by K. B. Wagers
The sarcasm was surprising coming from Zin. I suspected the sharp tone in his voice was directed more at Emmory than me and so I waved at hand at my Ekam. “I assumed he’d told you while we were on our way back here.”
“It took that long to encode the files. You’ve both got incoming,” Emmory said to his partner. “I just spoke with Fenna Britlen, who confirmed that the princess left home in search of an unknown man they think was behind the death of the prince consort.”
“Why didn’t they send Trackers after him?”
“They did. A sister team. They’re in the files. Last report from them was about six months after the princess lost the trail.”
The ping of an incoming message rang in my ear and I downloaded the files. “Do I get the decode key for this, too?”
“If you behave yourself, Highness.”
I arched an eyebrow at Emmory. “You’ll learn, Ekam, I am good at many things. Behaving is not one of them.”
“Gunrunner,” he countered dryly and I grinned.
Zin’s whistle cut the air. “The director has an impressive list of suspects, most of whom we can’t accuse without ending up dead. I’m sorry to say Your Highness’s brother-in-law and nephew are on the list.”
I frowned. “Laabh, I’m assuming?” I hated that I even had to clarify, but eight years old was plenty old enough in the palace to get involved in intrigue and I couldn’t discount Taran just because of his age.
“Yes, ma’am.” Zin held a hand out. “I can give you the key if you’d like.”
I took his hand, a little shiver arcing as the data was passed. “How’d you get yours to decode so fast? This says it’s going to take ten minutes.”
“I don’t need it, ma’am.”
“Zin has an aptitude for code, Highness.” There was a quiet note of pride in Emmory’s voice. “We haven’t come across one yet he can’t read.”
“That’s handy. I could have used you a few times over the years.” I tapped him on the arm with a smile. Zin swallowed and returned it—cautiously. He was loosening up, but still wasn’t nearly as blunt as his partner.
“I need a full day to get through all this, Highness. Can I give you a report tomorrow?”
“Sure. I’ll read through it, too, as time allows. Do we have a plan here, Emmory?”
“Fenna gave me some leads, Highness. I’m going to com General Saito and ask for the Labrinis’ files. I’d like to know whatever I can about their disappearance.”
“Why didn’t the general send someone after them?”
Emmory shrugged. “There might not have been a team available. Depending on the circumstances, if the general thought they went native, there wouldn’t have been a point. If Trackers don’t want to be found, they won’t be.”
“Even by other Trackers?”
He shrugged again. “I could probably find them, given enough time and resources. But that’s another issue—they disappeared at the worst of the fighting with the Saxons. It was likely decided that we couldn’t spare the resources.”
“Because finding my father’s killer wasn’t a priority.” I wondered if that bitter wound would ever heal and fade.
“Because a lot of things weren’t a priority, Highness.”
“True.” I rubbed a hand over my forehead. “Hai Ram. It’s late and my brain is scrambled. I’m going to bed.”
“Should I call Stasia for you?” Zin asked.
“No thanks, I’ve got it.” I waved a hand at both of them as I slipped through my bedroom door. Several moments later my clothes lay in a pile on the floor and I crawled into bed with a weary sigh.
I woke up early the next morning, clawing my way free of a nightmare that involved Portis dying in my arms.
Lying in the dark, I waited for one of the BodyGuards to check on me. My heart hammered so hard in my chest that even if they weren’t linked through the palace network, they had to hear it out in the next room.
I rolled over in bed and hit the light switch just as the door cracked open.
“Your Highness? Are you all right?”
“Nightmare, Zin,” I said and grabbed for my robe. “Give me a second then you can come in.”
“No, it’s all right, Highness. I just wanted to—”
“Dhatt,” I sighed in frustration. “Come in, please.” I managed to keep most of the exasperation out of my voice as I slid from the bed and finished tying my robe. “You know what I miss the most?” Tossing the question over my shoulder, I crossed the room and curled up in one of the ornate chairs by the fireplace. The carved wood was smooth under my fingers.
