“Were there others I missed?” Lark asks.
“Huh?”
“Between Judica and Edam?” Lark lifts one eyebrow.
I shake my head.
“Why weren’t any of the others between the two of them?”
“I don’t know.” Edam was head of Judica’s personal guard and trained her whenever Balthasar wasn’t available. There should have been more of the two of them than anything else.
No matter the reason for the lack before, watching them fight now is illuminating.
“He’s better than her,” Lark says. “No question.”
“It’s not a tremendous margin,” I say, “but it’s solid.”
“It’s consistent,” Lark says. “And watch how he moves her where he wants her, like he’s setting up a chess game.”
She’s a great fighter, but he can definitely beat her. If I was forced to place a bet on Judica’s fears, I’d say her biggest must be that I’ll return with Edam as my champion. She has to know she can’t defeat him, and knowing that changes things. If it has occurred to her that I might take Edam as my Consort, she would know she can’t win that fight. Will she patiently wait for me to convince him? Or am I in danger here?
Maybe the bigger question is, since Edam wants to step in for me, and Inara thinks I should let him, why can’t I come to terms with the idea?
Because I’m not good enough to rule. If I can’t even defeat her on my own, there’s no way I can make the hard calls alone. And maybe I shouldn’t.
Until a few days ago, I never had to do anything on my own. Mom took care of everything, and that was just fine with me. I don’t want to order people around or judge people or execute them. I don’t want to fix every problem or determine the course of humanity, but I picked up that stupid ring and the world exploded. Mom looked at me differently, and somehow, I started to think about things with new eyes too. If Edam wins this for me, how will I ever become some epic queen from prophecy? No one lines up to follow an empress because she married well.
Edam doesn’t understand what actually scares me. Mom left a legacy almost a thousand years long. I’d be a little greasy spot in history. It’s not death that scares me. It’s that I really may be what Judica has claimed my entire life: worthless.
Lark’s voice snaps me away from my trance. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.”
Which doesn’t matter. Late to a human school. Late to pretending to be someone I’m not. Or is this really who I am? Should I always have been born to this normal, human life? Maybe it’s where I will finally belong.
I walk passively to the car that’s waiting for me. Frederick smiles, but I don’t feel like talking, so I stare out the window.
“Was that all the videos?” Lark asks.
I shrug. “I think there was maybe one left.” But they’re starting to blur together, if I’m being honest. Edam defeating Judica, one carefully measured move at a time.
“Even so, you don’t find something until you find it.”
I sigh and pull out my phone to watch the last one. I’m unsurprised when it’s another training session with Edam, but this video begins before the actual fight does. Edam stands, back ramrod straight, while Judica walks around him like he’s a piece of artwork she’s admiring.
She touches his face. “You’re really very beautiful, you know,” she says. “You might be prettier than I am.”
He is, but he doesn’t seem pleased by the compliment. A muscle near his temple strains.
“I could pick anyone.” She circles him completely, until she faces him again. Her hand traces the line of his brow, drops to his jaw. “Mother made sure she bought every available male over the past thirty years when she decided she might have another daughter. She wanted me to have options.” She smirks. “Sixty-three men in Alamecha right now ranging from fourteen to forty, all of them available to me, eager to spend time with me.” She leans closer and I have to strain my ears to make out what she says. “Begging to make heirs with me.”
Gross.
It suddenly strikes me that they aren’t dating yet in this video. I knew things started relatively recently, but I hadn’t known the date when she chose him. I look at the video date stamp. January 6. I was with mom in Budapest hosting the democracy summit. Most of the evians haven’t embraced Mom’s democratic model, even though she’s proved again and again that greater freedom for humans results in greater productivity. Judica couldn’t come because the Empress and Heir never attend the same event unless we are hosting and can control every aspect of security.
Early January and they aren’t together yet, but Judica’s tone is light, flirtatious almost. “Did you wonder why you’ve been called in to train with me every day for the past few weeks?”
“No, Your Highness, I did not.”
She laughs. “You’re so gorgeous, you aren’t even surprised. Of course I’d choose someone arrogant like you.” She touches his cheek and he flinches. Almost imperceptible, but it’s there. “I admire your confidence.” She laughs again and I’m surprised because it sounds real. “Don’t be afraid of me, Edam. You can defeat me in the arena, and that may be the thing I like best about you, because you never need to fear me, not like that. Which means you could actually be, well, almost a partner.”
His back is ramrod straight.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“You’ve chosen me?” No emotion in his voice. The man in the video is so different from the Edam I know that I almost wonder whether he’s hiding a twin.
“Yes, I suppose I have.”
He inclines his head and continues to look straight ahead.
“Does that please you?” Her voice quivers a little, almost like she’s nervous. I’ve never heard Judica sound nervous in my life.
“As Your Highness says, you have dozens of men to choose from. It pleases me that you believe I am the best option.”
“Loosen up, Edam! You’re so formal all the time.”
Edam turns to face her, but then the video feed doesn’t catch his expression anymore. I desperately wish I could see it. “You have only to tell me what you need, and I will try to give it to you, Your Highness.”
She frowns and stamps her foot. “Well, for today, just give me a good fight. Can you do that?”
