by R. C. Lewis
I turned from him to Mura. “You said it yourself the day we arrived: I’m heir to the throne and your chance at a coup. My mother tried to destroy my father’s rule from the inside. I can finish what she started.”
“Princess, no!” Kip protested. “I told you, I will not let you be traded back into Olivia’s hands.”
Dane’s eyes were still on me—I felt it—but I continued to avoid them. The new depth in them confused me, and I couldn’t look at him and say what I had to at the same time. “There won’t be any trade.”
“What precisely are you suggesting, then?” Stindu asked.
“You were right before when you said my father would insist on a trade being carried out quietly, sparing his ego. That kind of secret trade would give Olivia time to get rid of me before my return could be announced. If I’m not traded—if I return freely, in a way my father can acknowledge officially—we’ll have public fanfare and celebration. All eyes will be on the palace, and Olivia will have to be more careful.”
The members of the council exchanged glances, thinking it over. Kip still looked conflicted. “We won’t be able to hurry news of your return,” he began. “The crown controls all broadcast frequencies. We have a handful of spies left, and none positioned in the Royal City. Olivia might still get to you before the public knows you’re back.”
“Let me worry about that. And I’ll get the prisoners out.”
Stindu wasn’t finished with his doubts. “As you said, you were a child when you left. You don’t have the wealth of inside information it would take to thwart your father from so close.”
“Though you knew about the poison,” Mura pointed out. “I can’t believe Matthias willingly told you about that.”
“Of course he didn’t,” I said. Time to give up another secret I’d kept for years. “My mother told me. Well, sort of. Her notebook did.”
“Her artwork,” Kip murmured. “You had it?”
I nodded. “I kept it in that bag I took everywhere, so I had it when I escaped. Took me a while to decipher the information in some of the drawings, things she was gathering for you and hadn’t passed on yet, I guess.”
Stindu’s eyes lit up in a very disturbing way, like I’d just offered him all the merinium in Forty-Two’s mine. “Do you have it with you now?”
“No. Someone took me from Thanda without giving me a chance to pack first. It doesn’t matter, though. I memorized everything and destroyed all but the more innocent sketches a few years ago. If you want this done, you need me to do it.”
Some of the council members nodded, gesturing for me to take one of the empty seats at the table. They believed me, believed I could do it. It would work as long as I kept those shadows of uncertainty from my eyes.
“You’ll need a story,” Dane said, forcing me to look at him. I couldn’t read the stillness of his expression. “They believe we took you. If you return on your own, they’ll suspect you’re on our side.”
“That’s the beauty of the plan. I’m very good at telling convincing stories.”
His jaw set. “Better find a place in that story for one more person. I’m going with you.”
“Fine. Because the story I’m thinking of using is yours.”
The council didn’t like the idea of Dane going with me to Windsong, but he held firm. They couldn’t stop him. I didn’t know if I could. Worse, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to or not.
Yet I didn’t understand why the council couldn’t put its collective foot down to keep Dane on Candara. The dynamics didn’t make sense. The observation room up in the mountain that Dane could access, the way the council looked at both him and Kip, something about a decision for Dane to make…His family was clearly important even among the all-important First Families. But the council could still outvote Kip on matters like what to do with a runaway princess.
The easy solution was to ask, but that wasn’t easy at all. Kip kept too busy to catch, and I wasn’t about to ask anyone on the council. That left talking to Dane alone—something I carefully avoided. He’d kissed me. I hadn’t broken his nose. And that concerned me far more than the intricacies of Candaran politics. Whatever made him special wouldn’t make any difference.
Day after day of planning sessions kept me busy enough. Plotting to take over the government of a planet that was perpetually on the opposite side of the solar system from all your resources was no small thing. The people of Windsong thought a war already raged in their outlands. They didn’t realize the distance plus the iron grip my father had on the planet made such a brute-force approach impossible.
We knew Dane and I could get to Windsong. We also knew the two of us couldn’t defeat my father’s entire regime alone. The biggest question remaining was how to work Candara’s military forces into the plan.
So we hashed out details and argued about strategies. Stindu kept his mouth shut more often now, while Mura often suggested bolder, riskier courses. Lunak put Mura in check, advising caution and further consideration.
It didn’t take long for me to wonder how they ever got anything decided.
“Unless you’re suggesting we leave both Dane and Princess Snow completely on their own, I don’t see how sending no troops could possibly be an option,” Mura said.
Lunak tilted his head slightly. “I’m not suggesting that at all. I’m merely reminding you—again—that once detected by Matthias’s defenses, we endanger both of them.”
This argument had sprung up several times already and never reached a conclusion. I rubbed my temples as it got rolling yet again.
As expected, Lunak wasn’t finished. “Matthias will not react well if he finds Candaran ships in the vicinity soon after the miraculous return of his daughter. We mustn’t reveal ourselves until the proper moment.”
“Of course, but we can’t simply wait here for them to call for help. You do understand the distance involved, don’t you?”