“What’s that, Highness?” Zin moved away from the door, leaving it open, and dropped to a knee by the fireplace.
“Conversation. No one talks to me here. They either talk at me, or to their own damn feet. When nobody knew who I was…” I stopped and laughed softly. “Or I suppose when Portis was pretending not to know; either way I miss having people actually talk to me. It’s been almost a week since I…” I swallowed back the rest of my sentence. It sounded too much like whining to my ears.
Zin coaxed the embers back to life with a few pieces of wood. The fire wasn’t necessary, but the crackling flames and red-gold glow chased away the last bits of my nightmare.
“You knew him, didn’t you?” I said finally. “You had to have known him if he was related to Emmory.”
Zin hesitated as he got to his feet, and I noted again the stiff way he moved. Whatever injury he’d sustained to his left leg had either healed before a Farian could get to him or was so damaging they couldn’t encourage the tissue to repair itself.
“We grew up together, Highness.” He braced a hand on the mantelpiece, staring into the fire.
“Why weren’t you mad at me earlier?”
“I was, Highness. I’m just better at hiding it than Emmory.”
“Are you still mad?”
Zin looked away from the fire, tilting his head in confusion. “You didn’t kill him, Highness. He knew the risks. Portis and Emmory were like twins, despite the year separating them. Portis swore an oath to protect you with his life and he followed that to the end. Emmory and I will, too, if it is necessary.”
“Was he really eighteen when I met him?” I wasn’t sure why that was the next question out of my mouth, but it put a smile on Zin’s face.
“Twenty, actually. He always looked younger. Our families are all out in the Southern Provinces. My family owns most of the fishing fleet in the area. Portis’s mother is a spice merchant.”
“His mother…” A sick feeling landed in the pit of my stomach. “Does she know?”
“ITS notified her the day you got back. Good news is she doesn’t think Portis got thrown out of the service anymore.”
I turned my face away from him, the grief flooding back to the surface.
Zin muttered a curse under his breath. “I have a big damn mouth. I’m sorry. Highness, it has been hard. Until about four months ago even Emmory and I didn’t know what Portis had agreed to. His mother will get his death benefits and all his back pay.”
“I did kill him.”
“You weren’t responsible for his death. Portis made his choices, just like the rest of us did.”
“Portis…” I choked out the confession. “I’m sorry I messed things up. If I had taken that job like Portis wanted, we would have met up with you in Hortsmith.”
Zin nodded, confirming my suspicions, and my gut twisted again.
“I killed him, even if I didn’t do it directly. If I had taken that damn job, Portis would still be alive.”
“You can’t know that for certain, Highness.” There was such quiet confidence in Zin’s voice that I turned around to stare at him. “Portis clearly adored you. I know…” He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I know how hard it was for him to lie to you, especially closer to the end. He wanted to tell you the truth, convince you to come home. He had a great deal of faith in you, thought you would do the right thing.”
; I had no response for this; no clue what to do with this information as it all collided in my head. I didn’t want to know just how much detail Portis had gone into and I suspected Zin didn’t want to tell me even if I asked. I couldn’t be mad at Portis about the lying anymore—I’d lied to him about who I was, too.
“I’m sorry about breaking your nose.” I blurted out the apology instead.
Zin’s laughter was startled, but pleasant. It bounced off the smooth granite of the mantle and danced around like the snow outside the windows. I grinned a little in response, the knot in my chest loosening until it felt like I could breathe.
“I should have known better,” Zin said when he got his laughter under control. “It was a rookie mistake.”
“Was the leg one, too?” I regretted the question when all the amusement drained from Zin’s face.
“Highness—”
“Zin doesn’t like to talk about the leg; it brings up bad memories. He’s just too polite to tell you so,” Emmory said from the doorway.
“Does it have to do with how you got the Star?” I was in deep already. I figured there wasn’t any harm in getting that question out of the way. The way Zin winced told me enough, even if Emmory hadn’t nodded in the affirmative.
