Ranse stares at the captain’s picture like he’s just had his heart ripped out. His jaw works. He looks like he’s going to throw something or cry.
This room suddenly seems very small.
I find my voice. “There’s no note. It’s just a blank line with the letter E.”
“My brother added her to the archive.”
I’ve watched her since the emergency. She has access to everything. She could murder anyone at any time. “Is Zai really missing?”
He stands abruptly, leaving her image up on the screen, and stalks out. “I’ll call him myself.”
I follow. “You didn’t close your screen. She could see it.”
“I’m not afraid of that.” His tone sounds like he would welcome it, actually.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking your suggestion.” He strides through the carved halls previously blocked by soldiers. His passing causes a ripple. Orunfax might control key people elsewhere, but the palace staff appear awed by him. Of course, looks can be deceiving. “You’re going back to the nightclub.”
My chest tightens. “Just me?”
“I can defeat Ishula in a fight. Probably. She always pulls her punches. Even she can’t turn her blades on an emperor. But on a lesser?” He nails me with a hard, furious glance.
I get it. I squeeze his bulging forearm. “What’s your plan?”
“She’ll have the secret exits blockaded, so the best way out is as an ambassador.” He stops outside an antechamber and pulls me into his arms. “You’re going to walk out the front door.”
I curl my hand around the back of his neck. “I’ll call as soon as I get back to the nightclub.”
“Use my private line. Takoba can show you. Call me every shift. Every cleg.”
“I promise.” Is this my last view of him? The creases in his face are still smeared with black marks and burns, his heart broken and reforged, a lone warrior standing in his fallen kingdom. I press my lips to his cheek. “I wish I had blades.”
“Me too.” He holds me tight, then releases me to a staff member who’s materialized, wide-eyed, to wait on us. “Return the Humana ambassador to my nightclub.”
“Yes, Emperor.” The staff member turns on me, stiff with correctness, and gestures to the milling chamber. “This way.”
I skirt the exhausted ambassadors. The Vanadisan ambassador, Shuvexin, holds his head in his hands, eyes closed, near the front. I pause at the exit for one last look at the palace interior.
Ranse is watching me from beyond the shadowed gray doorway.
Erion told him to put his valuables as far away from him as possible.
I don’t want to leave.
But let’s be real.
What good can I do here?
I don’t have blades or gun hands or the ability to spit bullets. I can share my numeracy and unique views from afar.
So I get sending me away, and I agree with it, but in my heart, it still feels wrong.
That’s because love makes us stupid.
And I’m not stupid.
I cross the threshold, and Ranse is cut off from my sight.
That’s weird. Unsettling.
This small antechamber dumps into the main entry tunnel. Overhead are the familiar lines of teeth, and the light—well, viewscreen light—shines through from outside.
The pavilion is in total chaos.
I got a false sense of calm from being in the restricted areas of the palace, I guess.
A black haze hangs in the air like a malaise. All the nobles have evacuated, and the ambassadors are the lowest priority. Staff here direct the emergency evacuation calmly, competently, and with absolutely no argument. A valet tries to talk to one and is simply tossed aside without answer.
“Ranse?” A guard shouts over us. “Ranse?”
Huh? I thought—
“Here!” My escort sends me to the guard.
A smaller, more maneuverable ship with Ranse’s crest cuts to the front of the line.
The guards open the door, grab my shoulders, and shove me inside. “Hey!”
Another staff person tosses a cracked data tablet. It lands on my tangled legs with a painful thunk. The door closes and the ship lifts off while another tries to jockey into place.
Ouch.
I sit and scoop up the data tablet. This is Ranse’s, right? Yep, there are his war files.
He’s so crazy. To the people who matter, he lays himself bare, thoroughly unafraid of any consequences. That violent trust is both noble and terrifying.
My driver accelerates hard through the portal. We burst through a new checkpoint, escaping before the surprised soldiers react. Apparently, Orunfax’s assurance that he has the third ring secured are a little premature. My driver zooms across the noble houses to the portal to the next ring, then decelerates just as viciously as we settle into a massive traffic jam.
I lean my head back against the seat, take a deep breath, and let it out.
All the shakes come out of me. My legs are sore, and everything trembles.
In a small cabinet beneath the controls, I find and tear open a packet of electrolyte water. I’m so thirsty, it feels like my throat is coated with mucus, and I don’t even taste it as I swallow it down. Mm. I feel better already.
Images of the explosion—the white flash, Ranse’s brother flinching, his body crumpled beneath the rubble—strobe my inner mind.
I shudder. My belly crunches like aluminum.