Moments later, the stars align in my head and I realize something. Something that’s been gnawing on my subconscious for days now. The thing that’s been eating at me is the underlying melody. I couldn’t read Judica’s melodic line because she was never really trying, not before she started fighting Edam. Someone exerting themselves half-heartedly isn’t fighting pure. But now, now I hear it, like waves of music crashing in my brain while I watch. Fury, anger, rage, all of them notes, chords, runs. Judica brims with hatred, anger, jealousy, bubbling over inside of her, but underlying all of it, despair. It floods her entire being. She might be able to defeat Edam if she could get unkinked enough to flow. Edam accused me of pulling my punches. Judica never pulls a punch, but her reach is hampered by her repressed emotion.
My fingers itch to hold a blade. If I could fight her now, I would do much better.
I close my eyes and think of the videos I saw. Judica stands just before me, lips in a pout, eyes sparking. I hear her melody now, but I’m so full of sorrow for her, for me, for both of us, that I can’t even imagine swinging a sword. Tears stream freely down my face. The music fills my head and my heart and I know exactly how to take her down. I hear my melody, strong, true, clear, and know just how I should move. My arms suddenly sweeping upward in an arc, then down in a strike. My leg kicks out to throw her off balance and I’m swinging over, under, slicing up.
I’m rolling down a street in New York City at thirty miles per hour, no sword, no dagger, no opponent, but I feel it, every cell in my body humming with an unwritten tune. My mom was right. I was ready to go off book. Hearing recorded melodies would be a nuisance, because the real songs lie within us, within each person, in their mov
ements, in their words, in their goals and failures.
Of course, we reach the school at the very moment I have my big epiphany. I wipe my eyes before Lark can tell Frederick to circle. I breathe in and out deeply. I can’t cry right now. Later, but not now. At least I’m dressed better today. My v-neck green t-shirt and blue jeans look like everyone else’s clothes. Even though the weather has been unseasonably warm for New York, it’s chilly here in March, so I brought a brown leather coat too.
I wave to Freddy before Lark and I walk through the door. The first bell rings, and we jog toward our classes. I slow down right before I walk through the doors for calculus. Mr. Mansfield inclines his head and I swear it’s like a mini-bow. I wish he didn’t know who I am. I wanted to get away from all the drama, not find myself submerged in evian politics lite.
“Put away your books and papers and get out a pencil. It’s time for the test,” he says.
I glance around. A girl with red hair taps her pencil rhythmically on the desk. A boy with dark, russet eyes bites his lip. But Logan smiles at me broadly, peeking around Noah to do it. Great. Now he knows he’s my, what is he? My great nephew or something? So much for a normal human experience.
Papers are passed around and I hunker down to take my test. I’m not sure quite what to expect. It’s my first written exam, ever. When I mastered French, Russian, and German, Mom took me to a meeting of the Security Council at the UN’s Headquarters in New York. I had to make small talk with people in all three languages in a conference room overlooking the East River.
This test should be a breeze.
I glance around at the students around me, scritching and scratching away. Noah sees me looking around and glances up at Mr. Mansfield. I follow his gaze. Our teacher’s engrossed in something on his computer.
“Here,” Noah whispers. “You can look at mine.” He slides his test near the edge of his desk.
He thinks I need to cheat!
I shake my head and bend over my test. The nerve. Like I’d need help from a human.
“Okay, students, your time is up. Pass your papers to the right. We will grade each other’s papers, but then I’ll go over them and assign partial credit for wrong questions in which you showed your work. Hopefully you’ll learn something from reviewing these while you still remember why you did what you did.”
Noah scores my test. His face looks absolutely shocked when he hands mine back with “100%” scrawled across the top. I notice when he gets his paper back from Logan that he missed one, but I don’t gloat.
That would be rude.
Noah and Logan walk with me to PE again, but this time I know where to go. I walk quickly to the girls’ locker room to change. I brought my own shoes, too. I’m learning. Raven’s talking to a tall brunette with freckles and green eyes when I finish changing.
“Rebecca, have you met Lisa?” Raven asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Nice to meet you.”
She and Raven start for the gym doors and I follow.
Lisa says, “I hear you’re on the team. Congrats. Are you coming to today’s meet?”
“Anything that gets me out of history,” I say.
“You knew all the answers yesterday,” Raven says. “So it can’t be that bad.”
The human definition of success seems to be a situation where you learn absolutely nothing, but tout your superiority over others. It’s strange. To me, the fact that I knew all the answers demonstrates the futility of the exercise.
Noah and Logan are already stretching when we reach the track.
“We can use you for sure,” Lisa says. “Claire and I are terrible runners, and we’re dragging Noah and Logan down.”
“Truth,” Logan says.
Lisa snorts, hops up, and starts to jog. I follow her. She seems to be jogging pretty easily, which is good news for our team.
“Where’s Claire?” I ask.
“She’s ‘out sick’.” Lisa makes air quotes. “Claire got bumped to alternate by Coach yesterday. She’s a little annoyed, but she’ll come around.”
“Oh.” I feel even worse now. “That’s too bad.”
