In my twenty years of life, there were days when I thought I’d die and days when I was so tired or in pain or without hope that I wished I would die. But now, whole days went by without me ever thinking about dying at all. I was almost getting used to thinking beyond one day at a time, which was a huge step for me.
Except today. Today was going to be a completely iced monkey shit of a day.
Today was the day that Roan and I had been working toward for four days. We’d gone through footage, and I’d practiced what I’d say. I hoped it was enough. I hoped I’d picked the right things that would get through to the Aunare.
Either way, today, right now, I’d give my interview.
There was so much riding on this, and I almost wished I’d shared what I was going to do with Lorne. But I hadn’t.
And now it was too late.
Today, I’d show the Aunare who I was, who I would be, and why I wanted to lead them to war.
I would definitely survive this interview, but I desperately wanted to skip over the next few hours. And thinking that made me feel weighted down in piles of thick, murky guilt. I was going so soft that I was complaining about something that wasn’t even remotely dangerous. Nothing today would threaten my life.
What were a few unpleasant hours when they could help me change everything?
And still, I was sitting on a loveseat next to Lorne, staring at the man sitting in the chair across from me as if he were my opponent instead of my interviewer because, today, he was.
Himani might not truly be my enemy, but he was one of the Aunare’s most famous reporters. Which meant he was really good at uncovering secrets, and I was all too used to holding every secret I had with a death grip.
A death grip that I was about to loosen by choice and calculation.
It was supposed to be a small interview—just me, Lorne, and Himani—but the room was packed. I hadn’t been expecting so many people. No one else seemed surprised, so I guessed I was the clueless one here. Way too many people I didn’t know were peppering me with questions that didn’t matter—like if I was comfortable—which was no, I wasn’t. I was about to go live in front of trillions of people across the known universe. After so many years of trying to avoid cameras and being seen, this was a nightmare—to be stared at by countless people while I was forced to reveal myself—so, no, I wasn’t comfortable. Not even a little bit.
They kept asking if the lights were too bright. Yes, they were. But that didn’t mean that they would turn them down. Because I’d already asked that, and they said no.
But this was my life now. This was my choice. I’d survived too much to back down now. I had to make my life count. I had to make everything I did matter. Starting with this interview.
This was my first step to become the person I wanted to be.
I gritted my teeth to keep from snapping at one of Himani’s many assistants. He was swatting at me with a powder puff again. He grumbled in Aunare and when Lorne snapped sharply at the man, I was sure it was a good thing I didn’t understand Aunare.
I glanced at Lorne as the dude with the puff scrambled away. “Thanks.”
Lorne—skin glowing so soft his fao’ana were only just visible—reached out for my hand, and I took it. We were a team. A united front against our enemy. Only a small coffee table with three glasses of water on top separated us from Himani who was patiently waiting to begin the interview.
Himani was older than my father by at least ten years. His white hair was long and intricately braided in two plaits. He sat relaxed in the chair as if all these people—his crew there to record, not to mention his security, and team of assistants—didn’t bother him in the slightest. And that wasn’t even taking into account my parents standing off to the side, Roan, Fynea,—and then the team of people—both ours and Himani’s—who were there to make sure Lorne and I looked our best. Plus, our guards. So many guards.
Himani raised a brow at me—as if to ask me if I was ready to start.
My heart raced and I gave him a tiny shake of the head. I needed a second before we dove in.
I forced myself to breathe evenly as I took in the room, hoping that looking away from everyone staring would help me calm down. A real fire filled the fireplace beside us, giving off crackles and pops as the wood burned. The armchair Himani was sitting in was made from a metallic material that reflected the flickering firelight. And as I looked around the room, I realized that the placement of every knickknack scattered around the room—some of them Earther, some of them Aunare, and some of them altogether different—tried to give the illusion that this was a normal home, a normal interview, and that we were normal people. It tried and failed, at least to me. This interview was supposed to tell the Aunare people how I might act as their queen, which was so far from normal it wasn’t even in the same universe. But I needed it to do so much more.
I couldn’t rule a people that didn’t believe in me. I wouldn’t do that to the Aunare. I needed them to understand. I needed them to know. I needed them to see me as the one they wanted to be in command.
“You’re going to do great,” Lorne said, and I turned to him again.
