By the time she finished her heart was pounding and her breath had gone short. Mercedes pressed a hand to her belly and leaned against the hallway wall struggling for calm. Worried, Ian broke protocol and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Should I take you to Dr. Mueller?”
“No. I’m all right. Silly to be upset.”
“Really? You watched your father be killed in front of you. You’re going to have to imprison your sisters. You’ve got the weight of the throne on your shoulders. I’d be worried if you weren’t upset.”
She stepped away and, realizing what he had done, the military man snatched back his hand. “I need to return to my office.”
Rebuked, he stepped back and bowed. “Of course, Highness.”
Mercedes stretched out her hand, not quite touching him. “Ian, it’s all right. But everything is different now.”
“I understand.”
* * *
Boho sat at Mercedes’ right hand at the head of the very long dining room table and studied the extended family. Seven of the nine sisters were present. Only three of those assembled were childless, and Mercedes—he gave a satisfied glance at her softly swelling belly—was working on alleviating that situation. Only two were unmarried. When you added together the husbands, plus his sisters and their husbands, and any child over the age of fifteen, it meant that there were twenty-six people at the table. Thank God he had no brothers or it would have looked like the mob at a fútbol game.
The younger children were all under the care of human nannies and relegated to the family quarters, which brought the count of people related by blood or marriage to the crown to some forty-three individuals. He spun his wine glass between forefinger and thumb. A lot of potential plots and intrigues. He downed his wine and held out the glass to the Hajin footman, who was quick to refill it.
The subjugated alien races outnumbered their human masters by probably ten to one. Hovering on the edge of concern was the missing Cara’ot. What had they been doing in the intervening years since they’d vanished from League space? Given all of those factors Boho understood why humans, through the levers of government and the church, had pushed for large families, and made childbearing a woman’s highest duty and honor.
But when you had a hereditary aristocracy that carried its own problems. What did the third, fourth, fifth, sixth son of a noble family have to look forward to? Marriage to the third, fourth, fifth, sixth daughter of a noble family? Without a war it was tough to make a name and a fortune through military service. Plum assignments such as planetary governor would always go to your older brother. You could beg the family for enough money to go into business, but never obviously. You had to find some willing intitulado to front for you. No member of the FFH would willingly be associated openly with the sordid business of buying and selling for crass profit. Maybe gentleman architect or gentleman farmer, horse breeder, artist, composer was acceptable, but most of the professions such as lawyer, doctor, accountant would earn you a pitying look and a dismissive sniff.
He thought about all the families, all of the children jockeying for position. They couldn’t find enough Goldilocks planets to satisfy this growing horde. In his history classes at the High Ground, Boho had studied the Earth kingdom of Saudi Arabia with its ever-expanding number of princes. Eventually it had collapsed, when the oil ran out and Earth belatedly realized they needed to move to sustainable sources of energy. The more Boho analyzed the situation, the more he became convinced that the League was facing the same outcome. The system was not sustainable. It was a Ponzi scheme. Question was whether it would survive his lifetime? He glanced again at Mercedes’ stomach and amended. He needed it to survive through his son’s lifetime as well. He would prop up the system as long as possible, and if it looked like it wouldn’t stand he needed to have a plan in place in order to survive the chaos.
29
FAMILY MATTERS
It had been long and arduous. At hour nine Mercedes had given in and asked for a spinal. Now three hours later she lay limp, exhausted, and bathed in sweat. The spinal was starting to wear off and she was aware of the grinding pain in her crotch, the shivering in her belly, and her aching breasts. A lusting screaming was emerging from the outraged infant as a nurse wiped away the blood and mucus from his body.
“A beautiful little boy, Your Highness,” Mueller said with satisfaction.
“Does my husband know?”
“I’ve sent someone to tell him. Do you want to see the consort?”
Mercedes glanced down at her body, the sagging skin of her now empty belly. “Not like this. Thank God he didn’t want to be present for the birth.”
Mueller laughed. “Or be one of those annoying men who go about announcing to everyone that we’re pregnant. No, you’re not! I am and it’s not all that pleasant.”
Mercedes laughed and then groaned. “May I have my baby, please?”
“All done,” the nurse said and brought her the now dry but naked infant. She gazed down into his red wrinkled face and felt her heart squeeze with emotions she couldn’t begin to identify. But mingled with the joy was a tinge of worry. She brushed the fuzz on his head. Pale brown. Boho’s hair was jet black, but perhaps her dark brown hair could cover for it and recessives could account for some of that. Eye color. She prayed they would be brown, though with Boho’s green eyes it was possible he wouldn’t find it odd if his son’s eyes were gray or hazel.
His rosebud mouth began pursing and sucking. Mercedes laughed with delight and placed him to her breast. After the pain—bliss. She closed her eyes. Welcome, my love. I will never let anything hurt you.
* * *
“I hate you all,” Tracy sighed.
“You have to do this,” Jahan said. She was leaning over him, her hands braced on the arms of his captain’s chair. They were eye to eye. The rest of the crew listened with interest.
“Why?”
