《Concubine 999》


 Chapter 1: Lady Zarathenia

    Chapter 1: Lady Zarathenia


    "It doesn''t look like home anymore," Zara thought.  "How can I leave home to become a concubine, but barely recognize the home I''m leaving?"


    The remnants of war littered the landscape of planet Ankali. Zarathenia pressed her cheek against the window to get a better view from the shuttle. She¡¯d seen three different Ankali battleships on the ground during just this journey alone, one of them still smoking as tiny moving people-dots tried to sort out the debris. Huge drones, or the ordinance they carried, had sheared off sections of buildings, or left craters in the streets. Sections of the completely pristine forest now contained smoldering husks of fighter-class ships that had careened into them from a starting point somewhere near the upper limits of the atmosphere. And everywhere, just everywhere, lay the twisted wreckage from the constant bombings.


    She¡¯d heard that on the larger continent, Entroth, there was less damage. But Entroth contained only two things, volcanic wasteland, and the area known as the glass sea. There weren¡¯t any large cities on Entroth, and the native people living there, known as the Zeka and the Rathuni, didn¡¯t really have much to offer the Galactic Empire. So, the empire had focused efforts on the smaller continent of Entrina, where all of the cities were, and where the Count and his family lived. Zarathenia spent most of the last decade underground, in bunkers, her only available hobbies the reading the vast cultural library of Ankali, and sewing. She liked to make things from scraps or help mend soldiers'' uniforms. But, she still remembered Ankali before the war, beautiful and pristine and largely peaceful. Were there problems in Ankali back then? Yes. The Entrinans had treated the Zeka and Rathuni poorly, and the rapid growth of the cities following a drought caused many people to sell their farms which meant more crime, and more poverty.


    But, they had been trying to resolve these things, they had been working towards a better future for Ankali. Why, then, did the Galactic Empire attack under the premise that the plight of the common Ankalian was too great for them to ignore? Why did they say that Ankali cried out for liberation from oppression? No, the Galactic Empire didn¡¯t care about the Zeka and Rathuni. They didn¡¯t care about the poverty in the cities or the difficulty of previously agrarian citizens now trying to find work unrelated to fields and herds. They didn¡¯t care about the dangers on the streets for young women turned out by their families due to being able to feed another mouth. The Galactic Empire cared about resources, and despite any recent problems, Ankali possessed resources in abundance.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for this, my dear,¡± Countess Zorazenia said, leaning forward to touch her daughter on the knee. ¡°I know you volunteered, but I¡¯m still so very sorry.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s better me than Thalia,¡± Zara murmured, ¡°She¡¯d be at too much of a disadvantage. And heaven forbid we send one of the twins.¡± Thalia¡¯s blindness, Zara knew, would endanger her on Viverides, even if she did make it a point to never let it get in the way of her doing anything at all, like planning to drug her sister at breakfast so she couldn¡¯t get on the shuttle. Zara was thankful that she¡¯d caught wind of the plan and reversed their drinks. Thalia would now wake up this afternoon to find her sister already gone.


    As for the twins, well¡­ Zara knew with absolute certainty that the highest thing on her cousins¡¯ list would be murder. And she didn¡¯t think murder would go over well toward trying to keep the peace with the Galactic Empire.


    ¡°Please stay out of trouble, dear. Do not worry so much about us, and do what you need to in order to survive on Viverides. We¡¯ve been able to get along fine without the assistance of the Galactic Empire for many thousands of years.¡±


    ¡°Maybe so, but we could use medicine, food, water, and resources to rebuild the drought and war-affected areas.¡± Zara held up her hand when her mother started to protest. ¡°You know it¡¯s true. Just¡­ Look after Wiggles and Margot.¡±


    Her father had said nothing. Zara knew this was killing him. To have to send his daughter to Viverides as a hostage concubine wounded his pride, and injured his honor as a father and as a leader. Zara reached across to him, the private berth on the shuttle intimate enough that she could easily take his hand. ¡°There are almost a thousand concubines, Father. I doubt I¡¯ll even be noticed.¡± She tried to smile at him, to cheer him up with an attitude of nonchalance and adventure. But the sad, defeated look on his face worried her more than all of the tales and rumors of Viverides.


    ¡°We have a present for you, dear. Of course, we¡¯re sending Trisla and Rowan to Viverides, and they¡¯ll look after and attend to you. But, we were also told you could bring a guard. Your father and I worried about what protector might be best. We wanted someone who could not be corrupted, who would be loyal to you no matter what. So, we decided to send Xazrozith with you.¡± The Countess rang a bell and the partition door opened. The creature which stepped through stood over seven feet tall, not including the twisted black horns swept back high on his head. He had to crouch to enter the chamber. Thick bone spikes erupted from various parts of his body, his shoulders, his forearms, and even his back. Long chitinous claws adorned his hands, but the claws were even longer on his strange raptor-like feet. The face of the creature appeared humanoid, but with red eyes. Strange rune-like markings on his forehead and cheeks were made all the more mysterious by the thick cloak of long black hair. When one considered the whiplike tail thrashing around behind him, Xaz looked like old Earth¡¯s conception of a demon. ¡°Xaz,¡± the Countess said, ¡°Please look after Lady Zarathenia. Protect her. Obey her. And stay out of trouble. No attacking anyone unless they are hurting Lady Zarathenia or she directs you to do so. Do you understand?¡±


    The alien-looking creature let out a chittering noise, effortlessly balancing despite the turbulence the shuttle experienced. ¡°We understand the words. We are released from the service of the Moonlight Nobles to now protect Lady Inkblossom. Yes, pretty, pretty. Yes.¡± All of Xaz¡¯s too-long fingers twitched in a rhythmic ripple, and then he bowed, albeit carefully due to the length of his horns.


