Present day
Battles were easier than this. There was a cacophonous symphony to war; everyone had a place, movements were carefully coordinated and planned and executed. Nyx was used to exhausting her body, to punishing it with pain. She was very good at killing.
She did not like espionage, or playing a part, or pretending to be of any station above the one she had been designated. The robes she wore were so soft that she felt naked. The filters up her nose and down her throat itched something awful. The soft, musical accents of upper-class Tholosians and Evoli chafed her ears.
As they moved through the gardens and deposited the spharias amid the vast grounds, Nyx and Cato pretended to gawk like tourists. In truth, Nyx was counting how many Evoli and Tholosians were inside the perimeter of the spharias’ quarantine—people who would die if Damocles loosed the plague. The revelers beyond the palace grounds would be spared. That was all they could do.
Nyx and Cato headed back to the palace, and the scan checked them through to the main ballroom.
Beside her, Cato let out a breath. “Now what?”
Nyx wound her way through the crowd, taking care to appear casual rather than purposeful. “We wait for Sher and the distraction,” she said through her teeth.
Beside her, Cato’s movements were as stiff and awkward as one of those mech androids on planets without many gerulae.
“Look natural, you fuckwit.” Nyx put up a hand as if she were rubbing her nose. “Avert your face or cover your mouth when you speak. Evoli are good lip readers. And for god’s sake, try not to feel panicked. All they have to do is touch you and they’ll sense everything.” Nyx scanned the room, eyes darting from person to person. “Plenty of security—”
An Evoli soldier across the room caught her gaze, then he glanced behind her.
Someone brushed her shoulder softly—a quick, light touch, as if by accident. But Nyx felt a quick probe of empathic abilities. It was different from Rhea—the courtesan was so subtle that Nyx hadn’t noticed it before Ismara. This was a more blatant nudge. Like a barb. An invasion.
Nyx couldn’t fake emotions of joy or delight, because she didn’t feel those things. They were foreign to her. So, she tried for contentment instead, what she felt when Ariadne had held her hand earlier.
The touch disappeared and she heard a muttered apology. Across the room, the soldier still watched her.
Nyx put a hand up to hide her lips. “Dance with me,” she breathed to Cato.
“Oh,” he said. “Do I have to?”
Nyx rolled her eyes. “Shut up and dance.”
Reluctantly, Cato pulled Nyx closer. It was a Tholosian royal dance, one familiar to Nyx only because she had been forced to perform it during the military’s grand tour after the Battle of the Garnet. The steps between them were uneven, not cohesive at all. More about the performance than the actual movement.
The music slid through the crowd, mingling with the tinkling of jewels, the scuff of expensive shoes. Half a dozen perfumes blended into an overwhelming scent. It reminded her so much of other balls she’d been to—so many over the years. All of them in celebration of victory, the blood of battle only just recently washed away.
This one felt like a sign of death to come.
Cato hid his face in Nyx’s shoulder. “Any sight of the general or Eris?”
“No.” Nyx kept her voice deliberately low. “If Sher doesn’t manage to intercept him, Damocles will wait for the right moment.”
“The right moment?”
“Yes. Remember what Rhea said? The maximum effect.”
A new song began, some steady tattoo that kept the pace of a heartbeat. An Evoli song; she was certain of it. She remembered hearing such drums on the battlefield in the distant Evoli camps.
The sound of it made her blood stir—too many memories. It brought her right back to being a soldier, fighting for her ruler, her planet, her empire.
Stop, she told herself. Not your emperor, not your planet, not your empire. You fight for Ariadne. For Rhea. For the rest of the crew. Even Eris. Even yourself.
Another Tholosian song began. A strong, strident and deep thrum that wove itself with the beat of the Evoli instruments. Both echoed off the walls, intended to be a song of unity, of a new, harmonious future.
Nyx fought her memories, her programming, her upbringing. When she looked at Cato, she knew he felt the same. Cato had deeper programming, and he wasn’t as resistant. His eyes were closed, his expression relaxed. Nyx remembered this. In the communal room with her cohort, they played this song and they all closed their eyes in prayer. Some pressed their hands to their hearts.
“Cato.” She gripped his arm, leaned into him. “Listen to my voice.”
“I hear you.” His voice was faint.
Rhea and Ariadne might have deprogrammed him, but the lure was still there. The drug-like comfort of not questioning, not rebelling, of letting everything be decided. So easy.
The Evoli drums quickened.
The Tholosian anthem grew louder.
Cato’s eyes fluttered shut.
Nyx sank her fingernails into his arm, relieved to see him wince.