The simple ring of gold around Lorne’s head glinted in the light, and I couldn’t help but think about how handsome, official, kingly he seemed right now. He tried to convince me to wear one, too, but I refused. I wasn’t their queen. Not yet. And I wasn’t going to put one on and have them hate me more.
Not when I needed them to see me as I was.
But if I did my job well today, then maybe they’d accept me as their queen. Some might even be glad that I was going to rule.
He squeezed my hand. “You’re going to have to start breathing.”
I took in a laughing, gasping breath. “Right.”
Air was important, but sometimes it was hard for me to remember that when I looked at him. I got lost. The kind of lost where I felt like I was tumbling and falling and spinning, but somehow, it wasn’t terrifying. Because he was here with me, and he made me feel safe anywhere. When I was with him, it was almost as if the last thirteen years hadn’t happened.
Almost.
Loving him didn’t erase the past, but it made it easier.
“You’re going to do great,” Lorne said again.
“Right,” I said again, but this time, I wasn’t sure I believed it.
His faith in me and our destiny together was disarming. It made me feel like I was somehow betraying him when I questioned it, but I couldn’t help it. I had so many questions about the past and the future that it was hard to focus on the present.
And yet, here I was. About to make everyone face the past that I’d lived and argue for saving the future.
There was a tension in the room that felt very similar to the feeling I got right before a fight. It was nervousness combined with a touch of anticipation and a stubborn, never-give-up need to win. I gripped that feeling tight. I would need it if I was going to get through this.
Because today, right now, I was going to show the Aunare exactly who I was.
I was about to signal that I was ready for Himani to begin, but Lorne changed that with one word.
“Amihanna.” The way he said my name—long and drawn out, with a soft comfort in his tone and an understanding of what I was feeling—made everything inside me shift.
My skin was suddenly bright and my fao’ana—the symbols on my arms and back—showed not only who I was and what I was capable of, my past, and my fragile destiny. The frenzied, ready-to-fight feeling slipped through my fingers, and all I was left with was a feeling that I needed to hide.
Damn it. That was exactly what I didn’t need.
I was wearing a back-baring halter top with no sleeves because Almya said it would be best, and I’d been too scared about how this was going to go to argue with her. The shirt was gorgeous, but it showed too much skin, especially when I was glowing. Clearly the shirt had been a mistake.
“You had to do that now?” I whispered to Lorne. I knew he still wouldn’t really understand why I was annoyed. He wore his fao’ana with pride, but it was different for me. I truly hated baring so much of my soul on my skin for everyone to see.
Lorne didn’t even look a little bit sorry for it.
“You did that on purpose,” I murmured quietly to him, aware that even if the cameras hovering around the room weren’t broadcasting yet, they might be recording.
“No, it wasn’t on purpose, but I would’ve if I’d thought of it.” He took a breath and relaxed his hold on his power. Instantly his skin glowed even brighter. His fao’ana that had been dimly on display earlier were now beacons drawing every eye in the room. All talking quieted as the small crowd in the room took in their King.
“Better?” he asked.
“No.” It wasn’t better for me, but I knew it was better for the interview that we were both showing our true selves to everyone.
One of the many hovering cameras buzzed toward my face. I wanted to walk out of the room, but my stubbornness—and Lorne’s grip on my hand—held me in place.
I had a purpose.
I was in command.
I just needed time to make the interview into what I wanted—what I needed.
“Are you ready?” Himani asked.
I gave him a sassy smile even though I was filled with fear and anxiety. “It’s probably too late to change my mind now.”
Himani laughed, but Lorne turned to me. “It’s never too late. You want them gone, they’re gone.” His tone was sharp, firm, kingly.
My father cleared his throat, and Lorne spared him one glance that put him in his place before focusing on me again.
“It’s never too late,” Lorne said again, this time soft and heavy with concern.
Oh man. Guilt rose up inside me, making my stomach ache.
It was too late because I had my own plans for this interview. If I was lucky, I was going to fulfill my promise to him today.
I caught Roan’s gaze across the room, and he gave me a nod. He thought I should’ve told Lorne about my plan for today, but I needed Lorne’s reaction to be real. I needed this to work more than I needed Lorne’s approval. I needed him to step up as much as I needed the Aunare to finally accept—or reject—me as their queen.
