by J. M. Page
“The prisoner isn’t in his chamber.”
The Queen howled, shrieking as she threw the communicator across the room. She thrust a finger in Hunter’s face, frothing as she screeched, “You!”
He couldn’t help but smile, silently thanking Snow for trusting him. For getting his father out. Even if it meant they’d never be reunited after all. At least his father would live.
“I should have killed you weeks ago!” the Queen raged on, turning back to the throne. “I should have made your puny heart explode without a second thought. But now—” Her laugh was that of a madwoman’s: unhinged and deranged as she whirled on him, a device of her own in hand. “Now I’ll make up for that lack of foresight.”
“You should have done it sooner,” Hunter said, freeing the device from his pocket and pressing the button in one quick movement.
The shock of electricity felt like lightning ripping his heart apart, hotter than the flames of a supernova, but mercifully, it didn’t last long before death embraced him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Snow
“We got him, he’s safe,” the man on the screen said. One of Beaver’s men — Sarge someone called him — looked to Snow to make sure she’d heard, and when she nodded, he turned the screen off and tucked it away.
She blew out a heavy breath. “So far so good,” she said, her fingers toying with the blaster holstered at her hip.
“Are you ready, Princess?” Sarge asked. He was a big man, not quite human. Something more reptilian, but his voice was gentle despite his massive bulk. Beaver himself was not joining them. He remained back at the Rusty Brew where he could direct his men if needed.
Snow nodded, taking her place at the head of the crowd. The murmurs and chatter died down and she cleared her throat.
This one’s for you guys, she thought, turning her mother’s ring on her finger. Hopefully they would be with her today, ensuring victory.
“For too long we have lived in fear. We have hidden ourselves, we have watched our loved ones ripped away from us. We’ve witnessed the horrors of unchecked powers and today is the day that it ends.”
A cheer rose from the crowd, bolstering her. “This is not what my parents wanted for the Empire. The Empire of my parents was a prosperous one, where citizens were encouraged to travel and know their neighbors. My father would not stand for this justice and neither will I!”
Another cheer. The crowd started growing restless, the time to act was upon them.
“Today, we fight for our freedom. My father led the charge against the invaders in the outlands, he defeated a great evil there and now another evil has taken root in our very palace. I know in my heart that he would be here beside me today if he could be, but we will take back the throne in his honor. Who’s with me?”
The roar from the crowd was deafening. “For the Empire!” she cried.
“For the Empire!” the crowd echoed.
She led the march toward the palace, Sarge and another man of equal size flanking her, weapons drawn. They reached the palace gate and the two guards there nodded, stripping off their insignias and joining the fray. More of Beaver’s men. She was lucky he’d done such a good job infiltrating the palace.
The guards at the door were another story. They fired shots into the crowd before she could even make out any of their faces. But the guards only numbered in the dozens and her mob was in the hundreds. Her followers weren’t as well armed though, and as the shots fired into the crowd, they began to fall all around her.
Snow fired back, searching for an opening, somewhere she could squeeze past the guards to get to the Queen.
Reinforcements came, protecting the entrance at all costs. They fired shots indiscriminately into the crowd and Snow heard the cries, the groans, and the sounds of her comrades falling to the ground. The smell of charred flesh mingled with the electric tang of blaster shots and the air filled with sounds of anguish and agony. It only strengthened her resolve. The Queen was going to pay for this.
“Princess,” Sarge said, dragging her away from the front lines, “the kitchen entrance is unguarded. Come with me.” She kept firing until they were out of sight of the front entrance.
All at once the guards and all of the crowd that weren’t from Beaver’s crew, stopped, their arms twitching, their faces screwed up in confusion.
“The chips!” someone cried. “They’ve been disabled!” A fierce war cry erupted from them. Another victory.
But it wasn’t the one that mattered to Snow. If the chips were disabled, that meant Hunter had done his job.
You crazy noble idiot. If you die I’ll never forgive you.
“Hurry, while they’re distracted,” Sarge said, tugging her by the wrist. Snow ran after him, close on his heels. The sharp zing of a blaster shot rang through the air and Sarge stopped abruptly; Snow didn’t have enough time to stop herself from colliding with his back.
He fired back at the attacker, one hand clutched over his stomach, dark green blood seeping through his fingers. “Go,” he said, his voice thready as he fired behind her again. “Go!”
She took off, feeling like a coward. A shot grazed her arm, but she couldn’t slow down. Didn’t even notice the pain as she barreled on, hating that more people were dying for her sake. But she couldn’t think about it. Not now. Not when Hunter needed her.
She burst through the kitchen door, startling the cooks, but when she drew her blaster and swept it around the room, no one tried to stop her from proceeding.
