wuxia to Ivan or the grand duke without revealing our connections to Kavya? We’re far too enmeshed. You reveal one, you reveal both.”
She’s right, of course. Don’t let anger cloud your judgement.
Symeon ground his teeth. “I’ve had enough of your threats. I don’t even know if you’re sane. I’ve seen exactly zero evidence of your claims. From my perspective, you look like a grasping handmaid with delusions of power and manipulation.”
Czarina’s face colored a shade darker, her lips curled back in a near snarl, but before she could speak the double doors to Kavya’s personal apartments swung open so fast the doormen were forced to leap out of the way.
“Oh! Sorry for that.” Kavya took a moment to make certain her men weren’t injured. Both agreed she hadn’t hurt them and she turned in haste toward Symeon and Czarina, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and panic. “Ivan just called from orbit. He’s on his way here to collect me. I’ve been invited to the divor!”
* * *
“It’s unprecedented, Princess.” Symeon eyed Czarina who flashed him a brief smile before turning her attention back to Kavya. The two of them had joined her in the private office adjoined to her apartments.
“Which only makes sense. It’s not every day aliens show up in our system.” Kavya had taken a seat at her desk, but looked on the verge of abandoning it to pace the room. Her silver-blue eyes sparkled with avid energy as she drummed her fingers on the wood. “There are protocols—rules I must observe during the session. I learned them as a child, but I won’t remember.”
“We’ll see that you’re prepared,” Czarina said, leaving Symeon to wonder if her ‘we’ meant herself and him or the mysterious Wuxia.
“And clothes. I haven’t worn my court attire in ages. I’ll need appropriate outfits, alluring but business-like. You know what I mean, right?”
“I’ll see to it; don’t you worry.” Czarina sounded like a seasoned mother speaking to her youngest, flightiest child before her first cotillion.
“Symeon, you’re schooled in the proper etiquette, aren’t you? You can guide me?”
“Of course, Princess, though I’d warn you, there are no written, or even unwritten codes for heirs invited to accompany their parents into the divor convocation. Are you certain Ivan rab Rurikid meant exactly that? Might you simply be visiting outside the ministry while the peers meet?”
Kavya narrowed her eyes. “Ivan was quite explicit, but if you doubt me, you may ask him yourself when he arrives.”
Why was it every time he spoke to the princess he ended up apologizing? Symeon had assumed his training in the School of Seneschals, especially his many classes devoted solely to diplomacy, would have prepared him for handling even the touchiest of elite Shorvex. He worried no amount of training would ever prepare him for the likes of Kavya.
Unfair. Your question was rude. You assumed she had misunderstood Ivan’s request because you underestimate her.
“My apologies, Princess.” He bowed to show contrition. “I do not doubt you.”
Something stole over Kavya’s face like a storm cloud rushing to mar an otherwise perfect day. She scrutinized Symeon. “You don’t doubt me, but do you trust me, Seneschal?”
“Implicitly, Princess.”
“On the surface, yes, I see the trust in your eyes. But when I look deeper, I wonder. You know I released Emperor Pyotr’s communication with the Bith to the planetary sphere. You know I stole duchy secrets from my father’s government.”
Symeon glanced at Czarina who sat demurely in the chair next to him, her eyes focused ahead. “I do, Princess. And I have told no one.”
“I know you haven’t.” Kavya held up her personal comm. “I would have received a warning if you had contacted anyone outside Yaya in the last eighteen hours. But does that mean I can trust you? Would you trust yourself in my place?”
With this many doubts swirling around in my head? Hardly.
“That isn’t an easy question to answer, Princess.”
“I’m not excited to enter the divor simply for the experience.” Kavya spread her hands on the desk before her. “I want to ensure my father can’t launch his coup against the empire. What you said on the matter rang true with me. Although I still believe I’ve thwarted his plans, at least for the foreseeable future, it’s possible he could go through with them. If I’m at the divor, however, I might be able to stop him nonetheless.”
Symeon sat up straighter. “Are you saying you would divulge what you know? What you’ve done?”
“If it means avoiding a solar war, yes.” Kavya held his gaze without wavering.
Symeon wanted to ask more—he wanted to ask Czarina how Kavya’s presence on the council would benefit the Wuxia—but Vlademar opened the outer door before he got the chance.
“Seneschal Ivan rab Rurikid has arrived, Princess.” Vlademar had dressed in much finer clothes than his usual butler’s attire. He wore a black and gray suit matched with an azure vest and crimson tie. He had also slicked back the little hair left on his thinning pate so that it resembled a salt and pepper wave.
Ivan swept into the room, his face flushed, his formal cape whipping out behind him as Vlademar made his exit, careful to avoid snagging the thing when he shut the doors. Like the butler, Ivan wore his best: an expensively tailored suit that probably cost as much as a personal aircraft, an ornate chain of office bearing the royal seal of House Rurikid—a double-headed raven clutching a scepter in one claw and a bundle of arrows in the other—and a pair of boots polished to a mirrored shine.