“It’s okay,” I said, glancing back at Himani and going for a lighthearted tone. I almost laughed at the sound of my father’s relieved breath. “Everyone’s here and ready. We might as well get it over with.”
Himani gave a nod to his assistant and red flashing lights lit on the cameras. There were six in total, surrounding me and Lorne and Himani at various angles.
“We’ll be live in a moment.”
One of the assistants in the back started counting down in Aunare. I knew those words because my guards used them so much when we were training together.
“Shehsa.” Five.
“Uhona.” Four.
“Shana.” Three.
“Resh.” Two.
From a place that felt far away, I could hear Himani giving a brief introduction in Earther English, but everything in my mind was quiet as I braced for the first question.
I could do this. I would do this. I would make them hear me so the Aunare would stop making me out to be the villain while ignoring the true evil that was already destroying them.
I would make them hear me so that maybe—just maybe—I could help the halfers and Earthers and Aunare who were stuck on Earth under the rule of an evil corporation.
If I did this right, I could save so many lives. Enough lives that I shouldn’t worry about anything other than getting through to the people watching.
Lorne squeezed my hand hard and I realized I’d missed the whole start of the interview.
Time to focus.
I released his hand and tried to act naturally, whatever the heck that meant.
“…Just before we started the live feed, Amihanna expressed that she wasn’t thrilled to be doing this interview. So, that’s where we’ll begin.” Himani’s gaze darted from the camera hovering in front of him to me. “I don’t love thinking that you don’t want to do this interview, Amihanna, but that already gives me so many questions to ask.” Himani’s clover green eyes seemed to glitter with curiosity. “For someone who has claimed to want to rule, you’d have to know that interviews would be part of your regular routine.”
Himani had a job that suited his soul and his fao’ana. He lived to ask questions and dive deeper into the inner workings of his subjects. But I didn’t want anyone diving deep into my head, especially not in front of such a massive audience.
This was going be tricky. Very, very tricky. “That’s not a question, and I don’t think I’ve ever said that I wanted to rule. Have I?” I said it teasingly, but it was a serious answer. I never said this was a job I wanted. I’d said that it was a job I’d take—partly out of obligation, partly out of love for Lorne. But it wasn’t as if I asked to be queen.
The way Himani’s skin glowed with my answer told me I might have given him something surprising. “I guess you haven’t said that, at least not now that I’m thinking about it. I believe you spoke about your destiny to rule when you were in the arena and about how you weren’t sure if the Aunare were worthy of you, but that’s something altogether different. Isn’t it?”
“It is.” I leaned closer to him. “I thought you had a list. One that a bunch of those people over there haggled about for weeks.” I motioned behind him to his assistants, and to Roan and Fynea. “I’m not sure any of these questions you’re asking me right now are on your list. Are they?”
He gave me a little sheepish grin that made me laugh. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I added a few in. Among friends. And I think we can call each other friends after waiting so long for the interview negotiations to conclude.”
That was probably the reason why Himani had the following that he did. He asked the questions people wanted answered, not the ones on some stupid list. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know the difference. I pretty much ignored everything about those negotiations.”
“Amihanna.” This time it was my mother hissing my name.
“It’s fine, Mom.”
Since Roan was one of the hagglers over the list of questions, I knew nothing would be approved that I wouldn’t want to answer. Plus, I was about to play a very public game of bait and switch. As soon as Himani gave me a window, I would take over.
But my mother was still giving me the eye. “The interview will be more natural if I haven’t prepared for it.” It was a lie. I had prepared. Just not how she meant. And as excuses went, that one shouldn’t have gotten me very far, but Mom nodded like it made sense.
Lorne was quiet next to me, and I wasn’t sure if I was doing a good job or if his silence meant something else. But I didn’t dare look at him. “What’ve you got for me, Himani?”
