“Symeon?” Kavya looked concerned. “Are you well? You’re wearing the strangest look.”
“Sorry, Princess. I’m afraid you caught me woolgathering. It won’t happen again.” Symeon busied himself with resetting the holo to display the entrance ceremony. The twenty-two dukes and their emperor formerly gathered around the ornate wooden table in all their finery teleported across the room to form a line, Kavya’s father in the lead.
Stupid? Getting his princess not merely exiled but imprisoned by her father’s command was stupid. Burdening her with knowledge she didn’t require that might prompt her into a foolish decision; that was stupid.
Treating Kavya like a dullard goes beyond stupid, Symeon.
“Now, Princess, please take your place by the wall and we’ll go through the entry steps one last time,” Symeon said, his voice far more chipper than he felt. He briefly considered slapping his own head, but figured the princess might notice. “Remember, you must keep your gaze up and step precisely on the beat of the drum.”
Kavya sighed and crossed to stand with her holographic father.
Do you consider the princess an imbecile?
Of course not, Symeon thought . When have I ever treated her that way?
Right now.
Symeon brought up a holographic control panel and cued the arranged divor entrance music. Drums, deep baritone calls like the rumble of tractor engines, boomed through the compartment. The holographic parade took its first step precisely on the fifth beat, each member, including Kavya, starting with the left foot. Though she wore soft slippers and a simple robe, the program dressed her in a silken gown of pearl white with sensible heels meant for both fashion and comfort. They clicked on the burnished wooden floor like the real thing.
Her face austere, her beautiful eyes unmoving, Kavya marched across the room with her fake father to their assigned places at the emperor’s table. She and Symeon waited while a holographic Ivan rab Rurikid seated her father.
You think I doubt her intelligence?
Yes!
Symeon could admit he doubted her judgment. But was that fair? She had known about the Shorvex-Luxing connection for years now, just as she had known about her father’s planned coup for several days. In both cases, she told only those whom she trusted.
Like you.
Symeon pulled Kavya’s chair out for her, making certain to provide enough room for her father’s seat. Following strict protocol, her every motion exact, she took her place behind the grand duke, her posture exquisite, her slim shoulders pulled back, her chin lifted, her head held high and proud.
She told you everything.
Yes, but only after Symeon had sussed out the details for himself. It wasn’t as if she would have divulged her secrets if he hadn’t found them in the first place.
You don’t know that, Symeon. She might have taken you into her confidence once she knew you could be trusted. But here is something you do know: she trusted you first, while you considered turning her over to Ivan. Don’t bother denying it, I’m in here with you.
“How was that?” Kavya asked without breaking her pose.
“Perfect. I believe you’re ready.”
Tell her.
Symeon shook his head as he shut off the hologram. “By your leave, Princess, I think I’ll have a bite to eat now. Shall I have something brought up to you?”
Kavya stood to look him in the eye, one delicate hand resting on the back of her chair. “No, thank you. Czarina is bringing my lunch in about an hour. I’d hate to disappoint her if I wasn’t hungry.”
“Very good, Princess. With your permission, I’ll be off.” Symeon removed his hand from the back of Kavya’s chair. They had been close to one another for hours now, yet for some reason her proximity was suddenly making him feel awkward.
“I have no intention of telling anyone about the coup, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Kavya said.
“No, Princess. I—I trust you.”
Liar.
“I know you do, and I cherish that, Symeon.” Kavya placed a companionable hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Thank you. Now, go get something to eat before your stomach starts gurgling.”
* * *
Symeon didn’t know what he would find when he reached the gymnasium. He assumed the Wuxia used it only a handful of hours per day via some predetermined schedule they had worked out with the ship’s crew. The fact that Luxing were allowed sole possession of a gym for any amount of time aboard such an overcrowded vessel spoke volumes to their influence and power. But did he think they could occupy it as long as they liked?
As it turned out, perhaps they did.
Light glowed from the windows in the gymnasium door. Symeon pushed through to find a different set of Luxing using the equipment or participating in classes than the last time. They mostly ignored him, though a few stared at his regalia.
No one fought in the cage, but several older Luxing sat around a table to one side of it, Fang among them, playing a board game Symeon had never seen.
The old man’s brows shot up when he saw Symeon’s formal robes. He started to grin, but the expression died on his lips at whatever he read in Symeon’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“You’ve asked me to lie to Princess Kavya. You say it’s in her best interest, but I’m not certain that’s true. If you expect me to go on hiding the Wuxia from her, I need to know your plans. I need to know you won’t bring her to harm.”
Hands on his knees, Fang leaned back and grinned. “You mean to protect her?”
“Yes.”
“By whatever means necessary?”
“That is my job.”
Fang watched Symeon for a moment before nodding once as if he had finally seen something long awaited. “Very well, son. Have a seat. This is going to take some time.”
* * * * *
Chapter 15
The Emperor Nikolai reached the moon, Bastrayavich, sixteen hours after Symeon’s protocol training with the princess. He had managed to avoid Kavya for that entire period by asking for permission to visit with friends. She had obliged without question, and he had spent the time studying, and sometimes sparring, with Fang and other members of the Wuxia.