“Don’t feel guilty,” Lisa says. Her voice drops to a whisper. “She’s awful.”
I don’t know what to say, so I focus on jogging slowly, consistently, like a human would. I don’t do a very good job, because two laps in, Lisa’s practically panting next to me. I slow down. “Sorry.”
Lisa laughs. “You run like a freaking robot. Are you about done? We aren’t supposed to run more than a mile today, since it’s the day of a race and all.”
“Sorry.” I slow to a walk. “Is our team any good?”
“Logan’s amazing and Noah’s pretty decent too. They kind of drag the rest of us along.”
“Noah and Logan seem pretty nice.”
“Nice?” She looks at me sideways. “Logan is, I guess, if he likes you, but I’ve never heard Noah described as nice.”
“No?” I think about him taking pity on me in my odd clothing, showing me around, and even offering to let me cheat. He had no way to know I didn’t need it. Nice is precisely the word I’d use.
“No.”
“Okay. Care to elaborate?” I ask.
“Noah’s smart, he’s hot, and he’s uber rich. He’s not even nice-adjacent. Good news is, if he’s being nice to you, that means he likes you.”
“So he’s usually a jerk?”
“Nah, not a jerk per se, but arrogant and stand-offish and elitist? Definitely.”
“Arrogant isn’t always bad.” I think about... well... every single evian I know.
“I suppose he has reason to be. His dad owns, I dunno, like all of China or something.”
“Really?” I try to pretend I didn’t already know. “He doesn’t look very Chinese to me.”
“With those big blue eyes, you mean? Well, I’ve seen his parents at some school things, and his dad does.” She laughs. “But his mom looks like a movie star. A white movie star. But no matter how he looks, he’s like the richest guy at our school, and at Trinity, that’s really saying something.”
“Huh.” Interesting. She knows almost as much as Alora. I could’ve just asked Lisa. I wonder what it’s like to have a life that’s an open book.
“Trinity’s crawling with rich kids, though. And once you get past a billion or so, what’s the difference? Logan’s dad owns the biggest computer company in America, and Tawnya’s mom runs the second biggest software company. Anna’s dad’s a five-star general and her mom runs a huge security firm. Conflict of interest, much?” Lisa smirks, and wipes sweat off her forehead. “Comparatively, my dad’s shipping business is almost embarrassing.”
“I doubt that,” I say. Lisa seems genuinely kind. “I’m sure your parents are wonderful.”
“I said almost.” She grins. “We do alright. What about your parents?”
“They’re both dead. I never even met my dad, but Mom died last week.” Silence. Awkward, awkward silence.
“Oh,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
Well, that effectively shut down the entire conversation. I clearly suck at girl talk. Lisa slows down and I speed up until I’m lapping her and everyone else, too.
“Hey, Rebecca,” someone yells.
“Rebecca,” someone else grabs my arm. “That’s enough,” Edam whispers in my ear.
I’m the only one still on the track. I finished my race day warm-up laps, and kept on going. A little too fast, judging by everyone’s expressions.
“Dang,” Noah says. “We are so winning today.” His smile nearly cracks his face in half.
After all the excitement of PE, I’m glad to be leaving school by third period.
Trinity may be the richest school in New York, but we still ride in a little yellow school bus to the track meet. I’m sitting on a seat alone, waiting for all the students to arrive, when Edam sits down in the seat across from me. “So, turbo racer, everything okay?”
I blush. “I got distracted.”
“You need to pace yourself next to someone today, and it can’t be Logan.”
“I know, Alora told me. He’ll probably be pacing himself against someone else.” I sigh.
“Not saying anything here, but on your second full day as a normal kid, you’re running faster than any professional athlete.”
I shrug. “What can I say? I dazzle people.”
“You dazzle me.” Edam’s blatantly staring when Noah and Logan climb up the bus stairs.
“Uh hey, Adonis, you okay?” Noah asks. “You’re kind of creeping me out. Home girl’s like, what? Seventeen?”
I laugh. They’re right, of course. By human standards, Edam’s way too old for me. And if we weren’t both going to live another thousand years, the age difference might creep me out.
“Coach Renfro was just giving me some tips,” I say. “Thanks, Coach.”
Lisa drops into the seat in front of us and turns around immediately to flutter her eyelashes at Edam. “I’d love some tips.”
“Oh,” Edam says. “Okay, well, let’s talk about pacing.”
Edam must have done his homework while I was studying calculus. There’s no way he even knew the basic rules of cross country before we came to New York.
“So, we all run our own race?” I ask.
Lisa nods patiently. “It’s technically a team sport, but really it’s just scored in teams. You run the race yourself, and every single person on the team could win individually, you know, by getting the best time.”
“So, you get the most points for the team by getting the fastest time?” I ask.
“Just run fast,” Edam finally says, clearly suppressing a smile. “That’s all you really need to know. Later this week we’ll start training all of you on pacing and whatnot.” He winks at me. “But if you run like you did in today’s warmup, we should be fine.”
We arrive at the meet and I realize for the first time it’s not just a single school we’re running against. “Wait, how many teams are here?”
Displaced (The Birthright Series Book 1) Page 24