The blueprint of the palace came back to her like she’d never left. She knew all the secret passageways, all the hidden doors that took her straight to the throne room without being seen. She was finally home. But it wasn’t hers yet.
“Just hang on a little longer,” she prayed, dreading what she’d find when she finally found Hunter. Blood trickled down her arm and dripped to the floor, but it escaped her notice. There were more important matters at hand.
She kicked the door open, her blaster trained in front of her, daring anyone to try and stop her now. But there was no one to stop her. All the guards had been called to the defense of the entrance.
Snow spotted Hunter crumpled on the throne room floor, the Queen sitting idly in her throne, looking bored. Her heart clenched and she forced herself not to look at him. Not to think about the worst-case before she knew for sure.
“It’s over Irida,” she said, stepping closer to the throne.
The Queen still seemed unfazed. She rolled her eyes and tutted. “Still such a foolish little girl. Did you really think it would be that easy?”
Snow pursed her lips. None of this had been easy. “Surrender now and I might let you live out your life in prison,” she said.
Irida laughed. “You’re so much like your father. I killed him, you know, and I’ll kill you too. You think you’ve won, but this isn’t over.”
That was supposed to throw her off, Snow was sure, but it wasn’t a surprise at all. “I’m not a little girl anymore and I’m not afraid to blast you until you’re unrecognizable.”
“Sweet, stupid Snow. You think I’d let that happen?” Irida reached for something at her side and produced a handheld device that glowed bright blue. Snow didn’t know what it was, but she wasn’t going to wait to find out either.
She fired the blaster, shooting the disc and scorching the Queen’s hand in the process.
“You stupid ungrateful child,” Irida hissed, stalking toward Snow with venom in her eyes. Snow held her ground and the door behind them burst open, the crowd pouring in. Members of the Guard were among them, some defected, some in restraints. Irida screeched and hurled obscenities at them all and Beaver’s men wasted no time taking Irida into custody. Her animosity only gave them greater pleasure to do it.
“This isn’t over!” she howled as they carted her from the room. But it was. They’d done it.
The crowd was already celebrating, but Snow pushed them all to the back of her mind, dropping her blaster and falling t
o her knees at Hunter’s side.
Her fingertips went to his neck, finding his pulse weak, but there. “Hunter,” she whispered, her hand cupping his jaw, tears filling her eyes. “Hunter, we did it.”
His eyes fluttered, his voice barely there as he said, “Good shot.”
She laughed, her tears falling to his shirt, blooming into huge wet spots all across his chest. “I told you my aim’s fine.”
“How’s my pretty face?” he rasped, wincing as he tried to sit up.
“Perfect,” she said, bending to kiss him, unable to stop smiling even as more tears fell.
“Go ahead,” he said. She frowned, her brow furrowing.
“Go ahead, what?”
He turned his head and Snow knew. She kissed him once more before she stood and took her throne.
A roar came from the crowd, loud enough she thought they might shatter the windows.
They’d come a long way since Zomer, but now it was time for the real work to begin.
Epilogue
Snow
Two Years Later
The crowd was still cheering as the newly-crowned Queen Snow exited through the door. She closed it behind her, leaned against it and sighed, smiling.
“You made it,” Hunter said grinning in his sharply-tailored military dress uniform. He stepped toward her and slipped his arms around her hips.
“Mhm, I did. So did you, General.”
He looked away, bashful, but the grin stayed there. They’d come a long way to end up at this point. Endless debates, revisions to laws, and a complete overhaul of the government at-large. There had been countless appeals from people wrongly imprisoned, reparations made to the families of those slain under the Irida’s regime, and monuments erected to those lost in the battle. Snow wanted to make sure that what Irida had done could never be done again. She happily forfeited some of her own power to ensure the integrity of the Empire.
It hadn’t all been easy though. There were pockets of resistance, planets that wanted to be out of the Empire all together. She’d let them go without a fight. Snow didn’t want to rule over anyone without their consent.
So the Empire was smaller now, and they’d held their first parliamentary elections just a week ago with rousing success. She was sure her parents would be proud of the new democratic slant they’d adopted.
“You’ll have to tell your father that he did a brilliant job on the flowers,” she said, their lips so close to touching.
Hunter’s eyes gleamed. “You haven’t seen the ballroom yet.”
“And what awaits me there?”
“A surprise,” he teased, kissing her lightly.
She sighed. “Is it terrible that I already want this day to be over?” Planning her own coronation had been exhausting enough — she’d scoured records in the archives to make sure it was keeping with tradition. There weren’t really any people left who’d planned them in the past. Irida had made sure of that. But as exhausting as all the planning was, the event itself was a hundred times worse.