    ¡°Are you sure, Mother? Do you not need him here, to protect you and Father?¡± Zara asked cautiously, long since used to the incredibly bizarre mannerisms of the creature. Her parents had obtained Xaz long ago, during a tense negotiation with the Rathuni. The Rathuni kept Xazrozith in a cage in their village square, taunting him and tormenting him freely. Many of the Rathuni wanted to kill him, believing him one of the ¡®Ekredai¡¯, creatures from other planes who feasted on the Rathuni, but there was no evidence that he¡¯d killed anyone. The Elders of the Rathuni, not wanting to chance to anger more of the Ekredai, didn¡¯t really want Xaz¡¯s blood on their hands. So, when the Count offered to take Xaz off of their hands, they saw it as a winning move. The Rathuni got rid of one of the Ekredai, but they could claim themselves blameless for anything that happened to him. In return for saving his life, Xaz pledged his to the Count to protect his family, ¡®As long as my reflection remains, and the sky contains blessed stars¡¯. Xaz had a strange penchant for using nicknames and behaving in a vaguely feral manner but was ultimately rather harmless unless commanded to attack.


    Xaz scurried out of the private berth, leaving the trio alone again. Zara thanked her parents for the gift. She did feel better about going to Viverides with a protector who could be trusted. Xaz had no use for money, and couldn¡¯t easily be bribed. His strange demeanor and mannerisms made him too unpredictable for anyone to try to use in a scheme or to generally corrupt. Still, Zara wasn¡¯t sure how much he could really do if trouble arose. She¡¯d heard many rumors about the Emperor¡¯s palace guard, the Korkudai, not to mention the robot overseers of the concubines, the Adjudicants. And, of course, she¡¯d read numerous tales of concubines tortured or killed for the slightest offense, for the most minor slip of the tongue or breach of protocol. Even if Viverides was only a tenth as dangerous as the tales made it out to be, she¡¯d still need to be on guard every waking minute.


    Zara tried not to sigh too loudly as she returned to looking out the window. She didn¡¯t want her parents to pick up on the level of deep despair bubbling underneath her determination. Nothing like this had ever factored into her life plans. She¡¯d hoped to become a scholar, to become learned and wise, and able to advise Thalia when her sister became Countess. Perhaps she¡¯d have married some Zeka or Rathuni leader in order to bring more peace and stability to Ankali. Her life would have been lived in service to her planet, certainly, but the kind of service she chose for herself, service that included seeing her family, friends, and pets regularly. Instead, now she would become a Hostage Concubine for the Endless Emperor, a man she might only meet once in her entire life. Or never meet at all. At least¡­ At least she could console herself with one thing. Viverides had the best libraries in the galaxy, and even the lowliest concubines could request loanable texts be transmitted to them. She could still study and learn, just¡­ Not in a collegiate setting.


    As she pressed her fingers to her forehead to try to stave off a headache, Zara caught a glimpse of the spaceport appearing in the distance. It didn¡¯t have any damage, likely because it had been one of the first things the Galactic Empire had worked towards capturing during its conquest of Ankali. They¡¯d definitely upgraded it in the last few years, adding additional shuttle bays and larger docks to hold more ships. Although she could identify both Ankali and Empire vessels, one stood out among the rest ¨C a royal cruiser. Painted stark white, but lined with glittering golden trim, it shone like a jewel among freighters and fighters. The entire area above the massively tall observation deck looked like a complicated crown, with towering spires and vast curlicues of metalwork for no other reason than aesthetic beauty. Zara peered at the control deck, set towards the midsection of the ship, wondering who the palace planet had sent to play keeper for their newest acquisition.


    As they docked, Zara noticed her mother touch a handkerchief hidden in the palm of her hand to her eyes. She pretended not to notice. As long as she seemed determined and slightly excited, her parents wouldn¡¯t worry as much. Zara knew she must not falter, she must not cry or complain. Making this worse for her parents would do nothing to change the inevitable. The emperor would have his concubine no matter the cost, even if it meant he had to get rid of an entire noble family to install a new one. ¡°Well,¡± she said loudly, turning to look at her parents and then motioned to the royal cruiser, ¡°If that isn¡¯t the most ostentatious display of wealth ever, I¡¯ll change my name to Lady Mudthenia of the House of Dirtballs.¡± Her mother forced a smile, but her father simply nodded once as he eyed the cruiser.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    It took longer than Zara hoped for the signal to be given for her to disembark. As much as she loved her parents, and cherished every last minute she could spend with them, she didn¡¯t know how long her resolve would hold out. Right now, she just needed to get through this, get to whenever she could next be alone, and then let herself fall to pieces. And she would see her family again. Viverides'' rules allowed each concubine a yearly visit from their family. And it wasn¡¯t like Viverides was completely cut off from the core-net, though Zara knew all transmissions in either direction would be watched and scrutinized by the Adjudicants.


    Saying goodbye to her parents blurred into an overwhelming rush of controlling her emotions. ¡°I will be fine,¡± she later remembered herself saying over and over, perhaps attempting to reassure herself, just as much as her parents. ¡°I will be fine.¡± It sunk into her head like a mantra. No matter what, she would be fine. Eventually.


    When she exited the private berth, Xaz stood waiting. Zara could hear her mother sobbing inside the berth, and her father¡¯s gentle voice trying to console her. Every ounce of her willpower was needed to force her to say, ¡°Come along, Xaz.¡± One foot in front of the other, she headed to exit the shuttle into the spaceport.


    ¡°You are the Lady Zarathenia of the House of Kalimat, second daughter of the Count and Countess of Kalimat, rulers of the planet of Ankali?¡± The question came from the robot awaiting her just beyond the confines of the shuttle. An Adjudicant. Zarathenia had seen pictures of them, but finally viewing one up close caused Zara to shiver. Robots weren¡¯t common on Ankali. They had droids and drones, but artificial intelligence had been deemed a threat to the happiness of the citizenry, so autonomous robots had never been developed, and in fact were disallowed by Ankali law.


    She found herself staring at it. Even though it was roughly humanoid in shape, its ominous bearing caused her to recoil lightly, backing into Xaz, who made a faint questioning noise as he peered at the robot. Zara could hear Xaz sniffing at the air, something he often did around new people, in order to memorize their scent. No attempt had been made to coat the robot¡¯s exterior white metal with something more like skin, and various panels and housings could be seen, occasionally dotted with ruby-red light panels. The robot wore the cloak of its station, with flowing robes hanging from intricately designed silver pauldrons and a hood made of metal pulled up over its head so that only the expressionless face could be seen. Its eyes deviated from the light-colored metal used elsewhere on its body and instead appeared to be made of some shiny black substance. They weren¡¯t lit from within and lacked any spark of life, and Zara wondered if they were simply decorative, something to put those looking at the robot more at ease. Fully articulated fingers held an intellipad, and when Zara replied that she was, indeed, the person in question, she watched as the robot began to swiftly move its fingers over the interface. Ah yes. For fear of corruption, the Adjudicants were not made to pair with or connect to any other device. Should their code deviate from normal at any of the regular checks, even by a single character, they would be immediately decommissioned and melted into scrap.


