by Brenda Hiatt
Every room had its own color scheme, but none of them clashed. Some of the walls, like in my big office/parlor, were covered in what I first took to be patterned silk, but which turned out to be non-reflective metal sheets studded with decorative crystals.
“You can make and receive calls on any vidscreen.” Sheila indicated the largest one, back in the first room we’d entered. “Various security settings are available on each, though you will likely want an aide to screen most incoming calls.”
I nodded, remembering what Kernan had said when he gave me my omni—which was what I’d still use for really private communication, like with Rigel or Eric. If only they’d communicate!
“Shall I leave you now?” Sheila broke into my thoughts. “I trust your Handmaid is familiar enough with the standard amenities to assist with anything you might need.”
“Oh! Of course. I’m sure you have lots to do. Thank you, Sheila. We’ll have lunch with the others in half an hour, if that’s okay?”
“Certainly. You can call up a map of the Palace on a vidscreen or simply follow the blue line to the main dining room.” With another bow, she left us.
Puzzled, I glanced at Molly. “Blue line?”
“Yeah, most of the big government buildings have a guidance system like that. Makes it super easy to find the office or exhibit or whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“Oh. Cool.” I looked forward to trying it. But first, I had calls to make, one official, one not. “I’ll, um, be out in a few minutes.” I headed into my ridiculously fabulous bedroom and closed the door.
I’d never operated a vidscreen myself, but I’d seen the others do it enough times that it only took me a moment to figure out how to synch my omni with the one in my room, then bring up the little holographic pad to control it. I tapped the “vidphone” option and the vidscreen lit up, showing an attractive garden screen saver.
“Morag Teague, please.”
Almost immediately, the garden scene was replaced by the face of Rigel’s grandmother, her background surroundings blurred out—something I’d learned most people did by default when answering calls. Her expression was more pleasant than I’d ever seen it, but as soon as she spoke, I realized it was a recording.
“This is Morag Teague, Director of Sub-cellular Research. I am unavailable at the moment, but if you will leave a message, I will return your call at my earliest convenience. Thank you.”
I found the holo-button to record a message and touched it. “Morag, I would like Rigel to call me or, better, come to the Royal Palace as soon as possible.” I hesitated, wondering if I should make it a Royal order or something, but just concluded with, “Thank you.”
She had to know I’d been Acclaimed, so I was pretty sure she’d have no choice but to do what I asked. With any luck, she’d have Rigel here by the end of the day. My spirits lifting at the prospect, I next used my omni to call Eric.
Unfortunately it went to voice mail yet again, which effectively re-dampened my spirits. Without Eric’s help, I had no clue how to operate or even find the Grentl device.
After freshening up in a bathroom bigger than my whole room back home, I rejoined Molly and Cormac, trying to smooth my expression so they wouldn’t pick up on my anxiety. “Let’s go get some lunch,” I suggested as brightly as I could.
“Dining room,” Molly said clearly as we stepped into the hallway. Sure enough, a faintly glowing blue line appeared on the floor ahead of us.
“Cool!” I breathed, momentarily distracted from my worries about Rigel and Eric. Once, as we followed the line, I stepped right on it to see what would happen. Nothing. Glancing back, I saw it had disappeared behind us. How did it know? Some kind of sophisticated sensors, I guessed. The line itself was either embedded in the floor or holographic—I couldn’t tell which.
We followed the blue line around a dizzying number of turns and through half a dozen doorways, then suddenly emerged into a long, high-ceilinged room hung with six crystal chandeliers along the length of the polished black stone table that ran down the center of the room.
“Whoa. Overkill much?” I muttered, staring at the long, long table and three dozen or more chairs set along the sides. At the near end, I saw three places set for a meal, but no food yet. “This can’t be the only dining room?”
“There are several,” Cormac responded. “But as you didn’t specify, we were directed to the main state dining room, the default for visiting guests. The housekeeper clearly anticipated this, as they seem prepared to serve you here.”