“Because you have a title now, because every member of the FFH has been summoned to the coronation, and because the entire crew will kill you if you don’t go and take us. To be on Ouranos for a coronation would be amazing. And you should be able to get us at least a decent place to stand on the route to the cathedral.”
Nearly a year had passed since he and Mercedes had parted. Tracy tried to prevent himself from obsessively checking the news feeds when they weren’t in Fold, but hadn’t been all that successful. He had read about the coup, followed the trials, felt a grim pleasure when Mihalis and Sanjay had been convicted and sentenced to be executed. Appeals were pending so it would probably be years before they actually faced the noose. Sanjay’s eldest son had been sentenced to twenty years, Arturo was going to jail for thirty.
Tracy and Arturo had been classmates at the High Ground. Arturo had frequented his dad’s tailor shop for his uniforms and formal wear. He would be seventy-five when he emerged, broken, his life at an end. Tracy didn’t feel an ounce of sympathy. He had barely avoided spending decades in jail and even with that reprieve his life had been shattered. Tracy couldn’t remember if Arturo had been one of the assholes who had acted as a second for Boho at their duel, but whether he was or not he was one of Boho’s cronies so he could just suck it.
Then in September had come the news of the royal birth. Prince Cyprian Amadeo Marcus Sinclair de Arango had entered the world on September twenty-third. The family portrait released a few weeks later showed Mercedes seated with her son in her arms while Boho leaned solicitously over the back of the couch and gazed down lovingly at them both. It had been a punch in the gut that had sent Tracy down to the hold to pound on the punching bag Luis had installed.
He pulled himself back from bitter memory and fruitless hope. “Look, I may have a different name, but I still look like me. I’ll be recognized. I went to school with some of these pendejos.”
“We can dye your hair,” Dalea offered.
“Grow a beard,” Luis added.
“Pack on a few pounds,” was Graarack’s suggestion.
“Hum
ans rarely see past what’s right in front of their noses. They will be expecting Caballero Oliver Randall. That is what they will see,” Jax said in his pedantic way.
“And after all the tumult of the failed coup don’t you think SEGU is going to take a hard look at anyone in the FFH who doesn’t show up?” Jahan said. “We’ve continued to trade with Hidden Worlds. We can’t survive close scrutiny.”
“All right! All right! We’ll go.”
Graarack laid a claw on his shoulder. “On the bright side, you’ll get to see your father.”
* * *
“Well, this is certainly an improvement over the last time I watched you getting a fitting,” Cipriana said.
Mercedes glanced back over her shoulder to where her friend sat on the chair at the dressing table. The long, slim, dark fingers were playing among the jars and bottles, picking them up and setting them down without ever actually looking at them. The years had evidently not dulled Cipriana’s nervous energy.
Mercedes turned back to the three-way mirror and studied the creation with satisfaction. Unlike her first disastrous wedding gown, which she had refused to wear and which had ultimately been replaced by a gown designed by a woman, the designer of this dress was also a woman and her creation was flattering to a forty-five-year-old female who had just recently given birth. It was a deep ruby red and black diamonds flashed and sparkled at the hem and the cuffs, and outlined the high-standing collar that framed her face.
The Isanjo seamstresses completed the final pinning of the hem, and the young designer stepped forward. “If I may, Highness,” she said and gestured toward the bodice.
“Of course, Jeanine.”
She gripped the side seams. “We’ll do a refit the day before the coronation, Majesty. You keep losing weight.”
“Thank god,” Mercedes murmured. “This baby weight is stubborn as hell.”
The three human women shared a knowing laugh, and even a couple of the Isanjos giggled and nodded in agreement. Jeanine unzipped the gown and it fell around Mercedes’ feet. She stepped over the mass of material, and Venia held out a robe while Jeanine gathered up the dress.
“Thank you all,” Mercedes said, and waved them away. She settled onto the bed and looked around the suite that had once belonged to her father.
“Different room though. When I tried on that first horror that Vasilyev had designed I was still in my old rooms here in the palace. It seems like an age ago,” Mercedes sighed.
“It was an age ago. We were twenty-one and stupid and had no idea what life was about to unleash on us.”
“Yours doesn’t seem to have turned out so badly,” Mercedes said.
“I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about you. How are you? Really?”
Mercedes glanced around the room at the mirrors, paintings, and tapestries that had replaced her father’s choice of wood paneling. “The nightmares wake me up most nights, but that works out well because I can feed Cypri.”
“Nursing yourself?”
“During the day I’m too busy so it’s nice to have private time with him.” She couldn’t control the smile. “He’s amazing, Cipri—” She broke off and laughed. “I just realized you have the same pet names.”
Cipriana made a face. “I’m glad you’re happy, but God I’m so glad I’m finished with puke and diapers and tantrums. Right now I just have eye rolls from Hayden. I just can’t wait for Fiona to join him in teenage ennui,” she said drolly. She paused and added, “Still, I wouldn’t mind meeting the future emperor. Make sure he knows I’m on his side.”
“Of course.” Mercedes jumped to her feet and hurried to the door that connected her suite to the nursery. Cyprian lay in his crib, plump hands stretched up toward the sparkling mobile of stars and planets that hung overhead. He was making small baby language sounds interspersed with happy laughs.