    As Zara inspected the robot¡¯s legs, finding them to be less human and more constructed like that of a metal version of a deer or gazelle, she heard its not particularly robotic-sounding voice begin once more.  ¡°As per the peace agreement with the planet Ankali, you are hereby compelled into the service of His Supreme and Galactic Majesty, Ruler of the Vast and Magnificent Fourth Empire, Khatar Prestoris III, The Endless Emperor, Forever May He Reign, as his nine hundred and ninety-ninth Hostage Concubine. Confirm now that you do so freely and of your own will, and it shall be recorded for the archives.¡±


    ¡°I serve freely and of my own will,¡± Zara confirmed, trying not to sound hesitant. She wasn¡¯t sure if she hoped her parents heard her or not.


    ¡°Accepted. Follow me.¡±


    The robot turned and began walking away before Zara could even protest. ¡°Wait. What about my maids? What about my¡­?¡±


    ¡°Everything has been arranged. Follow!¡±


    The sharp command gave Zara a start and caused a faint growl to come from Xaz. Not wanting to cause trouble so early in the proceedings, Zara started to jog a little to keep up with the robot, though as she did, she glanced back at the shuttle, hoping to see a glimpse of her mother or father. No such sight could be found, however, and in the end, they¡¯d turned a corner before Zara could manage to even consider a last lingering look at Ankali in the distance. Nonetheless, she promised herself that she would see it again. She would return home someday, no matter what it took.


    ¡°Do you have a name? A¡­designation?¡± she asked the Adjudicant as she caught up with it. ¡°If you are to be the Adjudicant I interact with, then¡­¡±


    The robot moved swiftly through the corridors of the station, and it took Zara considerable effort to keep up. She noticed that the normally busy spaceport now appeared completely deserted. Even the little shops selling Ankali souvenirs or hot meals had been closed down. Had they closed it because of the royal ship? Or did the empire just not approve of snacks? Zara wasn¡¯t certain.


    ¡°You may call me Ixo, as I find it is easier for humanoids to say than ¡®One-X-Zero¡¯. I am the Silver Adjudicant for the Forty-Third Ward, which is where you will live. A Bronze Adjudicant will be assigned to your quarters.¡±


    As they traveled further into the spaceport, the silence became more and more unnerving. Even the waiting areas, usually full of rambunctious families and tired businessmen and cranky mechanics contained not a soul. Had they cleared the entire spaceport for this? Zara shivered at the loneliness of it, and wished she¡¯d brought one of her shawls.


    Eventually, Ixo led her down a connecting corridor onto the ship. Here, at least, there were signs of life. A few crewmembers in crisp white jumpsuits with gold lining rushed here and there, though they pointedly avoided Ixo and Zara, and if they couldn¡¯t, they bowed low enough that they surely could only see Zara¡¯s feet. She wished she¡¯d worn nicer shoes than the scuffed black flats she favored in the bunker. Zara tried to figure out where they¡¯d put Rowan and Trisla, but she didn¡¯t see anyone besides the crew members.


    ¡°This way,¡± Ixo said as a sliding door opened to reveal a room containing only a creepy-looking medical chair in the center of the room, a few overhead lights, and a low counter. The rest of the room glowed from the whiteness of it, so bright that it made Zara squint. Her eyesight had become sensitive to light after years in the dark bunker. Ixo appeared to notice, and asked, ¡°Is there a problem with your eyes?¡±


    ¡°No, just not good with bright lights.¡±


    This caused the robot a momentary pause before it lifted one hand to motion at the chair. ¡°Sit, please. Let us begin the examination and interview.¡±


    Zara sat in the terribly uncomfortable chair, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity with her feet lifted off the ground. After she did, Ixo came over and moved her right arm, locking it into place with a cuff before three rather large needles extended from a mechanism on the chair and plunged into her skin. Zara hissed and winced, but truthfully, it didn¡¯t hurt much more than getting a vaccine shot, just¡­in triplicate. The sound of air pressure being released, an almost pneumatic noise, issued from somewhere behind the chair, and an ice-cold liquid began to flow into Zara¡¯s arm. She shivered violently, suddenly chilled all over.


    ¡°To your knowledge, do you now, or have you ever, had a communicable disease?¡± Ixo asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Other health problems?¡±


    Zara thought about it for a moment and then answered truthfully, ¡°I inhaled some toxic chemicals during the early years of the war and my lungs were scarred. It can cause breathing issues and worse if I don¡¯t regularly take medication.¡±


    Ixo inputted this data into his intellipad and then said, ¡°This health problem is acceptable.¡±


    ¡°Is it? Is any health problem acceptable, really?¡± Zara asked, but then realized she was being combative for no good reason and quieted down.


    ¡°Any emotional or mental illnesses?¡±


    ¡°The regular amount you¡¯d get from watching a massive intergalactic authoritarian regime attempt to genocide your people in a brutal and bloody way, I suppose.¡±


    Ixo didn¡¯t appear to like this answer and simply repeated the question. ¡°Any emotional or mental illnesses?¡±


    Zara relented and just answered, ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Are you a virgin?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Zara didn¡¯t realize that mattered.


    ¡°If you are not a virgin, is there any possibility that you are currently pregnant?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been living in a bunker with my extended family since I was eleven years old. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve been getting up to many sexual shenanigans with them. But if you must absolutely know, then no. I mean yes. I mean I¡¯m¡­. I haven¡¯t participated¡­in any¡­sex.¡± Zara sighed and looked away from Ixo. ¡°Good grief.¡±


    ¡°One last question,¡± Ixo said, not at all disturbed by Zara¡¯s embarrassment over the whole thing. ¡°Do you intend to do any harm to the Emperor or the Imperial family?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Zara said, her voice dipping into a quiet, and solemn tone. Perhaps she¡¯d have wanted that once, but now, now she just wanted peace for Ankali.