A tapping sound brings me back to now.
We’re at the checkpoint to the portal. I hug Ranse’s data tablet, as if that will somehow protect us.
A military officer taps the driver’s window. “What are you driving?”
“A human lesser,” my valet says.
“It can’t return to the noble ring.”
“She won’t.”
The military officer nods and waves us through.
Huh. That was easy. I slump in the seat. I guess I’m going to be okay after all.
The driver hangs a left, away from the jam, and guns through back streets, racing across hordes of aliens and Arrisans that seem one wrong word from exploding.
My legs ache. I stretch them out, and my stomach growls.
In the cabinet I find a store of nutrient cubes. I’ve never been this grateful for kibble before. We’ll be back at the nightclub soon, and I can order a jumbo bowl of Puffy-Os and read more into the origin myths. If I’m going to support Ranse and Humana, appeal to a deeper spirit hidden within the Arrisans’ deadly psyche, I feel like Catarine and Esme were right and that’s where I need to start.
The ship stops on the street and the door opens.
Huh? This isn’t anywhere near the nightclub.
I feel a twinge of unease. I was so wrapped up in myself that I deliberately paid little to no attention about my situation. And all of a sudden, I’m a hundred percent certain that was a mistake.
I press the intercom button. “Where am I?”
The driver looks to the side. His profile is oddly familiar, but all Arrisans look basically the same. Still…
“We’re supposed to go the nightclub,” I say.
He doesn’t reply.
There’s a number ten impressed onto his valet uniform.
Wait, wait. Driver ten?
“Daol,” I say.
He blinks as if he’s surprised I know his name and turns more fully to face me. “What?”
“You were supposed to be fired.”
“So you know.” He flicks his number and faces the street again. “One last payload. Off the clock.”
Payload?
Two Vanadisans push into the ship and grab me. “Patient 31. Finally back where you belong.”
Ranse
“The palace grounds are fully evacuated and the fire has been extinguished,” my palace maintenance engineer informs me at the command center. “Emperor Folion’s funerary ship should be ready to be relaunched with a new bomb in a gora. We are continuing our investigation of how the old bomb was improperly activated.”
“And your conclusion so far?”
“All the early indications are that this was a terrorist attack by one of our vassals. We’ve had a lot of attacks recently from Eruvis.”
We have made many enemies in the last generations. My father took over more planets than we can effectively regulate. But if vassals are to blame, the High Command will argue we must dominate them even more.
I want to hear Allie’s opinion. But she still hasn’t called. I conclude his report. “Keep me informed.”
He nods.
My policy adviser leans forward and folds his hands. “We need to talk about the high commander’s unauthorized imperial transmission and how it has affected the rest of the empire.”
The dread of it in memory seeps in. “Agreed.”
“Everyone we’ve polled has assumed that he was speaking on your command. Until you come out and say he’s not your adviser and his actions are not on your behalf, there is no challenge.” My policy adviser lets that sink in. “There are positives and negatives to allowing the impression to stand.”
“I say nothing, and suddenly, he’s my avatar again.” I lean back and stretch, my sore lances squeaking in my wrists. I still haven’t cleansed or rested. “He acts with impunity and I get the blame.”
“Yes. But you don’t want the nobility to think you’re weak. They’ll vote you out at the confirmation ceremony and force someone else”—he glances at Vaier—“to be emperor in your place.”
Vaier is carefully neutral. We both know that while he won’t fight me for the position, if I manage to screw it up on my own, then he’s not going to turn it down either.
“You may invite Orunfax to take the special adviser position after all,” the policy adviser says. “At least until Zai pledges more blades. There are rules.”
You’re above the rules.
A grim silence permeates the room. These are my father’s advisers. Erion kept them largely the same. They’ve now seen two emperors assassinated, or nearly so, by the same opponent. I think they might be wondering if they’re about to see a third.
Ishula sits in her wall seat. Everyone has a place here.
I lean forward. “Then let’s hear from Zai, shall we?”
There’s a shocked gasp.
I initiate the call. The viewscreen dissolves to show a scene inside the Arsenal’s maintenance wing, and a brusque female blade answers. “Emperor Ranse, I am Janvia, facilities master. Zai will contact you as soon as he can, but unfortunately, we have no idea when that will be.”
“Great.” I flex my fingers. “And where has he run off to during such a critical time? Humana?”
“Ah…” She clears her throat. “He’s in Vanadisan space. That’s as much as I know.”
Her wording is interesting. “That’s all you know?”
“I’m sure he had no idea there would ever be a breach at Arris Central.”
