by K. B. Wagers
“Yes, I know.” She pulled her hands out of my grasp, waving them in the air. The ring on her trembling finger winked and flashed in the sunlight. “Stupid child,” she muttered. “The lighting of the sacred flame was permissible even with the mourning for your sisters, but if anyone found out you were mourning a husband—and a commoner at that.” She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Shiva help the condemnation that would rain down on our heads.”
My brief moment of sympathy was lost and I’ve never had to fight so hard not to punch someone in my whole life. Mother was relatively coherent this morning, but so deep in her role as empress that all she could see was how this would affect her rule. I wasn’t even going to press her on just why she thought people would condemn me for something like that in this day and age.
I tried to tell myself that was fine, it was what I’d hoped for, and it didn’t cut me to the bone. It didn’t matter that Portis and I had never actually married—anyone who knew that was dead.
“Fine.” Mother was lost in her own political world, unaware of my misery. “You may have your four months, but you are not to mention a word of this to anyone else. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mama.” I folded my hands together and pressed them to my forehead. “Do I have your permission to involve myself at Court?” I asked formally.
“Yes, now go on so I can eat my breakfast in peace.” She waved an irritable hand at me, so I got up without another word.
I curtsied low, then left the room, giving Bial a sharp nod on my way. I’d gotten what I wanted. Four months was the traditional mourning period. Hopefully by that time I could figure out what to do about this whole heir business. I’d gotten her approval to participate in Court—which I took to mean I could involve myself in anything I wanted.
And I’d fucking trade it all just to see Portis smiling at me again.
Halfway back to my rooms, the doubt that had been assailing me over Mother’s dementia slammed into me with the same force as one of Johar’s side thrusts. I spit curses into the air, grabbing for Zin when my knees gave out and I stumbled toward the wall.
“Highness!”
“I’m all right,” I gasped, even though it was a lie. I wasn’t all right. I’d never be all right again.
“Cas, find Dr. Satir.” Zin didn’t listen to me, scooping me up and striding down the hallway to my rooms.
“Zin, put me down.”
My struggles almost earned me a broken nose, when Zin nearly dropped me on my face. He recovered enough to set me on my feet and I staggered for my bedroom, slamming the door when he tried to follow.
The awful thing I’d just witnessed replayed in front of my eyes, overlaid on a memory. Mother’s ring, flashing in the sun, the sparkle trembling in a distinctive rhythm. The way her cup had rattled in the saucer—once, twice, a third time.
“Well, this ended badly. I really thought we had something special.” I raised my hands carefully, keeping them well away from my guns.
“Give me the money, Hao.”
“You shoot her and I will peel the flesh off your body one centimeter at a time. After Portis is finished with you.” Hao sounded pissed more than anything. I couldn’t blame him. This piece of trash was messing with our already tight timetable.
The gun pointed at my right eye shook. Once, twice, a third time—the quick, rhythmic fluttering of an AVI-junkie.
“You’re angel touched, Jones,” I said, clicking my tongue. “How much longer do you have?”
“Shut up. Shut up!” His hand steadied, then repeated the distinctive tic that gave the drug its street name—Angel Wings.
Through the hazy memory, I heard Emmory just outside my door. “You left her alone?”
“She shut the door in my face,” Zin replied.
“Next time kick it in.”
I reached up and twisted the knob, opening the door before Emmory could do just that.
“Highness?”
I gestured at him to turn on his jamming device. “You’ll be pleased to know Mother has agreed to a postponement of my duty to provide the empire with a daughter and has given me permission to involve myself at Court once more.”
“We’re alone,” Zin said.
“She’s got flutters.” I got to my feet and pressed the back of my free hand to my mouth. “Oh, holy—Emmory, Mother doesn’t have dementia. She’s addicted to AVI.” The flutters appeared in long-term users, when rapid degeneration of the nerves set in and their bodies started failing.
“You saw it?”
A jerky nod was my only answer as terror crawled over my skin. She couldn’t possibly be using intentionally. Someone had to have been dosing my mother with AVI for long enough that she was now in the end stages of addiction. Someone had to still be dosing her, or she’d be suffering from major withdrawal.
Amanita virosa indus. A fungus found on the planets in our home system similar to a poisonous strain found on Earth, but small doses only caused hallucinations rather than death.
Some enterprising soul had discovered that concentrating the mushroom concentrated the mind-altering effects of the drug. Mixing it with a counteragent removed the immediate deadly ramifications, but long-term exposure still resulted in death.
“Highness, sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit down. I want to kill someone. She’s not a junkie, Emmory. This is my mother. The Empress of Indrana. Someone is dosing her. It’s the only explanation.” I grabbed on to my anger, using the heat to burn away my frozen fear.
I got the Look in reply then Emmory sighed and pulled a SColt 45 from under his jacket.
I had a heartbeat to panic and another to feel utterly foolish when Emmory flipped it around and handed me the gun.
“I saw the recording of the attack. You’re right, Highness, you’re safer armed. There’re ammunition packs in the other room.”
“That cost you a lot to admit, huh?” I took it. “I just said I wanted to kill someone, Emmory. Giving me a gun probably isn’t the best of ideas.”