I raised my head. “You should wait here. Or wait somewhere, anyway. The problem is that you can’t get within seven spans of Windsong without your ships’ signatures showing up, right? So launch your ships, send them to a safe point along Windsong’s orbit, and wait for the planet to come to you. Cut everything but life support. Then we just have to rig a way to shield any heat readings. You’ll be invisible until Dane and I can clear a path.”
Mura and Lunak both remained silent.
“That’s very clever, Princess,” Kip said. “It could work. The timing would be narrow.”
He had a point. Once Windsong moved into range of the powered-down fleet, we’d only have so many days before we moved out of range. “It’s likely to be narrow no matter what. I’ll also need to rig a way to contact you from the planet’s surface. Cusser’s good with communication systems. It might be able to help us find a way.”
Dane spoke up. “Essie, it means we’ll be there on our own for a long time at first.”
Back in the palace with Olivia and my father, staying alive long enough for the plan to work…I was trying not to think about it. “I’ll have to be very convincing. And there’ll be plenty for us to do before we’re ready to make our attack, right? Laying the groundwork and all that, building my father’s trust.”
Everyone agreed that my plan was the best course—or at least the one with a better-than-zero-percent chance of working. We moved on to debating what Dane and I should do and when we should try to do it, how many days to allow for each task, trying to calculate where the Candaran fleet should position itself to wait.
When Lunak and Mura geared up for another useless spur, I got to my feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get some air in the park.” Now that I was on their side, I was allowed to come and go as I pleased, and I’d decided to take advantage of that.
I didn’t make it past the foyer outside the council chamber.
“Essie, wait a second.”
Dane had followed me, and he inclined his head, silently asking me to follow him down a side corridor rather than going directly to the lift. I
followed even though it put us alone, away from the eyes of the guards.
I was terrified Dane would kiss me again. I was also terrified he wouldn’t. Mostly that he would and I’d have to hit him. Maybe.
How does that make any kind of sense?
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s fine. Like I said, just going out to the park.”
“Want some company?”
“No. Thank you,” I added quickly. “I just need a bit of quiet to settle my wits after all the talking in circles in there.”
The small smile he offered was one I hadn’t seen on him before, making me wonder when I’d started cataloguing his smiles. “Yes, they’re good at that, aren’t they? Enjoy your walk.”
Before heading back to the council chamber, he brushed his fingers along my arm. So lightly, so gently, my usual instincts to lash out didn’t surface. I focused on the tingle his touch left behind, wishing it wouldn’t fade so quickly, and nearly changed my mind about letting him join me. Nearly. But better to do this alone.
Or so I thought. When I got to ground level and exited the complex, Cusser stood waiting for me.
“Cusser will accompany Essie,” it announced.
“Oh, will you? These new instructions from Dane?”
“Affirmative.”
At least the drone was honest. “And if I told you to go shine your circuits because I’m fine on my own?”
Cusser told me to do something much ruder than shining my circuits.
“I figured. Come on, then.”
The park soothed me and made me uneasy at the same time, particularly with the playing children. Cusser kept me anchored, though, one familiar thing in such a foreign place. Maybe Dane had guessed at that when he gave the drone its instructions. The Candarans undoubtedly found the scene surrounding me commonplace. Groundskeepers tended to some damage from the latest quake—tears in the turf, small cracks in the decorative curb around a flower bed—while others trimmed the grass and added new flowers.
What was it like to live on a world where the ground couldn’t stay put more than two or three days at a time? Where instability was so normal that only a fraction of the land was habitable?
What had it been like to grow up here?
I walked along a footpath, ignoring curious glances split evenly between the drone and me, until I reached a particular bench and sat down. Cusser settled next to me, inspecting its input/output ports, while I picked at the blue satin of the clothes I’d chosen that morning. A few minutes later, a woman with gray-streaked auburn hair approached and sat with us.
“Thanks for meeting me, Laisa.”
“No, thank you. I’m so sorry I upset you the other day.”
I steadied myself, acknowledging that only part of me wanted to do this. The bigger part knew I needed it before we moved forward with the plan. I couldn’t talk to my mother; I could talk to her friend.
“You startled me, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting to run into someone who knew my mother. I wasn’t quite seven when she died. What do you remember about her?”
“I’m not sure words are adequate. Would you like to Transition?”
My hands jerked in my lap. “I’m not very good at it. And I can’t do it without touching.”
“That’s fine. Please.”
The last two people I’d body-hopped—Transitioned—had been Harper and Moray. Other than my mother, I’d never been in any head I really wanted to be in. Laisa had been Mother’s friend, though. It wouldn’t be like it was with Moray.
I reached over, lightly touching her hand. The next step was to search for the push-and-pull, but I didn’t have to. I didn’t hit an invisible wall like I had with Dane on the shuttle. So easy, hardly a thought, and I was there. Like Laisa’s own mind drew me in.
I sit quietly on the bench as the breeze wraps itself around my hair. The memory of Ametsa warms in my heart, where her daughter can feel it—where she can understand all of it.
I do, Laisa! I feel how daring she was in the face of the highest trees and walls, how brave she was when others made fun of you. This kind of friend, I’ve never felt this. I never had a sister. Your daughters—you see your friendship with my mother when they play. You see my mother everywhere, just like I hear her.