I tap my fingertips together. “Did he take Esme?”
“No, she’s still here.”
“Summon her.”
Janvia clears her throat. “Yes, of course, I’ll see if she’s available.”
There’s a murmur among my people. Janvia, a woman who’s been a blade longer than I’ve been alive, puts me in second place to Zai’s human?
But it also gives me hope. Someday, I won’t have to worry about Allie being mistreated by Arrisans because humans can earn our highest respect.
The viewscreen shifts to Zai’s private chambers. Esme sits in his command center, looking for all the world as if it belongs to her. “I already told you, Zai isn’t…oh. It’s you.”
“It is me.” I give her a winning smile. “I hope he’s contacted you.”
“He can’t. I think.” She draws her fingers through her wild hair, exposing and then hiding again Zai’s disturbing mark. “But I guess I can tell you. The Vanadisans have been studying the ships of the H—er, the aliens that destroyed your planet.”
“The Harsi,” I supply, into the sudden silence in my conference room. “All the dead ships are kept at the farthest edge of the empire just in case there’s some heretofore unknown way that they could lead back to us.”
“Right, well, the Vanadisans have been secretly expanding into space where the, um, the aliens came from. They found a ship fragment that still has power.”
I feel ill. “It was still on? Transmitting?”
“Zai’s blades uncovered it when they were looking for my shipmates. He’s gone to ensure it’s shut off.”
“He should have told me. Erion. He should have sent someone else.”
“He told Erion.”
I look around the room. The others are aghast. “So apparently, Erion didn’t tell anyone else.”
“Yeah. You guys don’t stop and think very logically when it comes to the, uh, the H aliens. I don’t blame you, though. I saw the hologram.” She pantomimes the size. “Ten feet tall, with meat cleavers instead of hands, and antennae instead of eyes. But yeah.”
We are a very logical race, and yet, she’s not wrong.
“Anyway, I sent a notice to his ship right after the funeral explosion, but I think he’s traveling too fast and light to listen to comms. As soon as he checks in, we can move blades to support you on Arris Central. I’ve asked the other masters to draw up plans. We could send the Spiderwasp today, but it’s the only ship standing between Humana and the Eruvisans. How long can you hold out?”
“It depends on the palace guard.” I look pointedly at Ishula.
She looks back at me with a mild ripple of a frown.
“Anyway, that’s my update. I’ll have Zai call you right away when he lands. Good luck, Ranse.”
My people murmur again in surprise, and I terminate the connection and turn to my military liaison. “Find out how long the High Command has been allowing Vanadisans into Harsi space. If they haven’t, then we have info they lack.”
The rest of my people take their assignments. I at last turn to Ishula. She’s watching the blank screen as if she’s waiting for Zai to pop up on it.
“You distrust lessers,” I comment.
She shrugs. “As long as they’re not criminals, they’re nothing to me.”
“How do you feel about taking orders from one?”
“I don’t take orders from anyone but the emperor.”
“And the people I appoint,” I remind her. “And the people I tell you to leave alone, like Allie.”
“It doesn’t affect me,” she replies evenly.
Fine. “Until Zai responds, you’re on your own. How long can the palace withstand an attack?”
“Indefinitely.”
“How long until you switch sides and stab me in the back?”
She blinks slowly. “I’m sorry?”
I ensure that the private conference room is sealed, and tap through the command chair to input my private codes. “When you said you hadn’t seen the archive, I didn’t believe you. But then I saw this.” I navigate to the secret folder and skim through the profiles, flashing them up on the viewscreen. “These are all the people who are loyal to Orunfax as identified by my father and then my brother.”
She watches the show with no outward appearance of interest, but her eyes take in every quick flash. Her nostrils flare; she scratches her elbow. Some of these must surprise her, but most cause no reaction. Until the last photo.
Her blank face stares back at us.
Ishula stands, crosses and uncrosses her arms, and looks at me. “I’m loyal.”
“Then why did my brother label you a traitor?”
“I don’t know.” She rubs her chevron tattoos with her thumbs. “I don’t…I’m not…”
“He didn’t trust you, Ishula. That’s why he wouldn’t confide in you. You didn’t have all the information you needed to keep him safe. I’ll give you everything because I’m not afraid. But you are going to answer me right now.” I stand and walk to her, eject my lance, and rest the sharp barb against her throat. She lets me, looking right up into my eyes, not an instant of resistance in her stance. “What did you do that made my brother mistrust you?”
She’s silent for a long, terrible moment.
The command center console pings, and a staff member intones, “Takoba from your nightclub.”