I glanced at the table again. “We need two more place settings, though. No, Cormac, you two are still going to sit, since it’s just us. I promise to let you do the stand-behind thing for state functions, okay?”
“Very well.” He had stopped protesting my insistence on this while in Tullymayne, but he still looked uncomfortable with it. Tough.
Mr. O and Sean joined us then, followed immediately by two women in staff uniforms carrying covered dishes. The older one bowed to me.
“Excellency. I am Mada, head cook. I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a selection of the more popular luncheon dishes rather than delay your meal by having you specify.”
“Hello, Mada, and thank you. But I need places set for my Bodyguard and Handmaid. Yes,” I said quickly when she frowned and opened her mouth, “I know it’s not customary, but it is my preference when dining with close friends.”
She bowed again and flicked a glance at the younger woman, who instantly whisked dishes and silverware out of the long sideboard by the door and set places for Cormac and Molly. We all sat, Sean on my left, as always.
After asking me how I liked my apartments, Mr. O’Gara proceeded to carry most of the conversation, going over the details of my impending Accession and Installation, along with everything else lined up for this afternoon and evening.
I had a hard time paying attention, my mind flitting back and forth between eagerness to see Rigel and worry about Eric’s continued silence. I really needed to talk to Mr. O about what we’d do if I couldn’t contact Eric, but couldn’t think how, with Palace staff within earshot.
I’d meant to let Mada know which of the gazillion “samples” were my favorites, hating the thought of so much wasted food. But when lunch was over, I realized I’d mechanically eaten everything that appeared on my plate without even noticing what it was. As soon as we rose from the table, I turned to Mr. O’Gara.
“So when can we talk about the, um, important stuff? I still haven’t—”
His eyes flicked to the still-hovering staff. “Soon. First, the forms must be observed, beginning with your formal Accession and the Passing of the Scepter.” He glanced at Molly, who nodded. “We should have time to talk after the Royal Reception.”
“But—”
“I know. But now is not the time. Try to relax for a few minutes before your Accession. If you can.”
Back in my quarters, I retreated to my bedroom with the excuse that I needed a shower. Which I did, but first I tried yet again to contact Eric. When he still didn’t answer, I left an encrypted message, something he’d claimed I wouldn’t need to do, because he’d supposedly have his omni on him at all times. The fact that he didn’t was starting to scare me.
“Eric, I don’t know where you are or what’s going on, but in case you somehow missed it, I was Acclaimed this morning. I’m finally here at the Royal Palace, where you said I need to be, but there’s still a lot I don’t know about that, um, thing I need to do. So if you can please call me or, even better, come to the Palace, I would really, really appreciate it. Thanks.”
I glanced at my vidscreen then and saw the little message light flashing. Rigel? I fumbled with the controls, I was so eager to bring up the message screen. Seven messages were showing. I recognized the names of two reporters and a government official…and Morag Teague. Adding “find an aide to screen calls” to my growing mental to-do list, I tapped her name.
Her image appeared, then bowed to me, though
I thought her expression looked wary. “Allow me to congratulate you on your Acclamation, Excellency. Unfortunately, Rigel is undergoing necessary therapy today but I will pass along your message as soon as I speak with him again.” She bowed again and my screen reverted to the garden scene.
I remembered what Rigel had said about those “therapy” sessions, how they seemed to be trying to undermine our bond with them. I was determined that this would be his very last one. I quickly called Morag back—and again got her canned message.
I squared my shoulders, trying not to let my frustration show. “While I appreciate your concern for Rigel, Morag, I insist you bring him to the Royal Palace as soon as possible, no matter what sort of therapy you’ve scheduled for him. It’s extremely important.”
