THE YEAR 2163
OSTRA, BORZIA
General Zander walked through the royal palace with purpose, an even deeper scowl than usual marring her fine-featured face. She clasped her fingers around a newspaper in her hand as if it was the neck of an enemy. Going by the frightened expressions of the staff, it was likely war would soon rain upon them.
That guess wasn’t far off, as the paper in her hand was Ardenian.
“Move,” she barked at the soldiers in her way, who fell in line quickly. Not even a brush of clothing touched her as she stormed past.
The guards opened the large wooden doors and let her through without hesitation.
King Sergei looked up from his morning tea, his eyes narrowing as he tried to decipher her expression. “What is it?” he asked stiffly.
“This,” General Zander hissed as she threw the newspaper on the table, looking like an animal narrowing in on its prey after being left to chew on only bones for too long.
The king turned the newspaper to face him and unfolded it carefully, as if it had a bomb planted inside. He skimmed the page. With each passing sentence, the frown between his eyes deepened. Finally, he lay down the paper and turned his gaze to her. “Is it true? Ardenza found a solution against the mutation?”
She scowled. “Unfortunately, it is.”
“Unfortunately,” the king repeated calmly. “Ardenza finding the serum before we did is… unfortunate?” he asked, voice steady but eyes blazing.
General Zander sat down in the chair opposite him. “They’re already working on a vaccine.” Her eye twitched as she tried to remain composed. She flicked her knife free from its sheath and twirled it around in her hand. “But that’s not what pisses me off. We’re rich; we’ll pry the vaccine from their hands with gold. Ardenza has a price, just like everybody else.”
The king only watched, unfazed by her display of anger. “What, then?”
“Just continue reading,” she spat, turning a couple of pages and shoving the paper back to him, showing another article. The General turned away as if she couldn’t even stomach looking at it.
He turned the paper, his hand splaying over the black-and-white print. Slowly, his fingertips turned white as he seemed to increase pressure.
“Is it her?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Of course it is.”
King Sergei’s frown was the only sign of his distress. “How?”
“She survived. Changed last names,” the General answered with effort, making sure she didn’t raise her voice.
The king’s anger didn’t subside, but, slowly, his eyes darted back to the page she held open. “Impossible,” the king replied, shoving back the newspaper.
General Zander shook her head. “It is possible. I asked my contacts in Barak, and they searched for her birth certificate—it wasn’t there. They did, however, list some of her information in the military system.”
“She was presumed dead.”
Clenching her teeth, General Zander stashed away her knife. She calmed her breath through sheer will and determination. “Does she look fucking dead to you?” The General pointed to the picture in the Ardenian newspaper.
King Sergei suddenly stood, tearing his eyes away from the picture. “Remember your place, Tatiana.”
General Zander—Tatiana—breathed a dramatic sigh of relief. “What a marvelous way to deflect, Papa. From now on, I shall keep my mouth shut like the obedient little princess you want me to be,” she snarled, eyes turning sour.
The king looked her dead in the eye. “Watch your tongue, girl, or I will put all of it in Alek’s name. You know just as well as I do that the public would much rather see you step down.”
Tatiana clenched her jaw and turned red from anger. She exhaled slowly, and her expression changed, her lips curving into a manic smile. “The public would rather not see a Zander on the throne at all. That’s why we need to rip this problem from the world. Have no one questioning our claim.”
“She might not know,” the king murmured. Thinking. Contemplating.
Tatiana stood, grinning darkly, and walked over to the windows of her father’s sitting room, looking out onto Ostra. “Of course she doesn’t. All the more reason to act fast—before anyone finds out.”
The king grunted. “Don’t we have anyone in Ardenza to do the job?”
“And let an Ardenian do it?” she snorted.
The king tutted as he agreed. He was tapping his finger on the paper before him, mulling it over, thinking of different scenarios. “There must be an easier way.”
“Easier than killing her?”
The king raised a brow. “You think your team can do it?”
“Think?” she exclaimed. “I know.”
“That arrogance of yours won’t ever do you any good but make you blind to your weak spots,” he snarled, pointing a finger in her face.
His daughter raised her chin defiantly. “I’m not arrogant. I’m confident.”
“That’s a very thin line to cross, Tatiana, and I will make you pay for it if you do.”
“I won’t,” she countered.
“Do it, then. But I swear to you—if you fail, you will account for it personally. Your inheritance hangs in the balance.”
“Don’t I know it,” Tatiana replied, a wolfish grin marring her pretty features. “As I said, dear Papa, everyone has a price—and I know just the person who will help me do almost anything.”