She added strength to her smile, fueled by the small win she’d just had.
“I’ll check in on you later,” he said, leaving the room with far lighter footsteps than when he’d arrived.
Rani returned to the window, her eyes glued to the Orbs of Time once more. She felt exactly like that red sand, trapped inside the center of her kingdom with all eyes upon her, waiting for her time to run out. She had no more control over what happened to her than those grains of sand being pulled toward the earth. And when her life was done, and she was released into the desert, the sand would turn once more, setting the path of her eldest child in motion. The same path she was being forced down, as had all the generations before her.
It was no wonder The Sands of Naar was grinding to a halt. Population was dwindling. Life expectancy was shrinking. And misery was flooding the kingdom in a tsunami of grief. How could anyone be happy with their life here? It was almost a blessing that their lives were shorter than those who’d come before them.
In fourteen turns of the sand, she’d be violated in the second worst way she could imagine. The only thing worse would be an inspection by the Chairman. The vilest man she’d ever laid eyes on.
She had no choice. Just like she had no choice in whether or not she wanted to be the Empress of this evil kingdom. She was the sand, being pulled down by a force greater than herself.
The reason she was obsessed with the orbs was because she hated them. Just like she hated her life. Just like she hated herself for being too weak to change it.
The Chairman
THE BEFORE
“Order!” The Chairman brought down his gavel with a thud. The Board were being particularly unruly today, muttering under their breath like they thought he couldn’t hear them. The sand wouldn’t pause for their chattering to end. It flowed on regardless. It’d be even-time soon and he hadn’t a moment to waste. He licked his lips at the prospect of what was ahead. He’d never seen a future Empress laid bare.
“She must be inspected,” he said, running his finger the length of the gavel as he spoke. “It’s the only way to be certain.”
“You can’t tell if her time has come by looking,” said Sharma, the only female Board member, seated on the opposite side of the round table.
He shook his head and made a tutting sound. What a pathetic statement. Did she take him for a fool? He’d know if the Princess’s time had come. This was his area of expertise, having observed countless sirings in The Sands of Naar. Princess Rani may be small and quiet, but he was certain she was hiding a blossoming womanhood underneath those long dresses she wore. He knew what to look for.
“Are you suggesting I don’t know how to do my job?” he asked.
“No, Chairman.” Sharma shrank back in her seat and placed a hand on her rounded belly, full with child. “Forgive me.”
“Excellent.” He put down the gavel and rubbed his hands together, admiring the slender length of his fingers. “I’m glad you agree.”
He scanned the other nine Board members, to see if there were any further objections. They sat still, their mutterings of only moments before silenced.
It was his duty to the kingdom to see if everything was in order with the Princess. The heir must produce an heir of her own. The chain couldn’t be broken. It was always easier when the heir was a male and there was no need to wait for any time to come. The current Emperor had been ready at an extraordinarily pleasing young age.
“The inspection will happen at even-time. The Emperor has been asked to ensure the Princess attends.”
Ten dark-haired heads bobbed at him in response.
“Now, Registrar, we’re ready for your report. Please commence.”
The Registrar stood and cleared his throat, as he flipped open the large leather-bound book on the table in front of him.
“We have eight-hundred-and-seventeen females registered. If you recall, last Shining we had a little over a thousand. Numbers are falling. We’re averaging thirty sirings for every turn of the sand—some turns more and some turns less—resulting in approximately three successful pregnancies per turn. If this continues, by next Shining, we’ll have had over a thousand babies born.”
The Chairman put down his gavel to dip a feather into an inkwell to make some notes. That was a lot of numbers to take in at once. A thousand babies was good news. Perhaps their fortunes may change, and the population would increase. It’d been a long time since that’d happened.
“How many releases have been recorded since the last Shining?” he asked, hoping to hear a number less than a thousand.
“One-thousand-two hundred,” came the reply.
“Damn it!” The Chairman thumped his fist on the table, forgetting to set down his feather, which snapped in half with the force.
“Is it time to re-consider our rules on release?” asked Sharma.
She really did have a big mouth. The Chairman cursed the law requiring at least one female to take a seat on the Board. They could do this job far better without that inconvenience. She was getting too comfortable here, forgetting her place and the promises she’d made in her past.
“You mean relax the rules?” He smiled at her, luring her into his trap.
She smiled in return. “Yes, Chairman.”
“No!” His smile dropped into a sneer. “Do you need a reminder of what happened the last time the rules were relaxed? Historian! Please enlighten us, once again.”
The Registrar sat down as the Historian rose to his feet.
“The Sands of Naar wasn’t always a kingdom of health and prosperity,” he said by rote. “Our ancestors lived by few rules, touching each other at will and mating without record. Then a terrible disease spread across the desert. People fell ill and died, passing the disease to all they touched, threatening to wipe out the entire kingdom. Frightened for his people and overwhelmed by the task, the Emperor established a Board, granting them authority to rule as necessary to restore the population. Slowly, with much hard work and wise heads put together, solutions were found and the population stabilized. Today, the Board still exists, having eradicated the disease by maintaining strict control over the population. This control must be enforced, or the disease will return and the kingdom will be no more. Anybody who’s deemed to have broken the law and thereby puts the kingdom at risk will be released into the desert.”