“Going back to that day in the arena when you unexpectedly took the test to become one of the Aunare’s most elite warriors—you didn’t seem to be shy about anything when you spoke to me that day. You didn’t seem to have anything to hide. In fact, I’d say you had more than enough things to say that we hadn’t heard before from anyone.” He tilted his head a little. “You know, I spent the days and days of negotiations watching everything I could find about you—that arena interview, your short speech in the hallway here after the attack on your father’s estate, and all the footage of you on Abbadon, and a few others that I was able to dig up. It’s been fascinating getting to see you in action, but the more I watched the more confused I became. It seemed so out of character for you to talk to me in front of so many people. What made you speak up when you were so used to hiding? Was it my questions or that there were so many people there or something else entirely?”
“Your oversize holographic head was in the way,” I said flatly.
Himani laughed like I wanted him to.
It was the truth, though. “You didn’t really give me a choice. I had to answer your questions, or you wouldn’t move.”
Himani huffed. “I’ll give you that, but that wasn’t the case the whole time. You were pretty free with your words that day after our deal was made.”
I’d watched the replay of that day, and the whole thing made me cringe. I couldn’t point to one thing and say that was why I spilled my guts because it was more general than that. “I think it was mostly anger that made me answer your questions. I guess I was sick of it. I guess I still am.”
I saw Lorne stiffen out of the corner of my eye, but I kept my gaze focused on Himani. I wouldn’t get through this if I looked at Lorne now.
“Sick of what exactly?” Himani asked.
“Sick of everything.” I almost left it at that, but my mother caught my eye and waved her hand in the air in tight circles as if that would somehow will me to keep talking.
Her annoying little Mom move worked.
Fine. “I was sick of everyone assuming how I felt or what I thought. Sick of everyone blaming me for things that weren’t my fault while accepting none of the blame themselves.” I saw a segue and took it. “But mostly, I was sick of the inaction of the Aunare people. It hit me that day when I was about to watch someone die in an arena again that maybe the Aunare didn’t care about others’ lives enough to take on any risk themselves. That’s been the toughest for me to understand about you.”
Bait. This was my bait.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you—and when I say you, I mean the collective Aunare—didn’t do anything when SpaceTech started slaughtering your own people. You did nothing for thirteen years. You’ve done nothing now. How can you do nothing when others are suffering and dying? And then in the next breath, how can you call me names, tell me I’m unworthy, and point a finger at me saying this war is somehow my fault? Even after I saved Ta’shena? And this morning I got a report on how many assassination attempts might be tried today, and I thought, what did I do to deserve this?”
Himani’s eyes went wide, and I was willing to bet good money that his shock was genuine. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“It’s not been very welcoming here, that’s for sure. How could it be when assassins want me dead and your colleagues are shouting to anyone that will listen that I’m to blame for the war?” I didn’t give him time to respond. “Back to your question, though.” I leaned toward him slightly, hoping to draw him closer to where I wanted, as I kept talking. “I guess I was sitting in the arena box that day and watching everyone else do nothing while Ulshan slid closer to death. He was just a man—an honorable officer of the law—trying to earn a better life. That he would die in the arena trying to pass some stupid test? It just pissed me off. I couldn’t watch him die. And for the first time, I thought I should do something even though no one else would. I thought maybe that meant I was more Earther than Aunare and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. As I jumped down into the arena, I wondered if your media was right, and I should leave. Not because of their bogus reasons about me not being fit for the position or worthy or somehow at fault for the war, but because of the way that you were all going to watch Ulshan die. In that moment, I’d lost complete and utter respect for all of you, and if doing nothing was what the Aunare did best, then I wasn’t sure I wanted to be Aunare anymore.”
There were all kinds of grumbles from everyone in the room, but I wouldn’t sit there and lie. It was a bold thing to say, but I was done being quiet. It was time for me to speak. It was time for them to listen.
They had to understand now or they would die.
Not by my hand, but by SpaceTech’s.
“You don’t still think that do you?” Lorne sounded equally hurt and horrified.
“Think what?” I wanted to reach out to him and soothe the hurt, but I couldn’t. I had to focus on maneuvering Himani’s questions.
“That you don’t want to be here, be Aunare, rule with me?”
There wasn’t anything in his tone, but his frequencies shifted enough that I reached for his hand. I couldn’t stop myself no matter how many people were watching. “I can’t leave you. That’s not up in the air anymore.” I didn’t leave any room for questioning that in my tone, and I hoped that eased his heart.
“But?” he asked. “What about the rest of it?”