Not by his hands, I’d wager.
Symeon and Czarina stood while Ivan made obeisance to the princess, bowing at the waist, arms arranged after the proper fashion, one in front and one behind. “Princess Kavya. I apologize for my hastiness. I know my call was abrupt.”
“As it should have been, Ivan.” Kavya moved around her desk to plant a kiss on both of the seneschal’s cheeks. “You do no more than your duty.”
“You are too kind, Princess. Too understanding. I’m afraid the emperor’s decision to include heirs in the divor has everyone in the fleet in a tizzy.” Ivan’s gaze strayed to Symeon and Czarina. “I assume they know?”
Kavya nodded. “We were j
ust discussing the logistics of moving sufficient staff with enough speed to meet the crown’s demands.”
Isn’t she a marvelous liar?
Of course. She wouldn’t have survived this long if she lacked the skills to match her ambition. Symeon could respect that, though Kavya’s ability gave him pause. Until now, he had assumed he knew the princess well enough to recognize a lie if she fed him one. He had miscalculated.
“Good, they’ll be invaluable to you. And me as well, I think.” Ivan gave Symeon a meaningful look before turning back to the princess. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid we have little room aboard ship. You’re allowed four.”
Kavya looked as though she might complain but didn’t. Instead, she nodded. “Very well.”
“And we have no time to waste, Princess. Your father has made it clear he expects you to accompany him to Bastrayavich aboard his flag ship, the Emperor Nikolai , which is set to get underway in six hours.”
A secret thrill ran through Symeon despite his nervousness. He had always wanted to see the inside of a spacecraft in the flesh. In a handful of hours, he would be riding aboard the pride of the Valensk fleet. Few enough Luxing ever got that chance since the Shorvexan Empire deemed them ineligible for military service. Certainly, many Shorvexan officers kept slaves as batmen, but that sort of role had never appealed to Symeon. Space travel, however, had always seemed a sublime pursuit.
“Very well.” Kavya turned to Symeon. “Will you inform Vlademar of our new staffing numbers? He’s not going to like it.”
“Of course, Princess.” Symeon bowed and started for the exit.
“I have my own duties to attend if we’re going to make our rendezvous,” Ivan said. “Will you please excuse me as well, Princess?”
Kavya, who had already returned to her desk and was typing furiously on her holo display, made a shooing motion to the both of them. “Go, go, and give me quiet. I’m trying to piece together a wardrobe here.”
Symeon let Ivan lead him from the room. The older seneschal set a hard pace, striding with authority. He remained quiet until he and Symeon had reached Castle Vysylka’s central hallway, which stood empty after the earlier bustle.
Ivan stopped before one of the building’s massive windows to bathe in a pool of sunlight. He had grown a scruff of beard, most unusual for a slave of his position. Clean-shaven faces were expected by the Shorvex from their trusted stewards. He rubbed at his cheek absently as if the whiskers bothered him.
“You wanted something, Seneschal?” Symeon prompted.
“I have a task for you, Symeon, but I fear it may not be to your liking. I must ask that you serve not only as Princess Kavya’s advisor in the coming days, but as her mentor as well.”
“Sir, is it my place to mentor someone of her rank?”
“It is, son. It’s always been the seneschal’s job to gently guide young royals in the way they should go.” Ivan held up both hands. “Don’t misunderstand me here. I mean suggesting, not pushing. Persuasion, not force. We are still servants no matter our stations.”
Symeon almost laughed at the idea of forcing Kavya Rurikid to do anything she didn’t want, especially with Czarina at her side. “What sort of persuasion, sir?”
“The princess harbors certain ideas about how our people are mistreated. Ideas unpopular with her father, or anyone with a mature sense of order. In the past, she’s had a tendency to spout these beliefs in mixed company.” Ivan eyed Symeon closely. “You may have heard some rumors about that?”
“It’s the reason she lives here on Yaya Island.”
“Just so. Thus, I think it would benefit her, and you, to coach the princess on keeping her opinions to herself. We wouldn’t want her to embarrass the grand duke in the divor, especially over ideas Kavya will surely outgrow as she ages and acquires more wisdom.”
He would have you muzzle her? As if you could.
“I will do everything in my power to protect House Rurikid, Seneschal.” Symeon bowed.
Ah, well played.
“Thank you, my boy. That is all I ask.”
* * * * *
Chapter 11
Symeon stared out a three-meter-tall window aboard the Emperor Nikolai at the blue sphere of Phoenix in a backdrop of stars.
“You can see it on a holo or in a game a billion times, and it’s never the same as witnessing it in the flesh.” Kavya stood just ahead of Symeon, dressed in a fine white traveling gown embroidered with pearls from the planet below. Her hairdressers had piled her silver tresses high upon her head to reveal the smooth turn of her neck where it met her bare shoulders.