After a week’s worth of rallies, dedications, and parades, she’d had to stand for hours in front of a massive crowd — tens of thousands of people came from all over the galaxy to witness it — in a heavy gown, reciting oaths and promises in between military displays and encouraging words from members of her cabinet. And now that the hard part was over, there was the ball. A huge party for the political elite, military heroes, friends, and family that would likely stretch late into the night.
Just thinking about it made her want to crawl into bed with Hunter and sleep the day away.
He chuckled. “No, it’s not terrible, but I think you might end up disappointing a few people.”
She slumped forward, resting her head against his chest; the steady familiar beat of his heart always soothed her. The chip was still there, no one wanted to risk removing it, but it was benign now, no danger to him at all. When he’d disabled it, the shock had actually induced a heart attack, but Hunter pulled through. He was resilient like that. Great at surviving.
And when the rest of the Empire realized the chips were dead, it had sparked a wave of rebellion against what remained of the Queen’s Guard. The people were the real heroes of this, and she’d never forget it.
“I guess you’re right,” she finally said with a groan. “Five more minutes?”
He shrugged. “I’m not going to force you to leave my side,” he teased. “But you know someone probably will.”
She laughed. “And I know who that someone will be.” Tanna, co-owner of the Rusty Brew, as it turned out, had worked for the palace back in the days before Snow was born. Back then she’d been an assistant to Queen Adriana’s personal assistant, so she had more knowledge about the day-to-day operations of the palace than Snow ever did. She was an invaluable addition to the staff, but a strict taskmaster all the same.
“I just can’t wait for this all to be over with, when I can finally sit back and breathe again. Maybe take a vacation.” In the past few months, they’d begun the reconstruction of the Summer Palace. Maybe they could visit for a while when it was complete.
Hunter looked away, fidgeting. She knew that look. “What?”
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“Hunter,” she said in a warning tone. He couldn’t fool her. She’d known him long enough now to recognize when he had something he wanted to say.
“I knew you were too busy with the councils and meetings and the coronation, so I didn’t want to bring it up…”
She narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips. “Just tell me, you goof.”
He took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over her mother’s ring. She hadn’t taken it off since they day they recaptured the palace. He still had her father’s, too. She never did let him give it back.
“I was just thinking… Maybe it’s time we make this thing official?” he asked, sounding hopeful as he reached for her other hand, holding them both.
“This thing…? Us?” she asked, her heart suddenly in her throat. Was he asking what she thought he was asking?
He nodded. “Yeah, us. Don’t you think it’s time we got married? I’ve been saving a particular bottle of wine for the occasion.” His golden eyes glittered, playful, happy, but lurking in their depths there was an undercurrent of uncertainty. Of worry. He thought she might reject him.
What a ludicrous worry.
“The Avuuna Gold?” she asked after pondering his question for a moment.
He seemed exasperated that that was what she focused on. “Yeah. Good luck for newlyweds, remember? Seemed a shame to waste the luck.”
“I think we’ve been pretty lucky,” she said, grinning still, and still not answering his question.
He growled. “You’re going to drive me insane. Will you marry me, Snow?”
She lifted herself up to her tippy toes and kissed him. “Of course I will.”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, he sagged with relief, sweeping her into his arms and peppering her with kisses.
“I hoped you’d say that.”
A knock rang through the door, sharp and swift. “Your Majesty, it’s time for your entrance,” Tanna said.
Snow rolled her eyes, giving Hunter another quick kiss. “Duty calls. Be my escort?”
He gave an exaggerated bow with a flourish. “It would be an honor.”
Tanna was knocking on the door another time when Snow pulled it open and the other woman almost fell forward. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure you heard me.”
Hunter chuckled. “We always hear you.”
Tanna started leading them toward the ballroom, rattling off the itinerary for the rest of the night, but Snow didn’t pay any attention. She focused instead on the feeling of Hunter’s hand wrapped around hers, the warmth he created in her heart. She never would have been able to do any of this without him, and now she’d never have to. He’d always be there, and that was more than she could ever ask for.
The grand doors to the ballroom swung
open and the lights fell, a spotlight appearing on the pair of them. Tanna urged them in and Snow stepped forward just as the room came alive with glowing flowers.
Others noticed, too, some murmuring about the display, but almost every eye stayed on her. Snow didn’t care that everyone was watching. She turned to Hunter, saw him positively beaming with pride and flung her arms around his neck, kissing him again.
The murmurs turned into quiet laughter, even a whistle or two, and Hunter’s face turned bright red. “Thank you,” she whispered. He squeezed her hand, still looking sheepish. It was about time she made him feel tongue-tied and giddy for a change.