I sent that, then left yet another message for Rigel, though by now I doubted he’d ever see it. Maybe she’d found out he’d hacked his vidscreen and disabled or confiscated it. Still, after my last message to Morag, surely she’d have him here at the Palace by tonight. Tomorrow at the latest. Maybe together, Rigel and I could find and figure out how to use the Grentl device even if I didn’t hear from Eric?
With that hopeful thought to fortify me, I headed into my bathroom. Though it boasted the first real, hot-water shower I’d seen since leaving Earth, I took an ionic one anyway, to save time.
After that, I let Molly array me for my Accession and Installation, trusting she knew what she was doing when she fitted me into an outrageously sumptuous gown and matching jewelry. I couldn’t seem to stop staring at myself in the mirror, finding it hard to believe that vision in deep purple silk was really me. The dress was studded with about ten pounds of diamonds, which also sparkled at my ears and throat, and in the tiara securing my upswept hair.
“You’re sure?” I asked for the third time.
“It’s the traditional Accession gown, so yes, I’m sure,” she said with a grin, also for the third time. “We should go. Unless you want to make a grand entrance after everyone else is already there?”
“Uh, no. Let’s go.”
When we reached the Royal Audience Hall, the two elaborately uniformed Palace staff members on either side of the double doors bowed deeply, then flung the doors wide. Suppressing a gasp, I paused on the threshold.
I’d seen pictures of this room, the equivalent of the Sovereigns’ throne room, but pictures hadn’t come close to doing it justice. For one thing, it was beyond enormous, at least twice the size of Jewel’s Town Hall. And the opulence was off the charts, the walls covered with artwork and silk hangings and the ceiling painted with a huge mural of planets and stars, with what looked like real gold highlights.
At the far end, on a dais, was the cathoir—a beautifully ornate golden chair with purple velvet cushions. Actually sitting on that thing suddenly seemed ludicrously impossible…just like everything else in my life lately.
Mr. O’Gara and Sean arrived just then and I turned to them in relief, hoping I didn’t look as nervous as I felt. “Oh, good! What am I supposed to do? I know you told me, but I’ve totally spaced it.”
Mr. O’s smile was understanding. “You’ll greet the dignitaries and reporters who will arrive in just a few minutes, then Nels Murdoch will present you with the Royal Scepter. Here is the text of the ceremony. It’s very brief.”
He punched it up on his omni screen for me and now I recognized it from my earlier reading. After saying my part under my breath twice, I was pretty sure I had it memorized.
“Thanks. And I really have to sit there?” I pointed to the cathoir.
“You do. In fact—” He glanced at the time on his omni— “I suggest you do so now.”
CHAPTER 35
Insealbau (in-SALL-baw): Installation, as of Nuathan Sovereign
I moved to the dais as quickly as my elaborate gown would allow and sat in the intimidating throne-thing just as the doors flew open again, this time to admit a whole crowd of people.
I recognized Nels Murdoch, Devyn Kane, Gordon Nolan and a few others, and Mr. O quietly identified the rest. “The entire acting legislature—both Houses—as well as at least one reporter from every network.”
The hundred-plus people arranged themselves in a semi-circle facing me, then Nels stepped forward, thumping his right fist smartly against his chest before bowing.
Everyone else in the room followed suit, then chanted, Emileia, Thiarna ar barr Nuath, failte a Thiaraway agus cumacht, the traditional greeting welcoming me to Thiaraway and to the throne.
Then Nels recited, first in Martian, then in English. “Sovereign. It is my honor to welcome you to Thiaraway and to cede leadership of the Nuathan people into your august hands. I hereby present the Royal Scepter, which I deliver into your hands as a token of your authority to rule. May you do so with wisdom and mercy.”
He bowed again, the action as stilted as his speech, and the man Mr. O had identified as acting High Chancellor came forward to hand the glittering staff to Nels, who presented it to me with another bow. I hesitated for a second, then reached out and took the Scepter in both hands. It was lighter—and warmer—than I expected. It also felt surprisingly…mine.
