Behind the Throne

by K. B. Wagers

  “Very much so, Stasia. Thank you. Make a note,” I said as I wiggled into the pants she handed me. The long-sleeved shirt slid over my skin like water and I smoothed it out before I sat down so she could fix my hair. “As much as the idea of being fussed over pains me, we’re probably going to have to get a few more maids.” I shot her a sideways glare when she snickered. “You’re in charge there, Stasia. I want you to pick out a few of the younger girls from my mother’s set who can handle themselves.”

  “I’m assuming that means what I think it does, ma’am?”

  “Yes.” I smiled at her. “I suspect Emmory would like to give you a few names also and he’ll definitely want to vet them.”

  It would also give Emmory one less thing to worry about.

  Stasia twisted my hair up into a trio of knots at the base of my neck, the severity of the style not softened by the few braids she left out to frame my face. She painted a swatch of black across my eyes, then the same red-gold onto my mouth I’d donned when I first got to the palace.

  Had it really been three weeks? It seemed like yesterday. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Here, Majesty.” Stasia handed me a shoulder holster. I shrugged into it and slid the gun she handed me next into place.

  I knelt at the altar, but the chant that hissed between my lips wasn’t one for Ganesh. Rather it was to the Dark Mother, a plea for vengeance, for justice. I’d learned the chant in the days after my father’s death, clinging to it with the obsession of a teenage girl, and now it rose up out of me without any thought at all.

  As I listed off the names of the dead, I was all too aware that for every one I mentioned, there were ten more whose names I didn’t know. People—my people—who were innocent bystanders like Ramani, caught up in a vicious political game.

  “I will not stand for it any longer. This will stop,” I swore after I finished with the names of the dead. I rose to my feet, pulled open the door to my room, and crossed the threshold into the waiting area.

  I passed by Cas and Zin with a nod. The whole of Team Five stood by the door, their hands nervously hovering by their weapons. All my BodyGuards were already dressed in mourning black, red slashes of paint arching across their cheeks.

  “Are we ready, Emmory?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “Let’s get on with this,” I said, heading for the door. The remainder of my BodyGuards fell into step around me, and we strode in silence down the hallway. When we reached the steel door, Emmory pushed it open and held aside the pristine white tapestry so I could pass through.

  The throne room was packed. The throne empty, silent. Only the crown sitting on the cushion.

  The eyes of the assembled nobles locked on me, and the silence of breathless anticipation built as I crossed over the line of jagged black obsidian and dropped to one knee before the throne. I lowered my head, blinking back tears that threatened to spill over and fall to the white marble floor.

  The empress can’t let people see her cry. I remembered Father saying that to me once when I asked why Mother didn’t cry anymore. Now I knew why, and just what it had cost her to keep that stone expression in place.

  I stood and the entire assembly went down on a knee, bowing their heads to me when I turned. Looking out at the sea of faces, I suddenly felt very alone. Then I spotted Zin, who raised his head for just a second and smiled at me.

  My panic vanished and I folded my hands. “Like my mother before me, I do not suffer fools gladly. There will be no second chances for those who think to undermine my power, or the power of the empire.” I looked out over the crowd, saw the uneasy shifting as people threw glances back and forth.

  “This has been a dark time for the empire. These horrible events have tarnished the face of Indrana and brought us to the brink of war. I am here to take the throne that is rightfully mine. Those responsible for the unrest and division in our empire will be punished.” Utter silence echoed back at me.

  Zin marched a limping Nal to the front of the crowd, stopping on the far side of the jagged obsidian line. Behind them Kisah practically carried Ganda, dropping her next to Nal with an impassive look on her face. Finally Cas dragged Laabh in. My nephew was disheveled and dirty and had an impressive black eye.

  I won’t lie. I struggled with the urge to pull my gun free and splatter their brains all over the marble.

  “BodyGuard. Cousin. Nephew.” I came down the dais as I spoke. “Conspirators. Traitors. Murderers.”

  The silence in the room was absolute.

  “Lady Ganda, so good of you to join us.” I crossed the line of jagged rock and bent down. “I didn’t want you to miss seeing me crowned.” I whispered the words in her ear and watched the hatred flash across her face.

  “For waging war against the state, treason, and regicide, you three are sentenced to death.”

  That caused a ruckus.

  I let the noise swell, watching calmly as the exclamations and protests flew through the air. After counting to ten, I looked at Emmory.

  “Silence!” His amplified voice sliced easily through the din.

  “Understand these traitors are proclaimed guilty from their own mouths! There will be no trials, no courts for them. There will only be the justice of the throne for the royal blood that has been spilt and justice of the empire for the blood of its citizens. We have other names, other conspirators who can consider themselves lucky that we will turn them over to the courts. But these three…” I gestured at my feet. “These three are mine.

  “Ganda Naidu, you are hereby stripped of your titles and any inheritance you may have received,” I continued. “Nalmari Zaafir Windhausen, you are no longer considered a BodyGuard and your name will be blotted from the lists, forever forgotten for your treachery. And you, my dear nephew whose name I will never again utter, you, too, will be erased. It will be as if you had never existed, not even as a warning to those who would think to sink to such defiled depths as you have. I will wipe you from the fabric of the universe, and I can think of no better punishment for one who thought himself worthy to wear this crown.”