    Ixo moved over to the chair and pressed a button. The three needles withdrew from Zara¡¯s arm, and the robot quickly applied one long bandage to cover all three holes. When he stepped back, he eyed the intellipad and began rapidly pressing buttons. This continued for a good two minutes before he pronounced. ¡°All results are nominal and acceptable. You have now been injected with the Imperial Nano Agent, also called ¡®INA¡¯. This nanotechnology will not only track you no matter where you go in the galaxy, but will also monitor your health. Most importantly, it gives the Emperor control over certain aspects of your person, such as your ability to conceive a child, among other things.¡±


    ¡°What¡­other things?¡±


    ¡°Those things are at the Emperor¡¯s discretion to divulge.¡±


    Zara narrowed her eyes, but she knew she literally could not complain. Either she accepted her lot and the restrictions put upon her by the laws of Viverides, or they¡¯d request a new hostage concubine. Resigned to her fate, she rubbed her arm gently and stood. Xaz, who had been standing near the doorway the entire time, silent and watchful, crept forward and murmured, ¡°Lady Inkblossom? You are not too hurt from puncturing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Xaz.¡±


    But, in truth, she really wasn¡¯t certain she would be.

 Chapter 2: Begonia House

    <h3 style="text-align: center">Begonia House


    Interstellar travel, she discovered, made Zara queasy. Ixo waited outside the restroom while she puked her guts out for twenty minutes upon arrival in the Viverides system. When she finally had nothing left in her stomach, she cleaned herself up and then wobbled to the exit looking pale and haggard and sporting a wet spot on her loose-fitting dress. Zara paused, catching the sight of herself in the mirrors near the door. She looked rough. Her family had eschewed all finery during the war, and she¡¯d become skilled at making her own clothes out of scraps or repurposing old clothes into new garments. She¡¯d eventually made things for the entire family and their servants, contributing what little she could to keep the household¡¯s finances down. But, dressing in homespun clothes left her looking like a ragamuffin. Her lack of makeup made the dark circles under her deep brown eyes more evident. Having been underground for so long, her pale skin hadn¡¯t been damaged by the sun, but it had taken on a sallow tint. Zara¡¯s once-lustrous long hair, so deeply brown it neared black, had become stringy and oily from lack of proper care. The soft gray dress she wore hung loose around her, though she¡¯d made it specifically to be comfy rather than fashionable, including the two big pockets large enough to carry an intellipad or a ball of yarn or whatever else she didn¡¯t want in her hands.


    She looked like a homeless woman compared to even a normal crew member on the royal cruiser.


    It hadn¡¯t really been noticeable on Ankali. Nobody paid much attention to their appearance during the war. And it was important that the best fabric go to the soldiers for uniforms and to hospitals for wound dressings and blankets. But now, after seeing rosy-cheeked crew members in makeup with hair swept up into fancy coiffures, Zara felt like the galaxy¡¯s ugliest pug dog. She tried pinching her cheeks to make them pinken, but it just made her look overheated. With a heavy sigh, she shook her head and left to join Ixo.


    Through the viewing monitor in the lounge, Zara watched as they approached Viverides. The planet¡¯s purple oceans surrounded a single large continent in the northern hemisphere. Wispy clouds encircled the globe, and a few stronger patches indicated storms. With night having fallen on half the planet, brightly lit splotches indicated cities all along the western seaboard, the most populated area. There, somewhere among all of those twinkling lights, would be the Imperial Palace nestled deep within the massive Forbidden City.


    But they would not be traveling to the Forbidden City. The lowest-ranked Hostage Concubines lived miles away in the Walled City of Ebonrue. It was said of Ebonrue that the only way for a Hostage Concubine to leave was in a golden litter, having been sent for by the Imperial Palace, or by throwing oneself into the Rosepetal River, so named because of the heaps of rose petals that would flow downstream past Ebonrue after the morning sweeping of the Forbidden City.


    ¡°We will travel the rest of the way by shuttle,¡± Ixo said. ¡°Follow.¡±


    In the shuttle, Zara finally met up with Rowan and Trisla, both of whom immediately mobbed her with overconcern for her well-being, though Rowan in a much more boisterous way than reserved, mute Trisla. Rowan lifted up Zara¡¯s arm soon after spying the bandage and demanded of Ixo, ¡°Did you do this?¡± while Trisla took off her shawl and put it around Zara¡¯s shoulders so as to help her hide the wet spot on her dress. The pair had been employed by House Kalimat for years, and had worked as Zara¡¯s servants since she¡¯d moved to the bunker. Despite being their employer, she counted them among her closest friends. Zara wasn¡¯t exactly sure how well they¡¯d do in Viverides, however, between Trisla¡¯s muteness and Rowan¡¯s headstrong rejection of polite etiquette and complete eschewing of definite gender identity. She could only hope that they tempered each other¡¯s personalities.


    Ixo ignored the question and batted away Xaz¡¯s tail as it ventured too close for the robot¡¯s comfort. ¡°I will be transmitting the Code of Viverides to your intellipad. Read and memorize it as soon as possible. Your adherence to these rules is required at all times, and any violation may result in penalties, imprisonment, torture, or death.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like light, pleasant reading. I look forward to it,¡± Zara replied, trying to keep the sourness out of her voice and not really succeeding.


    ¡°Your sarcasm has been detected and noted. A demerit has been issued,¡± Ixo proclaimed as he motioned for them to sit. ¡°We will be landing shortly.¡±


    ¡°A demerit? Just for that?¡± Rowan asked incredulously. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡±


    Zara placed a hand on Rowan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t. It¡¯s not worth it.¡± Secretly, however, she found herself glad that Rowan had little fear about speaking up when need be, even if she knew it might lead to trouble down the road.


    Rowan grumbled despite Zara¡¯s words, eying the robot with malice. ¡°I could take him. He¡¯s just a pile of nuts and bolts.¡±


    Ixo tilted his head, ¡°Attacking an Adjudicant without provocation is a level three offense and punishable by imprisonment or removal of a hand.¡±


    Rowan considered it for a moment before replying, ¡°Might be worth it. I¡¯d be a badass with hooks.¡±


    For the first time since leaving Ankali, Zara laughed.