I don’t move. “Put him through.”
The viewscreen dissolves to show Takoba standing beside smoking wreckage on the lower street outside my building. Black weapon marks darken his suit. My staff put out the fire behind him. “The nightclub was attacked.”
My stomach drops and I turn away from Ishula to fully focus. “Allie?”
“Mostly Eruvisans.” He wipes an orange spray off his cheek. “A couple of Arrisans.”
“No, I sent Allie back to you clegs ago. Where is she?”
He scans the empty street in front of him. “I’ll start a trace.”
“Contact me as soon as you find her.” I move to close the connection.
“Ranse.” He sniffs. There’s a lot of char in Eruvisan weapons. “They targeted your personnel quarters. They were trying to break in and take someone.”
I see. The attackers could have been after Allie, which means they don’t have her yet. “Contact me.”
He nods.
I terminate the call and focus on Ishula. “Find her.”
“Which exit did she use?”
“Main gate.”
She pivots and I follow. On my way out of the communication center, I order the palace staff to give Takoba or anyone else from my nightclub the highest priority to contact me, to have their calls go ahead of anyone, even Zai or the High Command. Then I jog after Ishula.
My heart pulses. Another thing will not be taken from me today.
My flotilla still waits in the area reserved for me, and few visitors are here. No military commanders. Very few remaining ambassadors.
“Trace the car,” Captain Ishula says into her implant. “We’re looking for the Humana ambassador. Yes, the lesser. Are you sure? Check the video feed and contact me.”
A porter overhears her and snorts. “Humana lesser? There’s a nobleman’s purse on her. She’s probably been sold off for parts by now.”
Captain Ishula blinks at the porter.
I eject my barbs. “Give me names.”
“I don’t know. Don’t know anything!” He swallows and scuttles off, a lot more focused on cleaning the entryway than he was moments ago.
But I don’t feel anger. It’s more of a slimy black sensation, like tearing apart the two halves of my own chest. I’m afraid he’s right.
And so help me, I will find every one of her pieces and put her back together myself if I have to.
Returning to other unanswerable questions, I nail Ishula with my cold fury. “Why didn’t my brother trust you?”
“I don’t know. I swear to you.”
“Are you loyal?”
“Yes.”
“Are you?”
“Yes,” she repeats in a flatter, icier tone. “I’m a blade. I’m loyal to the empire.”
“The empire? Or the emperor?”
She jerks her gaze at me again, ice cracking under pressure. “I am more loyal than a lesser!”
“Who almost saved Erion. He trusted her more than he trusted you. And if we are going to move forward, I need to know. Can I trust you?”
“Yes.”
“Can I trust you with Allie?”
She’s silent for another endless span. Then she studies the mouth of the palace.
Around the head are small carvings of the eternity symbol, ninety-six, the same sacred number of Allie’s and Esme’s tattoos. Ishula was raised a blade, like me, and she was once sent out on assignments across the empire. She ran into plenty of aliens, lessers and allies alike, but she’s been in the palace guard almost as long. And until just recently, there were never any lessers in the palace.
Ishula shakes her head slowly, then looks at me. “What is Allie?”
“My trusted adviser.”
Ishula’s face remains blank, but I sense disagreement mixed with disapproval.
“My empress,” I try. This word is almost gender-neutral, displacing me as emperor. “My Amante.”
“From the ancient friezes? The carvings in the portal to the arena?”
I have no idea. I’ve never seen them. “If Allie’s captured, I will tear apart this empire to get her back. She must always be safe.”
“No. No one should be that important to an emperor. Otherwise, whoever owns her owns the empire.”
“She owns herself.” I turn and stride back into the palace. Waiting isn’t my strong point. “I’m working my way up to a lease.”
“Ranse.” Ishula jogs in front of me and stops, arms out and wrists up. Not an outright threat, but a very insistent suggestion. “No one tears the empire apart. Not even you. There are rules.”
“You’re supposed to obey me.”
“Who upholds the rules if not the blades?”
This is true.
It’s so easy to compromise my values in a panic. I’ve barely been emperor for a shift, and I’m already coming unanchored. How long did it take my father to lose sight of himself in this ruler’s chair? How long for Erion?
Ishula waits.
“Find Allie.” I jog toward the palace command center.
“It’s only a lesser.” She paces me. “The empire’s eyes are on you. Put aside your feelings and execute your duty.”
I stop and face her. “Just like Erion at my father’s funeral?”
She closes her mouth.
I turn on my heel, and she runs silently beside me.
Please, wherever Allie is, don’t let me be too late.