  The room stayed dead silent for several heartbeats, almost as if the assembled crowd couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

  “May the gods turn their merciful faces away from you.” I turned my back on them and went back up the steps, kneeling in front of Father Westinkar.

  He held up the crown for the assembled to see. “Hailimi Mercedes Jaya Bristol, recognized Heir Apparent of the Indranan Empire. Receive the crown that the gods in all their glory decreed you were destined to wear.” He placed the crown on my head and the weight of it seemed to sink into my bones, anchoring me to the floor.

  Get up, Hailimi. The empress kneels to no one. Mother’s voice rang in my memory and I fought back the cloying panic rising in my throat.

  Somehow I made it to my feet without dislodging the crown and turned to face the assembled crowd as Father Westinkar’s voice rose up to the buttressed ceiling of the chamber.

  “Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Hailimi Mercedes Jaya Bristol. Long may she reign!”

  Look out for the sequel to

  Behind the Throne…

  Coming Winter 2016

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I have the best support system a person could ask for and I’m terrified I’m going to forget names, so I’ll say it now—if I don’t remember you here I still love you and thanks for everything.

  To my husband, Don, for your unwavering love and support throughout the years, for your position as chief science advisor of the house, and for the numerous grammatical arguments (that you usually win). I love you, forever and always. To my son, Benjamin, for your excitement and for buckling down at school so I didn’t have to worry about you. To my parents, for my life and love of reading and always being there no matter what. To my sisters—blood and heart—for being absolutely fabulous. To my brothers—blood and heart—for being rock solid.

  To my critique partner and amazing friend, C. J. Re
dwine—you know there’s too much to write here. Thank you for everything. To my critique partner and shisuta, Lisa DiDio—your brutal honesty and the magical way you get my writing has made all the difference. This book wouldn’t exist without you. To my critique partner and logic checker, Ana Ramsey—thanks for always asking the tough questions. To my mentor and friend Yasmine Galenorn—thank you for all the years of support and love.

  To my agent, Andrew Zack, for all your patience as we went through draft after draft and for seeing the value of the story I was trying to tell and all your work to make this happen. I couldn’t have done any better than to convince you to represent me. To Susan Barnes, Jenni Hill, Lindsey Hall, Anne Clarke, and everyone else at Orbit Books who’ve worked to make this book amazing, thanks for your faith and your enthusiasm.

  To all those who read early drafts and provided me with valuable feedback, there’s too many names and I know I’ll forget some but I wanted to especially mention Beena, Wendy, and the Jennifers for your important and delightful commentary in the early days. To all my other friends who have so enthusiastically supported me over the years. I am very lucky to have you in my life. I love you all.

  And finally to you. Yes, you reading this right now. Thanks for letting me tell you this story.

  extras

  meet the author

  Photo Credit: Donald Branum

  K. B. WAGERS has a bachelor’s degree in Russian studies, and her nonfiction writing has earned her two Air Force Space Command Media Contest awards. A native of Colorado, she lives at the base of the Rocky Mountains with her husband and son. In between books, she can be found playing in the mud, running on trails, dancing to music, and scribbling on spare bits of paper.

  interview

  When did you first start writing?

  I’ve been writing my whole life. Started getting serious about writing novels my junior year of high school and actively attempted to get published since about 1995. If anything I’m the poster child for sticking with something if you want it bad enough.

  Where did the idea for Behind the Throne come from?

  Laying on my couch around Christmastime staring at my tree. My ornament collection is pretty eclectic, and includes a lot of tatted snowflakes and shapes from my great-grandmother, my grandmother, and my mother. A diamond-shaped design caught my eye and next thing I knew the opening pages of the story unfolded in my head. The design is tattooed on Emmory’s cheek (and on my arm) and that scene has remained virtually unchanged through all the edits we’ve done to the book over the years.

  Did you have to do any research in preparation for writing Behind the Throne?

  Nope. I do my research on the fly as I’m writing. I just let the story tell itself and go back with whatever details are needed afterward.

  There was a wide-ranging cast in Behind the Throne. Who is your favorite character?

  *laughs* This is like asking a mother who her favorite child is. But since you’re forcing me to choose I’m going to have to say Emmory. His silent presence, excellent sarcasm, and unwavering loyalty often make me wish I’d written this book in third person so that I could share more of him with the reader than just what we see through Hail’s eyes.

  What is one piece of information that you know about the story or characters that you loved but couldn’t fit into the book?

  There’s quite a bit actually that I couldn’t fit anywhere because it happened outside of Hail’s eye/earshot and therefore just didn’t work in the format I’d set up for the story. Some of my favorites though are pieces between Emmory and Zin that I wrote early on in order to get a feel for their motivations.

  Lastly, we have to ask: If you could be friends with any superhero, who would it be?

  Captain Steve Rogers is my hero. If I could have the ability to hang with him and Agent Carter I’d be a happy woman.

  introducing

  If you enjoyed

  BEHIND THE THRONE,

  look out for the sequel!