    Rule 1: The mandate of the Emperor is sacrosanct. Your obedience and loyalty to him must be total and without question. Other romantic entanglements are not permitted. Fornication with others is not permitted.


    Begonia House was less of a palace and more of an old country cottage. Ixo had mentioned that this particular ward, Ward 43, had been outside of the walls of Ebonrue until about a decade prior. However, with the growth of the Emperor¡¯s harem over the years, this area had been purchased from local craftsmen and the walls were extended to contain it. For this reason, Begonia House did not smell of begonias, but of cheese. Before it had been the residence of a Hostage Concubine, the front room had been the shop of a cheesemonger. The scent of cheese permeated every part of the building. So, when Rowan announced, ¡°Lady Zara, the basement is full of cheese,¡± she found herself not at all surprised.


    ¡°Everything is going to smell of cheese in short order,¡± Zara said, and Trisla nodded, giving her the sign for ¡®stinky¡¯ in reply. ¡°And we¡¯re going to smell of cheese too, I suppose. Is the cheese at least tasty, Rowan?¡±


    ¡°Not sure, milady. Bit afraid if I eat it, I might die. And I¡¯m too pretty to die.¡±


    ¡°Feed a piece to Xaz. He doesn¡¯t get ill easily.¡±


    With Xaz¡¯s help, It was soon determined that the cheese wasn¡¯t just edible, but rather delicious.


    To try to get the smell of cheese out of Begonia House, they opened up all of the doors and windows on the first day as they cleaned. Every corner hosted cobwebs long since absent the spiders who built them, or dust so fine it felt like grease upon one¡¯s fingers. Grass higher than a person¡¯s knees obscured the stone-lined path to the door. The windows had collected so much grime that if you looked out of them, the world appeared as blobs of distorted color, like a depressed Impressionist¡¯s canvas. Even though the lane contained other, similar cottages, many appeared unoccupied. Perhaps these empty houses awaited the 1000th Hostage Concubine. When the residents of Begonia House waved at the few people they saw in the distance, going about their lives, none of them waved back. Instead, those people scurried away, unwilling to become entangled in the affairs of the newest Hostage Concubine.


    Begonia House contained little of note beyond the cheese. Each room had furniture appropriate to it, but none of the furniture matched. The sitting room held a green velour sofa, faded red-and-gold brocade armchairs, and several holographic landscapes of an unnamed planet hanging on the walls. In the corner, a large orange clay pot sprouted the enormous feathery fronds of some dried plant. One of the walls was a floor-to-ceiling viewscreen for entertainment and communication, but the bottom right quarter sported a dent as if someone once kicked it. Now it just showed a frantic array of bright colors in that section, though the rest worked as it should.


    The rest of the ground floor had those things one might expect. A decently sized kitchen. A dining area. Facilities for laundry. A small office. Upstairs were two bedrooms, one for Zara, and one to be shared between Trisla and Rowan. As for Xaz, he¡¯d claimed a corner of the basement, though he¡¯d likely sleep on the roof, or a tree in the yard, when the weather permitted. And the weather would generally permit, Zara knew. According to her reading, Viverides had been chosen as the Palace Planet for the lovely weather much of the year.


    Now and then, for breaks during the cleaning, she¡¯d step outside and peer up at the sky. Somewhere beyond the wispy clouds¡­ Somewhere beyond the little white moon and the big blue moon¡­


    ¡°No, not that way,¡± Xaz said, his sudden presence spooking Zara enough that she jumped.


    ¡°Xaz, you frightened me¡­¡± She wanted to scold him, but couldn¡¯t really bring herself to do so. He didn¡¯t sneak up on purpose, she just wasn¡¯t paying attention.


    The strange creature took Zara by the shoulders from behind, slowly turning her to the left. One of his arms reached past her cheek and pointed into the sky at nothing Zara could see. ¡°Ankali is that way, Lady Inkblossom.¡±


    ¡°W-what? How can you know that, Xaz?¡± Zara could never tell if Xaz knew what he was talking about, or if he just made things up as flights of fancy.


    ¡°I know,¡± he replied solemnly, ¡°Because the stars told me.¡±


    Rule 2: The prosperity of your homeworld is directly tied to your standing. Higher standing will benefit your planet with increased access to the Galactic Empire¡¯s resources, lower taxes, more favorable laws, and increased trade. All that you do is reflected upon millions, billions, or even trillions of lives.


    ¡°I am 3D1. You may call me Edi.¡±


    Rowan poked ruthlessly at the Bronze Adjudicant¡¯s various housings and panels whilst pulling a terribly sour face. ¡°Lady Zarathenia, your babysitter is here.¡±


    Quite suddenly, the robot¡¯s hand swiftly grabbed Rowan¡¯s and began to crush it in its metal grip. Zara heard something pop, and Rowan wailed in agony. A haphazard battle began, with Zara trying to pry Rowan away from the robot, and the robot refusing to let go of the hand, instead crushing it more and more as each second passed. When Edi did finally let go, both Rowan and Zara went tumbling backward, tripping over each other and landing in the tall grass outside of the cottage.


    The robot sharply pronounced, ¡°Do not accost or assault an Adjudicant. Punishment may constitute¡­¡±


    ¡°...Imprisonment or removal of a hand. Yes, yes, we know,¡± Rowan grumbled.