“It does. Maybe someday we’ll share that story with you.” He leaned against the bedpost and crossed both arms over his chest. “You want to tell me why you’re awake at this hour?”
I shrugged, tugging the blue silk of my robe back up when it threatened to slide off my shoulder. “Bad dreams. What about you, Ekam? Or do you just never sleep?”
“Not since I met you, Highness.”
Zin snorted. I grinned at Emmory’s straight face, relieved the awkward moment seemed to have passed.
“Actually,” Emmory said, “I was in a meeting. There’s an event in a few days the empress was supposed to attend. Bial doesn’t think she’ll be well enough and asked if you would go instead. I don’t like it, but I wanted to run it by you first. If you think it’s a good idea, we’ll see if we can make it work.”
“I appreciate that.” Actually, appreciate didn’t begin to cover it. I was thrilled that Emmory seemed to get my need to be involved in my own protection. “I need some chai before we get into that discussion, though.” Pushing myself to my feet, I sent Stasia a message with my smati. “Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you both in the sitting room?”
“Of course, Highness.” Both men bowed and headed for the door.
“Emmory?”
He stopped in the doorway, his hand sliding off Zin’s shoulder. “Highness?”
“We’ll probably do this, unless you think it’s really too dangerous. Someone killed my sisters,” I continued. “We don’t have a clue who we can trust and it only makes sense they’ll keep trying to kill me, too.”
“They won’t kill you.”
I had come to realize that tone of voice from Emmory wasn’t something to be argued with, especially when coupled with a feral dog snarl in the back of his throat. Not that I was going to argue with him—I didn’t want to die.
What I wanted was to run, as fast and as far away from this whole mess as I could get. I didn’t want to be empress. I wanted to wake up from this horrible dream, safe in Portis’s arms. But I couldn’t fucking run. I couldn’t let my sisters’ deaths go unavenged, and like it or not, I was going to be empress.
Gods help us all.
The “event” Emmory mentioned so casually turned out to be the lighting of the lamp in the public temple. It kicked off the celebrations leading up to Pratimas and could only be done by a member of the royal family. It was the only light that would stay lit the night before Pratimas, a beacon in the dark, serving as a reminder to all that the light would triumph. Shortly before the dawn on Pratimas morning, people would light their own lamps to wake the sun. It was magical to watch the spread of the flames from the palace along every street and on top of every building. I’d even heard on some planets in the empire that they lit lanterns and released them, but I’d never seen it in person.
The lamp lighting at the temple would start it all. Which meant I was up if Mother couldn’t do it.
Alternatively, I could have let Ganda do it, if the very thought of it hadn’t made the spot between my shoulder blades itch. I’d managed to avoid having to suffer her presence thanks to her busy schedule, and if I had any say about it at all, once her schedule became mine, I’d have Ganda shuffled away from the palace so I didn’t have to deal with her.
Our plan, like so many others before it, fell apart the minute it contacted reality. We’d wrapped up the briefing about the lamp lighting and I was getting ready for a full day of actual meetings when the ping of an incoming message from my mother sounded on my smati.
“Good morning, Mother.”
Her eyes seemed clear enough, though her hand shook as she reached up to smooth her hair back. “Hailimi, you are late for breakfast.”
“We’re having breakfast?”
“You’re the one who insisted. If it was so important to have a family meal with me and your cousin you could at least be on time for it.” Her annoyed sigh cut off with the disconnecting line and I muttered a curse.
“Ma’am?” Stasia paused, a twist of hair in one hand.
“Wrap it up and get me a green sari.” I looked down at my black choli and pants and rolled my eyes at the ceiling. “I’m apparently late for breakfast with my mother. Alba.”
My chamberlain came into the room. “Ma’am?”
“Did I have breakfast scheduled with my mother?”
“No, ma’am, you have a meeting with the labor union heads.”
“You’re going to have to make apologies for my tardiness. I have no idea how long this will last.”