The old man had much to say. Some of his many theories ran counter to the facts as provided to Symeon by Yudi—not that Symeon corrected him, that would raise too many questions—but for the most part, the Wuxia knew their heritage.
Symeon brimmed with newfound knowledge as he stood two steps back from Kavya, waiting for Bastrayavich to appear through a three-meter-tall window on the ship’s observation deck. By rights, he should have been exhausted. He had slept perhaps one hour in the last twenty-four. Yet he felt invigorated. His time spent with the Wuxia had flown by while he cross-examined Fang until the older man grew too weary to go on. Symeon hadn’t grown weary, he had grown more and more intrigued.
Eventually, duty had forced him back to his daily life, a life he increasingly resented. This was his first time traveling to another world, a living moon no less, circling the single gas giant in the Phoenix system, but he couldn’t find a speck of joy in it.
He looked around at the many blue and silver-skinned Shorvex crowded into the observation gallery and found himself suppressing a sneer. Arranged in formation by rank and standing at various stages of attention, they commanded the best spots to view the grand window, while their Luxing slaves were left to crane their necks to see anything at all. Most of them were mere servers and therefore didn’t rate a place in the formation like Symeon. This being a formal observation, it required full military bearing, even from the civilian guests, which meant the lesser slaves stood round the perimeter, their backs to the wall.
What have any of the royals done to deserve such honors?
Nothing, since they couldn’t claim their births as achievements, though Symeon wouldn’t put it past some of their ilk to do just that. They took the best in all things as their right, but did they ever question how they got there? Outs
ide Kavya, Symeon had seen no sign of introspection from any Shorvex he had ever met or served. Didn’t they wonder how their society came to be?
Most don’t, and for those who do, there is the official history.
Symeon nodded ever so slightly. Yes, the official history. He had heard it in passing all his life though none of his teachers had ever formally taught it to him. Shorvex students learned it by rote from the time they could understand language. It made their people out to be heroes and the poor Luxing little more than beasts given the precious, civilizing gift of Shorvexan guidance. Too bad they had stolen most of that history from the Luxing. It made Symeon’s insides smolder thinking about it.
A boatswain , the golden rank tab on his chest polished to a mirror shine, blew a short trill on a pipe and those gathered, Symeon included, parted in two well-timed steps to form a path between them. Through this corridor marched Captain Foix, master of the ship, next to Grand Duke Alexei Rurikid, the two shoulder-to-shoulder in lockstep. Behind them came their retainers, one of whom was Ivan rab Rurikid.
Alexei matched Captain Foix in his black and gray uniform, though the grand duke boasted a cape and jaunty hat along with far more medals and accommodations than any naval captain could expect to earn in a lifetime. As the ranking duke aboard ship—and the second most powerful man in the empire—Alexei’s position afforded him an invitation to this ceremony while other members of the peerage and crew alike settled for whatever views their cabins could provide.
Kavya stiffened when Alexei took his place next to her, though Symeon doubted anyone else noticed. She kept her gaze focused straight ahead, her face set in placid concentration, but Symeon could feel the anxiety drifting off her like smoke. She hadn’t seen her father in the flesh for the better part of three years. Symeon couldn’t imagine how that must bite at her emotions. Kavya loved her father. Otherwise, she would have destroyed him with what she knew.
Or blackmailed him.
Seeing him now, after so long and under circumstances that required her silence, must have strained the love she felt for the man. Despite a lifetime of training for service, Symeon wasn’t certain he could stand so poised as she.
“Attention to orders,” cried the boatswain once the two great men had assumed their places. At his words, the group, even the Luxing who had been drilled for days prior, stepped smartly back to their original places. The boatswain lifted a military issue comm pad. “Honorable ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here for the time-honored tradition of First Viewing, or the rising of Bastrayavich. For nearly a thousand years, our emperors have made their home on this moon. It is tradition that the master of the ship lead a party of distinguished guests in observing the first moon rise. We ask that our guests remain silent in observance of this auspicious occasion.”
“Boatswain,” Captain Foix said. “Have the helmsman right the ship.”
“Righting the ship, sir!” Though Symeon never saw the man move, the boatswain must have sent a signal to the bridge. The star field outside rotated slowly upward, the bottom glass brightening as the view changed.
“I never tire of seeing this spectacle,” Alexei whispered without looking at his daughter. Though protocol demanded guests keep silent, no one would dare call out the grand duke who literally owned every vessel in the duchy fleet.
“This is my first time seeing it,” Kavya whispered back.
Alexei’s eyebrows rose. “I never brought you here when your mother was alive? I would have sworn we came once during winter in Valensk.”
“I think I would remember that.”
Could Alexei hear the fire just below Kavya’s voice? Symeon doubted it. The man didn’t remember whether he had brought his daughter to the capital of their star system.
“Well, it’s beautiful. You’ll see.”
The crowd gasped as Bastrayavich’s most northern limb peeked over the bottom edge of the great window. Greenish-blue light flooded the observation deck as it rose higher, revealing its face to the ship. Brown and black chips of continents gradually swung into view, their features largely obscured by billowing clouds swirled by massive weather patterns. Blue oceans encased the continents, hugging their outlines, and provided a deep contrast to the moon’s atmosphere.