    Zara managed to stand and then helped Rowan up. ¡°Go inside. Ask Trisla for some ice for your hand.¡±


    Once they were alone, Zara turned to consider the robot. Edi¡¯s appearance didn¡¯t differ much from Ixo, save for the color of the robot being bronze instead of silver. How was she supposed to tell the different Adjudicants of the same level apart? ¡°I¡¯d ask you, please, not to damage my servants.¡±


    ¡°You are in no position to make such a request,¡± Edi replied, ¡°And I was the one accosted.¡±


    Zara opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn¡¯t manage any scathing retort. Edi wasn¡¯t wrong about being the one accosted, even if the response could have been less injurious, in her opinion. Better to find out what the robot wanted, in order to get it to leave. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath in an attempt to reign in her desire to argue, Zara forced herself to reply with a polite, ¡°What can Begonia House do for you this evening, Adjudicant Edi?¡±


    ¡°A complaint has been lodged against you by another resident of Ward 43.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Perplexed, Zara could only tilt to the side and stare past Edi to the other cottages further up the lane. ¡°I haven¡¯t met anyone else from Ward 43.¡±


    ¡°A complaint has been lodged,¡± Edi reiterated. Several lights on the robot¡¯s chest switched on and off and then it continued, ¡°Concubine 999¡¯s mode of dress is insufficient as a representative of the Emperor. It is said she dresses as a peasant and smells of cheese.¡±


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Wait, what?¡± Zara didn¡¯t know if she should be offended or amused. While she did still smell faintly of cheese, she hadn¡¯t been close enough to anyone other than the residents of Begonia House to inflict that smell on anyone else. As for her clothes, well¡­ She had been wearing the same homemade dresses as she wore on Ankali. They allowed for a wide range of movement and could be easily washed. Cleaning and repairing Begonia House had been a messy affair, after all. Although the material was cheap, it was thick enough to keep her warm during the cool Viverides mornings but loose and thin enough to not be a bother during the afternoons. Zara slid her hands into the pockets of her dress and peered at Edi. ¡°Does it really matter what I wear? The Emperor isn¡¯t likely to visit Ward 43 soon. Or ever, really.¡±


    And who would complain about Zara? She¡¯d tried not to make any waves, as the rivalries between Imperial Concubines were legendary and could escalate not just to bloodshed, but an outright war between worlds in some cases. Had she already made enemies without even knowing it?


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any other clothing, Adjudicant Edi, beyond what I brought from Ankali.¡±


    ¡°Then I recommend,¡± Edi said, motioning towards the gate far in the distance, the only entrance or exit to Ward 43 without the assistance of a shuttlecraft, ¡°That you go into town and purchase some. Your account has already been credited with your monthly stipend.¡±


    Rule 3: Your rank and standing are determined by Merit. Once you reach the appropriate level of merit, you can be promoted from Hostage Concubine to Honored Concubine. From there, your rank can increase to Honored Consort by merit. Above the rank of Honored Consort is Imperial Consort, which requires an Imperial Decree to obtain. The final rank is Supreme Imperial Consort. There may only be one Supreme Imperial Consort at a time, chosen by His Majesty and confirmed by the Noble Ministers. Note that you may also lose rank via demerit.


    Unlike the relatively dreary Ward 43, the market square of Ebonrue bustled with life. Although each ward¡¯s walls blocked outsiders from viewing the Hostage Concubines, a town had grown up around them. Farmers brought to market food deemed unworthy for the Forbidden City. Fourth-rank Imperial Craftsmen and Artisans plied their trades, in the hope that putting their crafts in the hands of the concubines would bring them recognition and fame, or at the very least, an increase in rank. To service the farmers and craftsmen and artisans, taverns and brothels appeared. In back alleys, more illicit trades might be found. Drugs - for the sad and homesick concubines. Augmentations - for the ambitious concubines. And poisons - for the malicious concubines.


    Zara noticed two things right away. One, she didn¡¯t see any vehicles. No motorcars. No hoverbikes. The town had only a single shuttle landing pad. Upon questioning a local, she learned that electronic conveyances on Viverides were highly restricted. This helped to prevent concubines, or other political guests or hostages, from being kidnapped or running away.


    The second thing Zara noticed was that the Korkudai, the Imperial Guard of Viverides, were everywhere. On corners. At gates. Perched even on rooftops. Zara wondered if their charge was to protect the concubines¡­ Or if they were meant to protect the Emperor from the concubines. Stories did tell of bitter concubines who found ways to incite violence against the Emperor. But, even then, it seemed like more Korkudai had been posted in Ebonrue than could possibly be necessary.


    Trisla nudged Zara to get her attention, and then signed, ¡°What about that fabric store, milady?¡±


    The fabric store in question had numerous colorful samples on display in the window, all of them far fancier than anything Zara had worn during the war. The pair ducked under the awning and between hanging pieces of fabric into the shop. Silks and satins and ribbons and lace lined the interior in tidy piles or as bolts. A young clerk greeted the pair, letting them know to ask if they had questions. The proprietress, however, appeared to be locked in conversation with a rather demanding young woman and her two attendants. The woman, referred to by her attendants as ¡°Lady Astrid¡±, had a slightly upturned nose, immaculately coiffed silver hair with pink highlights, and despite her perfect makeup and ravishing beauty, dark brown eyebrows that immediately betrayed the lie of her hair¡¯s coloring.


    ¡°Lady Astrid ordered it in cerulean blue, but you delivered a navy blue,¡± the attendant said as her mistress stood by silently. ¡°We want it replaced immediately.¡±


    ¡°My apologies, milady,¡± the proprietress replied as she held up a notebook with various fabric samples affixed to it, ¡°But this was the color swatch you chose. I have your signature right here¡­¡±


    Lady Astrid immediately spoke up, shoving her attendant out of the way. ¡°Are you calling me a liar? How rude! Do you even know who I am? I could have your entire shop closed down for violations!¡±


    ¡°What kind of violations?¡± Zara asked, inserting herself in a conversation she knew she shouldn¡¯t. Trisla cringed visibly and took Zara¡¯s wrist, trying to silently urge her not to interfere. ¡°You¡¯re going to close her down for not giving you free fabric?¡±


    Lady Astrid turned slowly, her haughty gaze landing on Zara. She gave Zara such a look of utter disgust that Zara briefly wondered if she¡¯d stepped in something unsavory on the way into the shop.


    ¡°Violations,¡± Lady Astrid pronounced, her voice clipped and certain. ¡°There¡¯s definitely something in here that isn¡¯t as it should be. Maybe she buys off-world lace on the black market. Or maybe she doesn¡¯t use Imperial-approved dyers. Who knows what violations the Korkudai might find?¡±


    The proprietress had turned ashen during the course of the conversation, and Zara wondered if Lady Astrid actually knew some terrible secret about the shop, or if it was a bluff. Either way, the proprietress said, ¡°Th-that won¡¯t be necessary, milady. I¡¯ll have a replacement sent to Marigold House right away.¡±


    ¡°As you should.¡± Satisfied with winning her argument with the proprietress, Lady Astrid then turned her attention to Zara. ¡°Though, if this establishment continues to attract business from cheese-smelling peasants, I doubt I¡¯ll be placing any future orders.¡±


    Zara¡¯s confusion, likely written all over her face, amused Lady Astrid enough that she let out a delighted titter as she and her attendants exited the shop.