“I second that.”
Emmory shot Zin a look. “I trust you, Highness. Don’t shoot anyone who’s not trying to kill you, and for gods’ sake, just kill them. Don’t shoot pieces off them.”
“Zheng Quen was fibbing, Emmy. I didn’t shoot his toes off one at a time because he insulted me.”
“True. I believe the reason for it was because he tried to kill you, ma’am.”
I tucked my tongue into my cheek and dipped my head in acknowledgment. That actually wasn’t the whole truth either. Quen had tried to kill Portis because I’d snaked a deal out from under him. We’d just left Po-Sin’s employ, and I knew that without a reputation for violence, we’d be space junk before the year was out.
When I’d found out about the hit on Portis, I’d visited the man Quen had paid to kill him first, and then I paid Quen a visit.
Civilized people gasp and shake their heads at the story, but I don’t regret it one bit. Gunrunning is as far from civilized as you can get—short of maybe the SpaceBoxing League. I could have killed Quen for what he’d tried to do, but live people spread your reputation around a hell of a lot faster. It bought us the space we needed to build our own business up without looking over our shoulders all the time.
After that incident, only the truly idiotic tried to cross us.
The gun Emmory had given me was a magnificent piece, matte black and compact enough I could hide it under a decent sari. I’d always liked the weight of the SColts but they were more appropriate for land use. Firing one on a spaceship could cause all kinds of problems, and not just for the person who got shot.
“You’re being surprisingly sanguine about Mother.” The weight of the gun in my hand calmed me down.
“The idea that someone would try to kill your empress-mother wasn’t completely discarded,” Emmory said.
“The fact that whoever’s behind this actually managed to start with her is worrisome,” Zin admitted with a grimace. “Ven was right to be para
noid.”
“He’d heard some unsettling rumors, Highness,” Emmory supplied before I could ask the question. “The kind of things a BodyGuard hates hearing. It worried him enough to send Ofa and Tefiz to meet with us.”
“Speaking of BodyGuards, do we have to tell Bial?”
Emmory nodded his head. “I can’t keep it from him. Dr. Satir will insist, and even if she didn’t—”
“He could be part of the plot. How else could they have drugged her, Emmory?” I dragged a hand through my hair and hissed in frustration.
“If Dr. Satir didn’t catch it on any of her scans, Bial might have missed it also,” Emmory said. “It doesn’t show up on normal tests. That’s why it’s such a popular drug. No one would think to check for something that common.”
“Which is why they picked it. It’s a perfect plan.” Zin muttered a curse, winced when Emmory smacked him, and apologized. “This is getting worse by the minute. I don’t like it.”
“Right there with you,” I said.
“Agreed,” Emmory said at the same time.
The three of us shared a grim smile.
All it took was a simple test to prove me right. Dr. Satir’s horrified look told me the answer before the words left her mouth.
“I don’t understand, Your Highness, I didn’t—”
“You didn’t have a reason to look for it. Either of you.”
Bial shook his head. “Very kind of you, Highness, but this is my job. I should have thought—” He broke off and rubbed a hand over his face. “How long has it been going on?”
“It’s going to be impossible to pinpoint when she started ingesting it. I would need to know what kind of a dose she’s been getting to even guess at a timeline.”
“How bad is the damage?” I asked.
Translation: When is my mother going to die?
Dr. Satir paled. “Highness, as you noted, the shaking is a sign of nerve degeneration. Her liver is failing and so are her kidneys. The paranoia will only get worse.”
“A Farian?” It was a stupid question to even voice. The last desperate gasp of a grieving daughter.
“You know they can’t heal things like this,” Emmory said.
He was right. Farians weren’t magicians. Their powers encouraged the body’s natural healing ability, speeding it up, nothing more. They couldn’t reanimate dead tissue, repair dead nerves, or stop my mother’s brain from slowly unraveling.
Bial cleared his throat. “Highness, we will need to convince your mother to abdicate the throne as soon as possible. We cannot risk having her—”
“You”—I whirled on Bial and the man actually backpedaled—“will not convince my mother to do anything! You are her BodyGuard. A task which you have failed at, I’ll add.
“My mother is the Empress of Indrana, sick or not. I will speak to her and she will make the decision to abdicate the throne herself. I will not bully her like a child. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.” Bial bowed his head.
“Dr. Satir, come with me.” I waved a hand at her as I headed for the door to Mother’s bedroom.
“I take it you’re done talking about me?” Mother was propped up in her massive bed, looking like a ghost against the mound of purplish pillows. Her hair was down, silver-black curls falling around her shoulders. “You look like someone’s killed your dog.”
“If I had one, that would cap things off nicely.”
Mother laughed, but it quickly dissolved into coughing. I fumbled at her bedside table, pouring her a glass of water. Now that I was looking for it, I spotted the patterned flutter of her left hand with ease and it broke my heart into pieces.
“I swear sometimes it’s like your father is talking out of your mouth, child. He was such a smart-ass.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hush, Haili. Now, what’s going on?”
“Majesty, you’ve been quite ill for some time now—”
“You’re being poisoned, Mother.” I shot Dr. Satir an apologetic look. We were lucky that Mother was coherent right now; I didn’t want to run the risk of that changing with a long explanation.