“Excellent,” said the Chairman. “Do you still wish to relax the rules, Board Member?”
“No, Chairman,” Sharma said, although her eyes still said yes, which was irritating.
“How many turns of the sand until your child is born?” he asked her, wondering how soon he could consider her release. With the population in danger, the release of a pregnant woman would never happen. Perhaps an exception could be made this one time…
“Twenty-three,” she said, bowing her head, and sinking back into her chair yet again.
He nodded, having made his point and needing to say no more to ensure her silence lasted this time.
The rules couldn’t be relaxed. There’d be anarchy. And it would only be a matter of time before his position as Chairman came into question. The only way he could hold onto his power was with total compliance of each and every rule, including the Princess’s obligation to produce an heir.
The door flew open and the Chairman rolled his eyes at the interruption, only to realize it was the Emperor. The Board stood and bowed, waiting to be told they could take their seats once again.
This protocol amused the Chairman. The Emperor should be bowing to the Board, not the other way around. However, this was part of their tradition and it was important to keep tradition in place. Their way of life depended on it. As did his position as Chairman.
The Emperor didn’t tell them to take their seats. His eyes shone with too much excitement to remember something like that.
“Princess Rani’s time has come!” he blurted out, his words running together. “In fourteen turns of the sand we can make haste to produce the heir.”
A band of disappointment gripped the Chairman around the chest. He’d been looking forward to inspecting the Princess at even-time.
“We must call a special meeting to discuss the heir’s parentage,” the Emperor said. “A suitable sire must be found immediately.”
“There’s no need for that,” the Chairman said, rubbing his chin as his disappointment was washed away by a wave of excitement at the opportunity to announce a decision he’d made long ago. “As you know, normally I observe the sirings, rather than participate in them myself. I’ve decided to make an exception this time. I’ll sire the child myself.”
The Chairman spun around, certain he’d heard a gasp. It was that woman again, he was sure of it. However, Sharma returned his glare with an impassive stare.
“We should meet to discuss this,” said the Emperor, twisting his hands into a knot.
“No, we will not,” the Chairman said, feeling a pleasant stir in his groin. “We’ll take a vote. All in favor of me siring the Princess’s heir, please raise your hand.”
Nine hands rose into the air, including his own. The Chairman raised his eyebrows at Sharma, waiting for her to cast her vote. All votes needed to be unanimous to be passed. Just another problematic rule this Board had inherited.
Sharma’s eyes darted to the Emperor, who was ineligible for the vote. This was a matter for the kingdom and he had no say in that. Did the stupid woman think the Emperor could find her a way out of this?
She looked back to the Chairman and raised a shaking hand in the air.
“It’s been decided,” the Chairman said, banging his gavel on the table. “The heir to The Sands of Naar will carry my blood.”
Problem solved.
“The meeting’s adjourned.” He thumped his gavel once more.
He may have been robbed of his even-time inspection, but in fourteen turns of the sand, it was unanimous that he was going to have so much more fun.
Sharma
THE BEFORE
Sharma left the Board meeting, incandescent with rage. Holding her tongue had been difficult, but she’d had to, just in case the Chairman decided her child was as worthless as he clearly thought she was. This was the only time in her baby’s life when she’d be able to take care of it, and she was determined to do it well. She couldn’t risk upsetting the Chairman to the point he had her released. She could help nobody from her grave.
Having seen thirty-two Shinings, she was aware this may be the last child she had. Hopefully, her name would be removed from the registry for good and she’d be allowed to live her final turns of the sand in peace.
She wound her way through the long corridors of the palace as she returned to her bedchamber. All Board members were required to live in the palace so they were available at short notice to attend to the needs of the kingdom. She was glad of that today as her legs were aching. The sooner this baby was born, the better. Although, right now, technically she was touching her child. Her baby was encased in nothing but her touch. Once it was born, it’d be carried to its crib with thick-gloved hands and cared for without any contact of skin. It was no wonder many failed to thrive. So, perhaps sooner wasn’t better for this child to be born. Perhaps it’d be preferable if it stayed in her belly forever.
She closed her door behind her and went to her window to look out at the Orbs of Time. Almost half the sand had fallen from the topmost orb to the bottom one, which meant it was soon to be even-time. At least Rani didn’t have to deal with the Chairman’s inspection today. Although, what awaited her in fourteen turns would be inarguably worse.
An ill feeling pooled in her stomach that had nothing to do with her pregnancy and she pushed away images of the Chairman siring Rani’s heir. Sharma had lost count of the times she herself had endured a siring. Every twenty-eight turns of the sand since her time had come, apart from when she was with child, which had been seven times before now. She wondered what’d happened to those children. Many children in The Sands of Naar didn’t live to see their first birthday. How many of her babies had survived? Had any lived long enough to leave the Growing Center and start lives of their own? Had she seen them in the Round staring up at the orbs and not even realized it?