    ¡°Well,¡± Trisla signed to Zara, ¡°At least we know who made the report to the Adjudicants.¡±


    Zara supposed Trisla was right. But, why? She hadn¡¯t met Astrid before.


    ¡°You must be new,¡± the proprietress said as she moved forward to greet Zara. ¡°It¡¯s rather dangerous to go against Lady Astrid. Even though she is a low-ranked Hostage Concubine, number 983, she still wields a lot of power in Ebonrue.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°Her twin brother, Lord Astor, is the captain of the Ebonrue Korkudai. Anyone who finds themselves a target of Lady Astrid¡¯s ire might end up being harassed by the Korkudai. Or worse.¡± The proprietress forced a smile and then smoothed down her dress and her hair, ¡°But, I do thank you for stepping in. Lady Astrid can be a bit hard to deal with sometimes. I¡¯m Madame Olendra.¡±


    ¡°A pleasure, Madame Olendra.¡± Both Trisla and Zara bowed in greeting. ¡°I¡¯m Lady Zarathenia and this is Trisla. We were¡­just looking for¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Madame Olendra interrupted while nodding, her voice kindly and understanding, ¡°Let¡¯s find you something more appropriate.¡±


    Rule 4: Concubines must not bring harm to the Imperial Family, but also must not bring harm to one another through direct action or purposeful inaction. Other concubines are the property of the Emperor, and to injure them is to damage the property of the Emperor. A concubine, similarly, must not purposefully harm herself, as they are also the property of the Emperor.  However, augmentations for the purpose of becoming more beautiful or useful to the Emperor are excluded from this rule.


    ¡°These are the addresses for a hairdresser and perfumer I trust,¡± Madame Olendra said, passing a slip of paper to Zara. ¡°I¡¯ll have Kerry bring your purchases to Begonia House later this evening. Speaking of which¡­ Where did she get to?¡±


    Zara assumed Madame Olendra spoke of the clerk who greeted them upon entry. She couldn¡¯t see the girl anywhere. However, their brief confusion came to an immediate end when Kerry burst in through the fabric flaps hanging over the door.


    ¡°Madame!¡± Kerry exclaimed, ¡°He¡¯s here again! The entire retinue is making their way through Ebonrue!¡±


    Madame Olendra lit up, suddenly looking ten years younger. She even patted her hairdo as if to check everything was in place. ¡°Really? Oh! Come, come Lady Zarathenia. You¡¯ll want to see this!¡±


    Outside, a dozen horses strode side by side, each one being ridden by a much fancier armored member of the Korkudai than the ones stationed around Ebonrue. Following them, a man on a horse with an incredibly sleek black coat rode. His thick leather gloves gripped the reins with confidence, but his face betrayed only coldness beneath long, unrestrained black hair whipping about in the breeze. Zara could not remember ever seeing such a beautiful yet sad-looking man, as if sorrow permeated every inch of him. He wore the insignia of the Imperial Household on his cape, and as he passed, the gathering crowd all kneeled and bowed their heads. Madame Olendra motioned for Zara to do the same.


    ¡°Is that the Emperor?¡± Zara whispered.


    ¡°Him? Oh no. The Emperor doesn¡¯t ride about openly on a horse. That¡¯s Prince Senthir, one of the Emperor¡¯s half-brothers. Because they share a mother, they are close, but Prince Senthir is not in line for the throne, so the Emperor trusts him highly.¡±


    ¡°Why is he in Ebonrue?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s quite mysterious,¡± Madame Olendra murmured, ¡°Every month he comes to visit Old Lady Kessandra, Honored Concubine 8. Everyone says she¡¯s a witch, and Prince Senthir has her trying to remove some terrible curse from him. But, nobody really knows for certain. It¡¯s possible he¡¯s under a spell she cast. Or maybe she just provides him with poisons to use against the Emperor¡¯s enemies.¡± While she explained, another dozen horses passed, these carrying various officials. After them, porters carrying various fancy carved wooden boxes walked along behind, trying deftly to avoid stepping in anything the horses might have left on the ground. Zara watched as Madame Olendra surreptitiously waved to one of the handsomer porters, giving him a flirtatious wink as he passed.


    Zara tried not to smile. ¡°A friend of yours, Madame Olendra?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no. No. Just¡­an acquaintance.¡±


    Rule 5: In all the Concubine does, they must be a representative of the Emperor and the Galactic Empire. A concubine¡¯s speech, actions, and mode of dress, all must represent the Empire in the best light. A concubine of low virtue, a breaker of confidences, or one who causes trouble will find themselves punished, replaced, or worse.


    Kerry bowed low to Zara as a porter handed off the purchases to Xaz and Rowan in front of Begonia House as the sun dipped low in the sky. As the pair took the items inside, Kerry said, ¡°Lady Zarathenia, Madame Olendra thanks you for visiting her shop today. She¡¯s included some free thread matching your purchases, in the hopes that you will patronize her shop in the future.¡±


    ¡°Please thank Madame Olendra for me, Kerry. Oh,¡± Zara scooted a bit closer to Kerry and dropped her voice. ¡°What¡¯s the name of Madame Olendra¡¯s acquaintance in the retinue of Prince Senthir?¡±


    Kerry gave Zara a conspiratorial look as she whispered, ¡°That¡¯s Mr. Falsan. He and Madame Olendra grew up together. But, they¡­¡±


    The neighing of a horse cut off their gossip, and the pair looked to the east. A small hill rose towards the end of the lane, and on it stood another cottage, this one in much better repair than Begonia House. The horses and men from the retinue of Prince Senthir milled about in the yard.


    ¡°Kerry, why would an Honored Concubine live here among the Hostage Concubines?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Lady Zarathenia, I don¡¯t know the answer to that question.¡±


    As they watched, Prince Senthir emerged from the old cottage and headed for his horse. But, all of the items carried by the porters were gone. Had he given all of it to Lady Kessandra?