“Eris,” Nyx gritted. “She might need our help. If you can’t handle this, I’m leaving your ass right here.”
“Eris?” He sounded dazed.
Before Nyx could respond, the drums and the anthem stopped. The dais at the far end of the room was lit in a blazing light that cast the Evoli Ascendant and the Archon in the different colors of a nebula. Projected stars scattered across their features, a symbol in both empires of hope and peace.
The Evoli Ascendant and the Tholosian Archon rose to stand next to each other as they addressed the crowd. Her long robes were deceptively simple compared to the Archon in his full military dress. She wore a headdress that was as delicate as lace, in contrast to the heavy crown slanted across his brow. A goddess, a god—both of them able to change the course of the future with this one meeting.
The room was quiet, rapt.
“Welcome, All Souls,” the Ascendant said, using the formal address for Evoli citizens. Even with her words artificially projected, she sounded quiet, her voice ringing lovely as a chime.
“And loyal Tholosians,” the Archon added with a single, stern nod.
There was a hunched line to his shoulders and a weariness in his voice. Nyx had always heard that when the Archon finally aged, it caught up all at once.
The Ascendant lifted her chin. “For the last five hundred years, our great empires have been at war. Each victory has been overshadowed by devastating loss, and we agree the cost of this has become too great. It cannot continue.”
The Archon added his voice to hers: “We acknowledge this newfound accord will not come easily to some. A declaration cannot undo our pasts, but my hope is that it will clear a peaceful path going forward. A future that will be ensured and continued by my son and Heir, General Damocles.”
The Archon nodded to a door off to the side, and Nyx dug her fingers into Cato’s arm as the general strode forward to join his father on the dais.
Eris wasn’t with him.
“Shit,” Nyx muttered.
Where was she? Had Commander Sher managed to get her out without their help?
The treaty was projected toward the dais in a dappling of colors and lettering across the features of both ruling families. It had been translated into both Imperial Tholosian and Evolian, the symbols merging together in a pact that could not be mistaken: from this day forward, the future of their empires would intertwine.
The Ascendant slid her fingertips across the letters of the treaty, until the ridges of her prints had left their impression across the projection. The Archon added his own in a firm smear of a line. He nodded to his son to do the same.
Nyx held her breath as she crept forward, dragging Cato behind her. She had to move slowly, as if she were edging closer for a better look.
Too slow.
She waited, trying to slow the cadence of her breath, the beat of her heart. She had to be careful. Nyx watched as Damocles strode toward the signing table. The crowd erupted in applause.
No, something was wrong. Nyx kept her eyes on Damocles as she moved forward, faster. Where was Sher? He had to do something—
Damocles lifted a hand and the crowd quieted. “Before I sign, I’d like to say a few words. In celebration of this treaty, I’ve come with offerings to reinforce my intent to follow the Archon’s legacy.” Damocles looked at the Archon and bowed at the waist. “And, of course, a gift for my father.” He pointed to the door and beckoned with his fingers. “We have found Princess Discordia, former Heir Apparent.”
Nyx froze and watched as Eris swept into the room wearing all the finery of royalty. A heavy dress in red and black, and embroidered with the scythes of Tholos. Dark feathers were sewn into her bodice, their iridescence catching the light. Red cabochons set in black metal glimmered at her throat and ears, one jewel fastened to her forehead like a third eye. She wore a curved headdress that was dotted with fire opals.
Eris also wore her old face, the fine-boned features of the Servant of Death.
Why wasn’t Eris doing anything? She didn’t even seem distressed or panicked. Had Nyx’s fears been true? Had she betrayed them?
Nyx mentally reached for her Pathos. <Sher? Eris is on the dais and she’s not moving. Tell me you’ve got a plan.>
Silence.
Her heartbeat echoed in her throat. What were her orders?
“Why the hell isn’t she doing anything?” Nyx hissed.
Cato grasped Nyx’s arm. “Look at her eyes. She’s drugged.”
Even from where Nyx stood, Eris’s pupils were so dilated the irises looked black. Her expression was blank. Like a beautiful doll, and just as easily manipulated. Drugged to the gills. She gripped a box in her hands, as red and dark and intricate as her clothes.
“She has a votive gift for our Ascendant Oversoul,” Damocles said smoothly. “An offering for our new future.”
“Son of a bitch,” Nyx said, noticing the box Eris was carrying. “Move. We need to move.”
“Why?”
“Remember what Rhea said? Damocles won’t take the fall for this. He’s got Eris holding the godsdamned weapon.”