There was a quiet tap at her door and she went to it, knowing who it would be. Sharma’s room shared a wall with Princess Rani. They were close in ways that stretched beyond their physical proximity. Rani trusted Sharma, just as she trusted Rani. Without her, that poor girl would have grown up with only her father and servants for company.
She cracked open her door. “Come in. Quickly, before you’re seen.”
Rani slid past her and slumped in a chair by the window, her dark eyes drawn to the orbs, as always. It was hard to believe this skinny girl would be Empress one day. She seemed too small. Too quiet. Too kind of heart.
Although, from what Sharma had just been told at the meeting, she wasn’t a girl anymore. Her time had come. Why hadn’t she come to her to ask for help? Had the Emperor prepared her? Would the Emperor even know what she had to do? One of the female servants must’ve gone to her aid.
“Did you hear?” asked Rani, crossing her arms.
“It had to happen eventually,” said Sharma, as gently as she could. “You’re almost seventeen Shinings now. Most girls have their time at thirteen or even less.”
Tears slid from Rani’s eyes as she turned to face Sharma, her teeth working hard to grind each other away.
Sharma sat on the bed near her and made soothing sounds, her hands itching to draw Rani close and offer her the comfort she clearly needed. She often wondered if others felt like this with their need to touch and be touched. Perhaps it was just her. She’d never dared to ask anyone else about it.
“What did they say?” asked Rani. “You took ages.”
“Sorry, it was a long meeting. Your father came in at the end to tell us that your time came. He was most excited.”
Rani shook her head, clearly not as excited as her father. She looked more like someone was about to die, rather than be conceived.
“What’s wrong, Rani?” Sharma felt her baby kick and stroked her belly, comforting her child in the way she wished she could bring comfort to Rani. “We’ve talked about this before. You knew this was going to happen.”
“I lied to him!” Rani sat forward in her chair, bringing herself unusually close to Sharma. “Sharma, my time hasn’t come. The Chairman wanted to inspect me, and I had to think of something, so I told Father a fib.”
Sharma’s hands fell into her lap as an icy shiver ran down her spine. “Hold on,” she said, wanting to be certain she understood. “You told your father your time came to get out of your inspection with the Chairman?”
Rani nodded and this time tears of Sharma’s own escaped down her cheeks. How could she tell this poor child what’d been decided in the meeting? A siring was far worse than an inspection. The news would destroy her.
“Rani, I need to tell you what happened after the Emperor made the announcement. This isn’t easy for me to say…”
“Just tell me,” said Rani, blinking slowly.
“It’s about the meeting to decide the heir’s parentage.” Sharma coughed and shuffled in her seat. “You see... there’ll be no meeting.”
Sharma noticed Rani’s legs were shaking, her hands held together so tightly in her lap they had no chance to move. This poor girl was terrified.
“Did Father see through my lie?” asked Rani, tilting her head.
“No, my sweet girl,” she said, wishing that was it. “He didn’t. The Emperor believes you.”
“What then?”
“The Chairman decided who’ll sire your heir, without a meeting being necessary.” Damn! Why weren’t the words coming to her? What words could she use to soften such a devastating blow?
Rani looked at her and waited. “Who?”
Sharma stood up, the urge to put her hands on Rani stronger than ever. Where did that instinct come from? Perhaps it was because she knew her words wo
uldn’t be enough to soothe Rani once she heard her fate.
She drew in a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Rani. The Chairman wishes to sire your heir himself.”
“No!” Rani leaped from her chair and stood before Sharma, leaving only a breath of space between them. “Tell me this isn’t true. Please!”
“I wish I could,” she whispered, looking down to the floor. Witnessing Rani’s distress was too much to take. Her own heart felt like it’d been torn from her chest. She’d swap places with this girl if only she could. Her own innocence had been dragged from her body long ago now. She didn’t wish the same for Rani. Or any girl in the kingdom.
“What am I going to do?” asked Rani, sitting back down and drawing her shaking knees to her chest as she wrapped her arms around them.
“I don’t know,” said Sharma, recognizing Rani’s position in the chair. When her belly wasn’t so big, she often sat like this herself, trying to draw comfort from arms that were her own.
“You have to help me,” said Rani. “Sharma, please, we have to think of something.”
Sharma nodded. She had fourteen turns to think of something. She owed Rani that much. But how could she save this poor girl from her inevitable fate when she couldn’t even save herself?
Rani
THE BEFORE
The moment Rani learned who was to sire her heir was the moment her will to live died. If only her body died along with her will. She’d rather the Chairman release her into the desert than subject her to the horror that awaited her.
Now, when she looked at the Orbs of Time, she was clear she didn’t want the grains to fall faster. She wanted them to hold still. For the universe to stop and keep her steady and safe in the Now. Sharma had told her once about something called the Evernow, where people claimed to be happy to live in the moment. Rani couldn’t remember ever being happy in any moment, although given what lay ahead, then perhaps her life had been total bliss so far and she hadn’t realized it. Sometimes the bad had to be experienced to appreciate the good.
The Kingdoms of Evernow Box Set Page 45