  AFTER THE CROWN

  Coming in Winter 2016

  by K. B. Wagers

  1

  The execution site was an unremarkable building in the government sector across town. The room went quiet, the rolling murmuring on the air vanished when I walked in with my BodyGuards around me. My teams were still in disarray a week out from the coup attempt that had taken the lives of too many of my Guards, so Emmory and Cas were at my sides with Zin, Willimet, and Kisah behind us.

  I was dressed in a black, military-style uniform—no sari, no mourning powder streaked across my face in a deliberate statement about the traitors whose deaths I’d come to witness. My cousin Ganda and my nephew Laabh.

  “Your Majesty.”

  Everyone in the room either dropped into a curtsy or bowed low.

  “Everyone up, please.” I moved across the room, exchanging greetings with the judge, the lawyers, and the police.

  “Majesty.” Prime Minister Phanin executed his perfect bow and held a palm out to me in greeting. “We are glad to see you well.”

  “You also. I was relieved to hear you weren’t injured in the chaos.”

  Phanin waved a long-fingered hand in the air. “I was in my offices when the incident occurred. Thankfully we went into lockdown and I don’t think I was at all on their list of targets given how unimportant my position is.”

  I didn’t have a good reply for that. Technically he was the head of the General Assembly, but the political body was more for show than anything. Phanin had no real power in the governing of Indrana. He was there to placate the masses.

  That wasn’t something I was going to say out loud.

  “Your Majesty.” Two naval officers approached, saving me from the awkward situation. Phanin murmured his good-bye and stepped away.

  “Commander Timu Stravinski.” The commander was a man with graying hair at his temples and clear gray eyes. He saluted.

  “Commander.”

  The young woman with him was barely eighteen; her eyes were dark blue and her blond hair twisted up into a smart knot off the collar of her naval uniform.

  I knew who she was before she said her name. A cousin. A member of my family—same as the woman I was about to kill.

  “First Lieutenant Jaya Naidu, ma’am.” She saluted me.

  “Lieutenant.” Ganda’s little sister wasn’t the spitting image of her treacherous sibling, but I could see the resemblance and I felt Emmory brace for a scene.

  “I volunteered to witness, Your Majesty. To spare my parents further pain. They have removed the traitor’s name from the family tree. I am not here for sympathy or to ease her passing. I’m only here to see justice done.” Jaya bowed sharply. “My family is loyal to you, Majesty.”

  “Of course. Thank you,” I murmured the reply because I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Lieutenant Naidu nodded again and left me alone.

  There was no one here for Laabh except his lawyer, who bowed low in front of me. My nephew’s father was gone, fled to the Saxons. His mother and sister dead from a bomb he helped radicals plant. His marriage family had already washed their hands of him, lest the displeasure of the throne splash back on them. There was no one left for quiet denunciations and murmured declarations of loyalty.

  I spotted Leena when she slipped in through the door, already dressed in widow’s white. There were circles under my niece-in-law’s eyes and she gripped her sari so tightly that her knuckles stood out in stark relief against her skin. What had been a social coup for her was now a nightmare.

  Murmuring my apology to Laabh’s lawyer, I crossed to the door and pulled Leena into a hug before she curtsied. She froze, startled, and then clung for a moment.

  “I left Taran at home,” she said as she stepped away. “I didn’t think it was appropriate. He doesn’t understand what’s happening.”

  “That was a wise choice. Leena, he’s still my family. Whatever his brother was responsible for having him do, we don’t hold Taran accountable.”

  We’d
retrieved some of the data off Dr. Satir’s smati and it had corroborated Laabh’s story that the AVI had been slipped to Mother in the weekly gift of lokum Taran brought her. I had to contend with the idea that Dr. Satir might have known about the drug, though that secret died with her. There were no records of the treat being scanned when it was brought and my suspicions over Mother’s still-missing Ekam were high.

  “Please don’t take him, Majesty. I’ve come to care for Taran.”

  “I have no plans for that, Leena. I received your mother’s petition and I’m in agreement with it. Taran will stay with you.”

  Leena’s eyes strayed over my shoulder toward the chamber on the far side of the room. “I loved my husband once. I’d thought he could be so much more.”

  “That’s not a crime,” I replied, watching as the bailiff escorted Laabh and Ganda in. “You’ve never seen anyone die, have you?”

  “No, I—no, Majesty.”

  I took her gently by the shoulders. “There’s no shame in looking away. This way is quieter than most, but you’re still watching someone’s life vanish right in front of you. It changes a person to witness it.”

  “You’ve seen it.”

  I felt the smile flicker to life at the corner of my mouth. “More times than a person should.” I let her go and looked at Willimet. “If she needs to get out of here, go with her.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Your Imperial Majesty and the others in attendance.” The judge was a tall, slender woman named Sita Claremont. She addressed the small crowd as the technicians strapped Ganda and Laabh onto the tables. “We’re here today to see justice done in the matter of the Empire of Indrana versus Ganda Rhonwen Naidu and Laabh Albin Bristol Surakesh.”