This was tricky. Trickier than I thought it would be because I didn’t want to hurt Lorne, but I had to be honest. “I just…” I wasn’t sure how to say it, and this was too important for me to mess up. I needed a second.
After a moment, I began again. “When your father was ruling, I understood that he was manipulating things. I got that. When you became king, you freed the media, and that’s changed some of what I’m seeing reported now. You were right. I do see that on the official polling forty-nine point seven percent want me to stay, to marry you, to be queen, but on one station yesterday, that number was only twenty-eight. Which feels pretty low to me. There’s a small percentage that are undecided, but there’s also a big portion of the Aunare that are loud and angry and dangerous, and for whatever reason, the media is still fueling that anger. What scares me is that some of them will feel forced to have me as their ruler. They didn’t choose me. And while that might be something that’s normal for the Aunare, I know what it feels like to hate the person who has control over your life. I won’t do that. And I don’t want to push the Aunare to war and be blamed for it. It’s wrong on so many levels. Which means that I can’t afford to stay quiet anymore. Not if I can change their minds today. Because that minority has become a mob, and if they can’t wake up, if they can’t see the truth through the lies, then this war is already lost.”
“How are you planning on changing their minds?” Himani asked.
“My words in the arena weren’t enough. Some of them are saying I made everything up, which is insanity. But it’s also something that I can fix. I’m going to show your viewers what actually happened thirteen years ago and what has been happening since.” But it wasn’t just that.
This was the part that might upset Lorne.
“None of the Aunare did anything to help us.” I turned to Lorne before he could speak. “I know you wanted to, but you didn’t.” My father started to speak up, and I caught his gaze and shook my head. “Not until it was almost too late to save me. And I could let that go. I could say that it was in the past and we could move forward from here. But we still haven’t acted against SpaceTech, even after everything they’ve done. We’re still here, not doing anything after a major attack on your capital city, after they destroyed one of your vacation planets, slaughtered thousands of families. They’re still murdering your—our—people and no one is doing anything.”
I turned to Lorne. “You’re arguing with your advisors and our allies all day, but even you’re not doing anything. I don’t want to come at you like this, but I’ve tried talking to you—” I looked at my father. “—to all of you, and nothing is changing. I don’t understand why. I can’t see a future down this path for any of the Aunare, and I don’t see any hope for the Earthers, and that’s making it harder for me to let go of my anger about the past. I know I need to let it go, but I can’t. I can’t.”
I looked at Himani. “The Aunare have more tech, more firepower, more people than the Earthers. We can end this war before it really gets going, but I can’t be the only one who wants to fight. I can’t—I won’t—fight alone anymore.”
This was it. I was going to change some minds today. I had to. “I’m hoping by my being here, by showing you—not just telling you—about my life and my experiences and what happened to all the Aunare on Earth and its colonies, you’ll be ready to take on this war with me instead of blaming me for it.”
“No one should blame you for anything.” Lorne’s voice was cold and quiet, but I could feel the hum of his anger simmering. I hoped it was anger at the war or at the minority of Aunare who despised me or maybe anger at himself for not taking a stronger position against his weak, war-fearing advisors. But it very well might be aimed at me.
If that was the case, I’d deal with it. Just not right now.
One thing at a time. I would get through the rest of the interview, and then I hoped I could salvage my relationship with Lorne.
Either way, saving my heart wasn’t worth the lives of so many innocents. This was more important. So, I pushed my worry about Lorne’s anger away.
“When this is over, if the Aunare still think the same thing—that I’m not fit to rule, that there should be no war, that SpaceTech should be allowed to destroy the Aunare—then I guess I’ll have some difficult choices to make. Because I won’t sit here and do nothing. I can’t. But I also won’t rule a people that hate me so much. I won’t sit here and take the attention from where it’s needed. Because while the reporters are busy digging into my life, my past, my future, they’re ignoring the bigger truth about the Aunare and the danger that we are in.”
The Aunare had believed SpaceTech’s lies for too long. I had to make them see the evil that they were dealing with and hopefully show them that I wasn’t their enemy.
This interview was the only way I could do that. It was the one time I had everyone’s attention live. Which meant that the media wouldn’t be able to mutilate my message through short, quippy clips.
So, I was taking over this interview.
It was my platform now.