Alba bit her lip. “Dressed like that, Highness?”
“I’m already in trouble. If I take the time to get dressed, I’ll never hear the end of it.” I raised my arms as Stasia wound the sari around me, and I took the loose end from her with a smile. “Emmory, we’re late for breakfast. Come on.”
“Yes, Highness.”
“Ganda screwed me, Emmy. Told Mother I wanted to have breakfast but neglected to let me in on the plans.” I subvocalized to Emmory as I marched down the hallway, bare feet slapping on the stone tiles. “She used to pull shit like this all the time just to get me in trouble. And I swear, if you tell me I’m being paranoid, I’ll kneecap you. You watch her when we come in the room and Mother starts in on me, watch her face and then tell me I’m wrong.”
I wasn’t sure why I so desperately needed my Ekam to believe me on this, or even why I was convinced Ganda was bad news. My instincts were screaming at me, and they were rarely wrong.
Mother looked me up and down as I came in the room and curtsied, her silence a deafening disapproval broken only by Ganda’s greeting.
“Haili! Good morning!” She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed. “You look wonderful, so nice to be able to buck trends and just slap clothes together, huh? Let’s take a digital. Smile.” Pressing her cheek to mine, she held up her hand, taking the photo with the tech embedded in the tips of her fingers. “I’ll post it on Hansi.”
I barely, only barely, kept from punching Ganda in the kidney before I disentangled myself from her. “Hansi?”
“All the rage, you should get your chamberlain to set you up an account. I’ll send you the link since you’re not on it yet.”
My smati pinged with her words, revealing the picture with a caption “So happy my cousin is home!” and I resisted the urge to shoot Ganda a dirty look. “Good morning, Mother. Sorry I’m late, our briefing ran long.”
“We didn’t wait for you,” she said, returning to her food. “However, at least you’re being responsible.”
I swallowed back my snarky reply, Admiral Hassan’s words from earlier still echoing in my ears. Whatever was plaguing Mother now, she’d tried to do the right thing and the least I could do was make things easier on her. I sat down, sm
iling at Emmory when he pushed my seat in for me. He nodded back and settled near the window in parade rest.
“Briefings are exhausting, aren’t they?” Ganda asked, plopping back into her own chair and arranging her cream-colored skirts before she picked up her silverware again.
“They’re interesting.” I glanced past her at the screen on the far wall. Mother was old-school and, rather than keeping up on things with her smati, had always preferred having it up on the wall of her apartments. It did make things a little easier in terms of keeping everyone in the room in the loop rather than having to explain what you were looking at.
I tuned out Ganda’s prattling and focused on the news story currently running. It only took me a few minutes to find the same story with my smati so I could actually hear the audio.
“… joining us in the studio is noted historian Juna Manne. Her book, Stars in the Night, was on the Empire Bestseller List for twenty-two months. It details the assassination of Prince Alix and how that influenced the empire’s policy in the final years of the Saxon war.” The news anchor smiled at the camera. “Juna is here today to talk with us about the worsening tensions with the Saxons and what it spells for Indrana.”
“Hailimi.”
I hit record and blinked. “Yes, Mother?”
She set her cup down, the china rattling a bit as it hit the saucer. “I asked how Admiral Hassan’s visit went. Nal mentioned that you spoke with her.”
“Is my Dve reporting on my activities?”
Mother waved the comment away. “She mentioned it in passing to Bial. I’m pleased you’re taking an interest in our home defense; just remember not to meddle.”
Stuffing food in my mouth seemed a better response than the words I wanted to say.
“Haili,” Ganda said. “I was thinking of having a dinner party for you. It would be a good way to meet the eligible bachelors in the capital. Would tomorrow night work for you, or should I get with Alba to see what your schedule is?”
I wondered what the reaction would be if I threw my knife at Ganda’s smirking face, decided against it only because it’d make me really late for my meeting. “Tomorrow night won’t work.”