“I should say not.” Symeon gazed at their shared home world with a mix of awe and trepidation. He knew very well that space travel was safe. Millions of people made trips between Phoenix and the local colonies every year without incident. Standing here, in the princess’ assigned berthage, felt no different than having his feet planted on solid ground. Yet knowing he was aboard a hurtling hunk of metal en route to a distant moon without the least bit of control over the trip turned his stomach.
“I never tire of space travel,” said Ivan rab Rurikid, “though I fear I take it for granted these days. Your father has me bouncing across the system every week it seems.” He nodded appreciatively at Symeon. “It’s refreshing to travel with someone seeing these things for the first time.”
Symeon knew there was more to the older seneschal’s nod than mere acknowledgment. The gesture carried freight, part of it a kinship Ivan now felt between them since he had shared his beliefs on managing their Shorvex masters. A month ago, Symeon would have reveled in the idea. Today, it felt burdensome—and more than that, dishonest. Ivan wanted Symeon to stifle Princess Kavya’s thoughts, in essence to censure her. While Symeon understood the need for discretion, the idea of censoring her thoughts left a bad taste in his mouth. He simply wouldn’t do it.
“Would you lunch with us, Seneschal?” Kavya asked of Ivan. She had insisted on bringing food from Yaya for their first meal aboard the Emperor Nikolai.
The portly man shook his head and bowed. “I’m afraid I cannot, Princess. Please accept my sincere apologies, but I must attend your father. He has scheduled a meeting with all his vassal clan heads. Every duke, count, and baron is aboard ship, I fear. It should be a lively event, and one that will require my presence.”
“If by lively you mean cutthroat,” Kavya quipped.
“Indeed. And it is up to your father, and therefore me as well, to referee the thing.” Ivan lifted his face to the apartment ceiling and let go a heavy sigh—the put-upon steward overburdened by responsibility.
The self-important prig who cares more for his master’s race than his own.
Unfair. Symeon regretted that thought the instant it flashed through his mind. Like Luxing of every stripe, Ivan lived according to his upbringing, his training, and his cultural expectations. Self-important he might be, but only because he largely deserved it. Few Luxing could claim the special moniker rab, which in old Rus meant something like adopted child. As a rab Rurikid, he enjoyed an elevated station, one that meant he had attained the highest approval of his masters, so much so they had elected to accept him as one of their own. By rights, having attained a seneschal position to the daughter of a grand duke, Symeon could claim that same title, but he would earn it—no one would use it for him—for years to come. Ivan had given those years of loyal service and been richly rewarded for them.
“If you or your staff need anything aboard ship, please contact one of my people,” Ivan said. “I’m afraid the ship’s captain wasn’t able to spare even a junior officer to attend you. All the naval personnel are working double shifts to prepare the Emperor Nikolai for commonwealth service, but you may rely on me as ever.”
“It’s only four days,” Kavya said. “I think we’ll manage.”
Ivan bowed. “Then I must say farewell for now, Princess. Symeon, be certain to check in with me daily. Our schedules may change with the grand duke’s whims.”
“Of course, sir.”
Ivan nodded and swept from the room, moving fast for a heavy man.
Once the ship’s doors had whooshed closed behind him, Kavya turned to Symeon. “Here I go, traipsing into the shcheritsa’s den.”
The shcheritsa, a one-and-a-half-meter-long lizard native to Phoenix, once known as the terror of lone villages in ancient times, was famed for its temperamental nature. One could live for years in seemingly docile captivity, only to launch a rampage against its keepers without warning. Armored with thick skin, jagged spines running the course of his back, and serrated teeth as long as Symeon’s fingers, the beast was a pure killing machine.
“You have nothing to fear, Princess.”
“Don’t I?” Kavya watched him closely, her silver-blue eyes intense. “Hasn’t it occurred to you, Seneschal, that this might all be a ruse?”
“How so?”
“What if the Emperor already knows who released his parley with the Bith? Never in a thousand years of divor meetings have the heirs of the aristocracy been invited to attend the divor. Is that merely coincidence, or might it be pretense? Perhaps I’m being lured into the shcheritsa’s abode with honey.”
She’s letting her fears get the best of her.
“I doubt that, Princess. Why would the Emperor raise so many questions simply to have the daughter of a grand duke attend a meeting? Everyone in the system is talking about the heirs’ attendance. It’s a convoluted means of reaching you when he could summon you any time he likes. He is, after all, the Emperor.”
Kavya grunted a laugh and turned her gaze back to the window where Phoenix had shrunk enough to hide it with her thumb. She did so, and laughed again. “Seems petty now, doesn’t it?”
“What’s that, Princess?”
“The planet, the system, our stupid squabbles over who has power. I swear to you, Symeon, all I want is peace. No innocents should die because my father covets the emperor’s throne. Part of me wants to march into his office and tell him everything I know. I want him to understand the toll his ambition will take on the people down there.”
Salvage Mind (Salvage Race Book 1) Page 9