The crowd’s expressions of awe brought a smile to Captain Foix’s lips. Speaking out of the side of his mouth, he said, “I’ve never held anyone accountable for the silly no-speaking rule. Their outbursts brighten my day.”
As the southernmost edge of Bastrayavich appeared, the boatswain once again played a trill on his pipe. “Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes the first viewing. You are welcome now to mingle and speak as you will. Lunch shall be served by crew members before we begin transiting dignitaries to the moon below. Please ensure you and your staff are ready to move when your turn comes.”
A breath of relaxation passed through the crowd as they turned to their neighbors to strike up conversations, at least amongst the Shorvex. Symeon and Ivan, like the other Luxing, moved to stand against the wall nearest their patrons to await orders. By rights, they were to remain silent, but such rules fell lax when it came to slaves of high rank so long as they remained attentive to their masters.
“I trust you’ve enjoyed your first time aboard ship, my boy?” Ivan asked without shifting his gaze from Grand Duke Alexei.
“Indeed I have, sir. Thank you for asking.” Symeon too kept his eyes on their patrons. The grand duke was speaking to Kavya in a voice too low for him to make out over the crowd. Yet, even without words, he discerned much from their mannerisms. Kavya stood at an angle to her father, partially facing the deck windows, her arms folded across her belly. And though she looked him in the eye while he spoke to her, she appeared to stare through him into open space.
“I gather from the reports you sent me during your time on Yaya Island, you enjoy serving in the heir’s house?”
“I do, sir. Princess Kavya is a contentious master, kind and even-handed.”
Whatever Alexei was saying to Kavya, he had a lot of it to say. The grand duke stood straight-backed and rigid. A spare two centimeters taller than his daughter, he nevertheless managed to tower over her, his many medals gleaming.
“Do you feel lonesome there?” Ivan was asking.
“Where is that, Seneschal?”
Ivan glanced at Symeon. He looked put out, his lips squeezed into a tight line.
The island.
“Oh, the island? No, sir. Vysylka castle is filled with Luxing. I’ve made several good friends there,” Symeon lied.
“Would you count Kavya’s handmaid, Czarina Lebedev among those good friends?”
“Yes, sir.” Symeon wished the venerable Ivan would hold his tongue, though he certainly couldn’t say so.
“She is a beautiful thing, is she not?”
“Czarina Lebedev is quite attractive, yes.”
I know I’m far less adept at reading human interactions than the previous Yudi, but do you find Ivan’s mannerisms strange?
More like damned creepy. Where was the man going with this? And couldn’t he tell Symeon was more interested in watching after his patron than discussing the relative attractiveness of his fellow slaves?
Something Grand Duke Alexei said made Kavya momentarily look away from him to the floor. She drew a heavy breath that made her shoulders rise and fall before snatching a wine glass from a passing server. In all the time Symeon had known the princess, he had never seen her drink.
“You know, Symeon, there is a saying in the west of the duchy. I wonder if you’ve heard it? ‘A single seneschal is a suspect seneschal.’”
I don’t understand what he means.
“You mean to marry me off to Czarina?” Symeon blurted the words before he could stop himself.
Ivan reared back, that sour look once again creasing his features. “I hear by your tone you find her unacceptable? I understand a handmaid is somewhat beneath your position, but only if you lack your patron’s favor to court her. You would d
o well to lose some of your pretensions, young man.”
What an ass.
“I apologize, sir. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Symeon dropped his chin to show contrition.
“I fear you’ve let yourself become haughty. That is a disappointing trait in a seneschal—in any Luxing for that matter. But I do understand. You are young. You are master of the castle on Yaya Island, that makes you think yourself better than the other slaves, yes?”
“No, sir. I promise you, I know my place. I am no better than the kitchen maids, the gardeners—my service no more valuable than theirs.” Symeon struggled to keep his tone pleasant. This entire line of conversation served no purpose he could discern other than to annoy him, yet he had no choice but to placate the older seneschal.
“Why do I not believe you, Symeon?”
Because you’re the haughtiest slave ever born and you see your own faults in everyone around you?
Symeon stifled a grin at Yudi’s words. “Sir, I meant no offense by anything I said. I wish only to serve my patron. That is my life’s purpose.”
“A school room answer.” Ivan eyed Symeon. “But the right one. If you take that simple truth to heart, you will rise high in service to House Rurikid.”
You serve the princess. How much higher does he want you to rise?
“Yes, sir.”
Kavya, who had drained her wine glass while her father spoke, turned to fully face him, arms rigid at her sides. She said something sharp. Symeon could tell because several people nearby glanced her way, saw who had spoken, and just as quickly found something better to look at. Alexei frowned, but otherwise showed no sign that Kavya’s words affected him.
Symeon’s pulse raced. Had she told her father what she knew of his plans? If she had, what would that mean for her, for the Wuxia?
Calm down. Do you think the grand duke would stand there like that if she had? You’re overreacting.
Salvage Mind (Salvage Race Book 1) Page 13