His nanny, a plump human woman in her early thirties, dropped a curtsy. Mercedes had interviewed thirty women before settling on Elizabeth. She had been a school teacher before obtaining a nursing degree and so far Mercedes was very pleased with her.
She moved to the crib and Cyprian gave a crow of delight at the sight of his mother. Mercedes picked him up and pressed him to her breast. The milky smell of baby and talc rose up, and his soft curls tickled her chin. She gave him a kiss and handed him to Cipriana.
Practiced hands cupped his bottom and the back of his head and Cipri held him up so she could inspect him. He gave her a toothless smile. Cipriana shot Mercedes a sharp look. Mercedes returned it with a bland one. Cipriana gave the baby a kiss on one rosy cheek and handed him back.
“Very nice, Mer. You did good.”
“Do you need anything, Liz?” Mercedes asked as she rocked back and forth while Cyprian’s hands tangled in her hair. It reached just past her shoulders now and she had decided to cover the gray now that she was empress. The League needed to see their ruler as fit and vibrant.
“We’re good. Robrecht has promised to deliver a small Christmas tree today. Our little prince will get to have his first Christmas right here in the nursery.”
“Be sure it’s on a table. I don’t want him getting into any tinsel or decorations,” Mercedes warned.
“Yes, ma’am.” Another curtsy.
Mercedes reluctantly laid her son back in his crib. His little face crumpled momentarily, but she touched the wind chimes that hung at the other end of the crib and the music brought back his smile.
She and Cipriana returned to her rooms and she started to dress.
“So, where’s Constanza gone?” Cipriana asked. “And what happened with Julieta? Tell me all the gory details.”
“My stepmother has removed to the Phantasiestück. She wanted Carisa to live with her, but I spared Cari that. She’s got my old rooms here at the palace. Julieta is in a women’s prison in San Jose.” It was a small city some seventy kilometers from the capital.
“Harsh.”
“Necessary. She would have poisoned her children’s hearts. The younger ones have been fostered to loyal retainers. The eldest daughter got married off to one of Davin’s sons.”
“Lucky him. I predict a lifetime of blue balls for the young man,” Cipriana observed. “And what about the rest of the del Campos, those who aren’t facing execution or jail time?”
“A writ of attainder has been issued. They’ve been stripped of their titles and holdings.”
“I take it back. Julieta got offeasy. So, you have a bunch of pampered nobles thrown out into the cold hard world to find paying jobs.”
“I’m told it’s character building,” Mercedes said.
They sat in silence for a long time. “So,” Cipriana finally said. “How does it feel?”
“I know I should probably say something profound like uneasy is the head that wears the crown or some other literary allusion, but truthfully… not that different. I’ve been picking up a lot of Father’s tasks for the past four years. What’s been brought home to me is that I can no longer shift the blame or dodge the responsibility. Wasn’t there some ancient Earth ruler who said something about bucks stopping with them?”
“Must have been messy with all those deer in the Oval office,” Cipriana quipped.
“You’re quite impossible.” Mercedes leaned down and kissed Cipriana on the cheek. “Thank you for saying nice things about my baby even though I could tell you think he’s just a blob of protoplasm right now.”
“A very important blob.”
“Come to dinner tonight, and bring James. I’d like to meet this compliant husband of yours.”
“We’ll be there. How formal is this gathering?”
“Just old friends tonight. A time to reminisce and remember.”
“Absent friends?” Cipriana asked.
“Yes. Those too.”
* * *
“My lords, how may we serve you?”
The words were a bit slurred by the pulled-down mouth and the overly obsequious manner. A fist seemed to close around his heart
as Tracy observed his father’s dragging right foot and the shrunken right arm. Alexander’s hair had gone completely white and was so fine pink scalp could be seen through it. As always he was impeccably dressed in one of his own bespoke suits. The shop itself was perfectly appointed with a lush white carpet underfoot, recessed lighting to allow a patron to study himself in the three-way mirrors, and a sofa and coffee table where refreshments could be served.
Tracy, partially obscured by Luis, glanced at his image in one of the mirrors in the fitting room. His hair had been dyed black but Dalea had added silver to his temples. He had grown a short beard and mustache that were also dark and streaked with silver. Ceasing his workout regime had resulted in him gaining twenty pounds with rather horrifying alacrity.
None of it fooled his father. “Tracy. Tracy.” His voice broke and he staggered a bit.
Tracy leaped across the intervening space and caught Alexander in his arms. “Yes, Dad, it’s me.” He blinked back tears.
Luis looked away. Jahan and Dalea were supposed to be playing the role of faithful servants to human masters, but the charade ended when Jahan gave Luis a sharp whistle and a jerk of the head to indicate in no uncertain terms that they should decamp.
“We’ll get a cup of coffee and be back in an hour or so, okay, Captain?” the Isanjo said.
Tracy could only manage to nod. The trio left. His father brushed the tears from his wrinkled cheeks, cupped Tracy’s face with his good hand. “You look well.”
“Even accounting for paternal prejudice that’s a whopping lie,” Tracy said.
The Hidden World Page 30