Besides, I’d want this kind of news straight without a lot of dithering and I knew she would, too.
“We don’t know how and we don’t know how long,” I continued. “We do know it’s AVI.”
“That awful drug the commoners poison themselves with every day?” Mother rolled her eyes. “Apparently my enemies have a sense of humor.”
“Dr. Satir can tell you the specifics if you want. It’s not good, Mother.”
“Of course it isn’t. I expect I will get worse?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dr. Satir whispered.
“Well then, I will meet with the Matriarch Council and announce my abdication. You will be there, Hail. I’ve just sent Tye a message to fill her in on what’s going on. We will announce it immediately to quell any rumors. Tonight would be best. We’ll plan for your coronation after Pratimas, though. I don’t want to interfere with the holiday.”
I exhaled a shaky breath and Mother smiled.
Then, just like a veil had been pulled over her face, her smile faded and she frowned at me.
“Haili, how many times have I told you and your sisters not to play dress-up in my clothes? You’ve made a mess of my closet and your father will be back any moment.”
Oh, bugger me. My heart crashed into the floor.
“I’m sorry. I’ll get it cleaned up.”
“You do that. Quietly. I’m exhausted and I want to rest my eyes before your father gets home.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I backed out the door, nearly running into Tye in the process.
“The empress called me. Her message said she was going to abdicate the throne?”
I shook my head, unable to say anything without the tears coloring my voice. Thankfully Dr. Satir stepped in, explaining in a hushed voice what had just happened. Tye was equally on the ball. She had been with my mother for almost five years, and it seemed that little could shake her.
“Highness, the empress was supposed to sit in on a military briefing in half an hour. That will obviously be impossible.”
“I’ll do it.”
Tye nodded sharply. “I will get together with Alba and figure out what to shuffle out of your schedule so you can meet with the Matriarch Council. I can have Admiral Hassan get you up to speed before the briefing starts.”
“I’ve been following discussions somewhat, but I’d appreciate that.” I glanced down at the relatively plain blue dress I’d talked Stasia into this morning and sighed. “I’m going to need to change. Please tell the admiral I’ll meet her…” I fumbled. “Wherever we’re supposed to be.”
Tye didn’t even crack a smile. “I’ll send you the location, Your Highness.”
“Thank you.” I left Mother’s rooms, my BodyGuards trailing behind me.
“Ma’am, you will want to breathe or you risk passing out,” Emmory murmured. “Your heart rate is through the roof.”
“I am panicking, Emmy. You’ll just have to deal with whatever alarms are screaming in your head.”
Not that anyone except my BodyGuards could have guessed my state of mind. My face didn’t show the slightest evidence of my fear as Stasia helped me change. I was back out the door and striding across the palace to the conference rooms in under ten minutes, which had to be a record of some kind.
It was a good thing I didn’t have a chance to think. That the little girl in me couldn’t stop and mourn, wail over the loss of her mother. It was a good thing I was a gunrunner, trained not to show any fear.
If I stopped for a second, I was going to lose it.
“Your Highness.” Admiral Hassan met me at the door. “Thank you for stepping in on such short notice. Chamberlain Tye informed me the empress is indisposed and asked if I would give you a quick briefing.” She cracked a tiny smile and shrugged one slender shoulder. “Before the briefing as it were.”
If the admiral was at
all curious about my sudden appearance or my attire, she didn’t show it. My dress was white, the three-quarter-length sleeves tight with no frills or lace to speak of, and my sari was the same blood-red one I’d worn to temple.
It was the sort of thing my mother would wear. The sort of thing an empress would wear.
“Today’s meeting concerns some recent developments with the Saxons and our shared border. There have been some difficulties of late.”
By difficulties, she meant the Saxons were chipping away at our border worlds while we sat by and did nothing about it. I didn’t mention that and instead accepted the file the admiral sent me.
“I’m going to wander over here and read this,” I said, waving to the corner of the room. “You can introduce everyone when we get the briefing started.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What do you think, Emmy?” I murmured as I skimmed over the file. “Should I announce the news and see what kind of reaction we get?”
“Unwise, ma’am. You still need approval from the matriarchs to take the throne.”
“I’m her blood.” Even as I protested, I knew he was right. It was a simple formality for the Matriarch Council to acknowledge my mother’s abdication and approve of me as the empress, but that didn’t mean that someone couldn’t object.
Especially given that until I returned, Ganda had been dealing with them as though she would take the throne. I swallowed the curse. Tough luck for her. I wasn’t leaving my people in Ganda’s spoiled, selfish hands.
“They would need a concrete reason to deny you, Highness. The rules of succession are in your favor.”
“I need to know what the atmosphere is before I go into that meeting. Alba?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Gather what you can. I won’t need you while I’m here. There’s a two-hour gap between this meeting and the one with the council. Luck hasn’t been with me lately, but maybe we could figure out an angle of attack in that time. Maybe Ganda won’t protest at all, if—”
I snorted back a laugh, drawing several looks from the military members filing into the room. I ignored them and sat down in my mother’s seat.