“Go raibhe mile maith agat. Me aidh bhunach go deo. Many thanks,” I said. “That will ever be my goal.”
Now the whole room chanted along with Nels, “Thiarna Emileia ar barr Nuath, failte a agus cumacht go deo,” roughly, “Sovereign Emileia, we look forward to your long reign.” Then they all bowed again.
I did the proper inclination of my head in response, which freed everyone to start moving around, some toward the door, others coming forward to offer their personal greetings and congratulations. That took a while, but once the reporters were gone and most of the crowd had dispersed, Nels came up to me again.
“May you rule long and well, Sovereign. I wish you much success in everything you do.” He felt sincere, which wasn’t really surprising, considering what my first task needed to be.
“Thank you, Nels. You served well as Interim Governor during a very difficult time for the Nuathan people. You were chosen because they trusted you to do what was best for them, and clearly that trust was well placed. I hope you will accept a post on my Advisory Council. Your experience would be very valuable to me.”
His eyes widened in surprise, but then he smiled—the first real smile he’d directed at me. “It would be my great honor, Excellency. My allegiance, of course, is yours. Always.” He bowed deeply.
Relieved to have him as an ally instead of an opponent, I smiled back. “I appreciate that more than I can say. If you have suggestions for other members of my Advisory Council, I would very much like to go over them with you.”
“Absolutely, Excellency.”
I glanced down at the scepter I still held. “Did Faxon carry this while he was in power?” Nothing in my reading had mentioned it either way.
Nels blinked, then shook his head. “He did have it brought to him at the very beginning, but then ordered it locked in the Royal Treasury, where it has remained for the past fifteen years. Why?”
“Just…curious.” I suspected the Scepter might be one of those things specially attuned to the Sovereign bloodline. When I got a chance, I’d have to study up on it.
But first I had to get through this afternoon’s stupid Royal Reception, so I could get on with the two things that really mattered—stopping the Grentl and getting Rigel back.
“That was well done, inviting Nels onto your Advisory Council,” Mr. O’Gara commented as we left the Royal Audience Hall twenty minutes later. “I must say, I’m impressed, Excellency.”
His use of my title still made me blink. “Thanks. It seemed like the right thing to do, somehow.”
“Indeed.”
“How long until that reception? Is there time now to talk about…you know?” There were still Palace staffers nearby.
He shook his head. “It’s scheduled to begin in the main function room in about forty-five minutes and you’ll need to change first. As will Sean and I. M
olly will know how to dress you.”
I glanced at her and she nodded eagerly, clearly distracted from her earlier fears by the prospect of again treating me like a living Barbie doll.
“But we’ll talk after, right?” I pressed, before Mr. O and Sean left us to go to their quarters. “I still haven’t heard back from Eric and we need a plan for…everything.” No one was close enough to hear, but I had no idea what kind of surveillance system the Palace might have. No point taking chances.
“Of course. I haven’t lost sight of what’s important, Excellency, not to worry.” With that, he bowed, which felt weird, too, and turned away.
Sean hung back. “I thought you did great just now, too.” His blue eyes were warm and, at the moment, unshadowed by fear or jealousy. “Try not to worry too much, okay? It’ll all work out somehow.”
I hoped he was right.
Half an hour later, arrayed in a different purple-with-diamonds dress that was nearly as gorgeous as the Accession one but easier to walk in, we left for the Royal Reception. This time Mr. O and Sean were waiting in the hallway to accompany us to the main function room. Sean’s eyes lit up with frank admiration when he saw me.
“Wow. That last outfit was great but this one suits you better. You look awesome.”
I felt myself blushing, stupid as that was under the circumstances. “Um, thanks. You guys look great, too.”
They did. Their costumes for the Accession had been nearly as ridiculous as mine, but now Sean and his father wore discreetly embroidered navy tunics over dark gray body suits that made them both look very distinguished. Maybe not as impressive as Rigel in his Bodyguard uniform, but…