But Kip and Dane are wrong. There’s little of me there.
I pulled my hand away, pulled back to myself to catch my breath, and wiped away a threatening tear. It wasn’t the same as it had been with Moray, pushing myself, struggling to Tip him. My left-behind face hadn’t looked as blank, either. But it still took effort, leaving me with a heavy feeling in my limbs. It wasn’t natural like it had been with Mother, and that thought deepened the ache. Silence filled the emptiness inside me until I dared break it.
“And she never said anything about why she was leaving?”
A smile played on her lips at some memory. “No. Like I said, just that it was to make things better. I’d thought perhaps she was coming here to Gakoa to work in the governing complex. When I followed and couldn’t find her, I imagined she’d joined the embassy on Windsong. Was she one of those prisoners taken years ago?”
“She died before that.”
The smile faded, replaced by warm sympathy in her eyes. “I’m very sorry. I’m sure you miss her. I have, too.”
I’d felt that when I Transitioned to her. The ache in Laisa’s gut resonated with my own. Before I could admit it, her gaze shifted to something behind me, and I turned. A commotion at the far end of the footpath sent people stumbling. Someone ran full speed, heedless of anyone else. Nearly half a link away, but I recognized the jacket. Dane.
“Essie!”
I could barely hear his shout, but the tone pierced me—a tone holding all the dread of Dimwit telling me “wrong way.” I looked around and muttered some of Cusser’s favorite words; I’d been too distracted by stories and memories to notice several of the groundskeepers working their way closer to us. Six of them. One a very familiar Garamite.
Tobias had the look of someone wanting to collect a debt with interest.
I grabbed Laisa’s arm and stood, ready to run toward Dane and the safety of the governing complex.
“Not this time, Essie.”
Too late.
The “groundskeepers” dropped their gardening tools, and I spotted guns on their belts, ineffectively hidden by jackets. I knew they didn’t want me dead, so when all six came at me, I didn’t hesitate to lash out. Neither did Laisa, as she struck one of Tobias’s friends in the neck.
Maybe there was some truth to those rumors about Exiles all being fighters after all.
Six on two was still steep. Cusser tried to even the odds, engaging its new defense subroutine. It set two of its saws buzzing, keeping anyone from getting too close, and pulled a tack welder. As I gut-checked a man who swung for Laisa, I couldn’t help thinking I’d done a pretty good job with that little program.
Possibly too good. Cusser caught one of the men with the tack welder, burning a band of flesh along his thigh. The man screamed and swore—Cusser swore back. Then the man pulled his gun, twisted a setting, and fired.
I spun to dodge a right hook, so I heard before I saw. A terrible scratching squeal. The stench of melted alloys. Finally, my eyes found the source. Cusser was on the ground, a hole blasted straight through it.
All its lights were off. Dead.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t think. In that frozen moment, Tobias clipped my head and everything swam.
Hands grabbed me, pulling me along. Dane shouted my name again, closer but not close enough, and my instincts took over. I twisted and jerked, but my equilibrium couldn’t take it, so I had to give that up. Every noise pounded through my head.
One set of hands dragging me disappeared with a shout, throwing me off-balance. Another yanked me back and then shoved me away with more shouts. I stumbled and caught myself on my hands and knees. After a few blinks, I willed my eyes into focus and looked u
p.
Dane had reached us, taking on several of the men at once. I’d never actually seen him fight. When he’d pinned me in the shuttle, I hadn’t seen anything. When he’d laid Tobias flat on Garam, I’d been busy with Harper.
He moved so fast, like he knew what the men were going to do before they did. Tobias took a swing, but Dane had already ducked, twisted, and pulled one of the other men into the path of Tobias’s fist. As one man moved toward me, Dane pulled him back, spun him around, and smashed his nose with an odd forearm strike.
I tried to push myself to my feet so I could help, but then I saw Laisa sprawled on the ground, unmoving. My breath caught for the second time and my legs refused to support me. One of the men near her still had a gun in his hand.
There were too many, even for Dane. Tobias and one of his friends slipped away when Dane was busy with the others, hauling me off the grass and dragging me toward a hover transport with a tree logo painted on it.
I struggled, hoping to slow them down, but Tobias got his arm around my throat and pulled me along. I tried to look anywhere but at Cusser’s smoldering shell and instead saw Dane take more hits, making me flinch. A crew of guards raced up the path, but they were too slow, too far away.
I twisted as we neared the vehicle, trying to see how badly Laisa was hurt. Maybe it wasn’t that serious. Maybe she’d just been knocked out with a blow to the head.
Please, let that be all.
Dane dropped the man with the burned leg and one of his friends, then finally spotted me as the other two ran for the transport. He moved to follow, but they were already shoving me inside. I was too far away. One of the men fired a wild shot at him that was more than a few sniffs off target, but it was enough to stop my heart.
The door closed, and no amount of shoving or kicking could keep Tobias from speeding us away. Two of the men pinned me to the floor while the third bound my hands and feet with polymer bands and gagged me with a strip of cloth tied around my head. He pointed some kind of gadget my way and declared me “clean.” At that point, I settled down, conserving my energy for when it could do me more good.