    The retinue mounted their horses and began down the hill. When the group passed Begonia House, Kerry bowed, but Zara remained standing. She wanted to see if the sad but beautiful prince¡¯s face had changed demeanor. Had he received what he wanted from Lady Kessandra? Had she caused him to become happier? More sorrowful? Angry? The entire mystery intrigued Zara.


    To her surprise, Prince Senthir came to a stop right in front of Begonia House¡¯s gates. The look he gave Zara betrayed no emotion as if ice had frozen his features in a permanent state of disdain and disapproval. The prince looked from Zara, to Begonia House, and then back again. ¡°Are you the cheesemonger¡¯s daughter?¡±


    ¡°What? No.¡± Did she really have such a pungent odor? He couldn¡¯t have smelled her from twenty feet away, could he? Zara considered lifting her sleeve to sniff it, but decided against the action. ¡°The cheesemonger doesn¡¯t live here anymore. I am Lady Zarathenia, the nine hundred and¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s too bad. I liked the cheesemonger,¡± the Prince said, interrupting her introduction. ¡°He¡¯d always give me a sample when I came to visit.¡±


    ¡°Well, he¡­ He left some cheese in the basement. Aging. It¡¯s quite good. If you¡¯d like some¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh? Free cheese from a strangely dressed Hostage Concubine who doesn¡¯t even bow? Sounds like a good way to get poisoned.¡± He sounded serious, but Zara sensed some level of mischief beneath his level tone. Prince Senthir¡¯s horse shook its head and whinnied as if comprehending the danger in the word ¡®poison¡¯. Leaning forward, he patted the animal several times to calm it. ¡°Well, it¡¯s a long ride back to the Forbidden City. It¡¯d be annoying if I died of hunger on the way. I¡¯ll have to risk it. Fetch the cheese.¡±


    Zara didn¡¯t really know what to think of his pronouncement, so she hesitated.


    Prince Senthir blinked and then loudly commanded, ¡°Go!¡±


    The sternness shocked Zara out of her hesitation and she rushed inside. Within minutes, she returned carrying an enormous wheel of cheese that took all of her strength to carry. Because she had no idea how much cheese the cheesemonger normally gave the Prince, she didn¡¯t wish to further offend him by offering too little. Unfortunately, cheese wheels were heavier than they looked and so Zara struggled to the gate. One look at the tiny woman carrying the massive wheel caused the grim prince to start chuckling. After nearly dropping the cheese several times, Zara handed her burden off to one of the porters. By that time, the Prince¡¯s laughter had become loud enough for others in the retinue to pick it up and laugh along with him.


    Catching his breath, he asked, ¡°You said your name was¡­¡±


    ¡°Lady Zarathenia, your Highness.¡± She finally bowed, but mostly in the hopes that her red-faced embarrassment might be hidden by her stringy hair.


    ¡°Huh.¡± She could hear his horse begin to move. But before he rode out of earshot, she heard. ¡°Well, at least you¡¯re interesting.¡±

 Chapter 3: The Tale of Lady Kessandra

    The Tale of Lady Kessandra


    The blustery weather of the early Viverides springtime kept the residents of Begonia House indoors.  Continual thunderstorms buffeted the quaint lanes of Ward 43, tearing off the occasional tree limb or sending the pieces of a patio set tumbling.  Stuck inside due to the weather, the group quickly ran out of things to do.  Even with the ability to download things onto their intellipads, the Adjudicants censored so much available media that attempting core-net entertainment became impossible.  Ennui soon overwhelmed the group.


    Trisla quelled her boredom by cooking incessantly.  Baking sweets was her favorite pastime, and soon Begonia House smelled of chocolate, banana, vanilla, cinnamon AND cheese.  Xaz bided his time by sharpening his claws and pestering Rowan and Zara to read or tell him stories.  Rowan tinkered with getting an ancient robotic floor cleaner working so that no more mopping would have to be done.  And Zara spent most of her time trying to sew outfits from the fabric they¡¯d purchased from Madame Olendra by using the ¡°Clothing Patterns for Imperial Concubines¡± book she¡¯d downloaded.  Unfortunately, the descriptions and instructions were largely in Olde Galactic, making them difficult to translate.


    Zara¡¯s annoyance with the situation was on a slow burn.  After all, they¡¯d all spent years in the bunker.  They knew how to deal with boredom.  But, at least back home, there¡¯d been more people to talk to, constant work to be done for the war effort, and nothing to prohibit them from using their intellipads as they wished.  Meaning could be derived from patching the torn clothes of soldiers or knitting thick socks and mittens to keep the family and servants warm.  Zara didn¡¯t particularly see the point in putting together a series of elaborate dresses intended to impress a man she¡¯d likely never meet.


    Reading the ¡°Handbook of Concubine Propriety¡± sent to her by Edi, Zara learned that the ¡°polite¡± way to introduce yourself to other Concubines was to send a servant with a small calling card.  The other Concubine could then respond with an invitation to tea or some other minor affair to get to know you.  Zara sent Trisla around with her calling cards, but received no invites in return.  She could only assume that Lady Astrid had made it known anyone associating with Zara would be a social pariah.


    Zara supposed that the ostracization was a blessing in disguise.  If she didn¡¯t interact with other Concubines, she would be unlikely to get involved in drama and dangerous political schemes.  Still, it did hurt to be shunned.


    Trying to distract herself from thoughts about her social embarrassment, Zara lowered her sewing to look around the room.  Having eaten too many cookies, Xaz had become a lump on the floor.  His tail swatted lazily at a fly.  Trisla, covered in flour, had fallen asleep on the sofa while waiting for her latest concoction to bake.  And Rowan?  Zara had no idea what had become of Rowan.


    That¡¯s when there was a knock at the door.  It surprised all of them.  Xaz sat up quickly and then rolled into a crouch, growling slightly and looking around as if he thought there might be an intruder.  Trisla woke too and, after realizing it would be left to her to answer the door, a task normally left to Rowan, dusted flour off of herself and set to the task


    The interaction ended quickly, and soon Trisla rejoined them in the sitting room, carrying on a small pewter tray a single tented calling card.  Zara¡¯s eyes grew wide and she snatched the card off the plate.


    ¡°The Lady Kessandra invites the Lady Zara to a late morning tea on the morrow at Wisteria House.¡±  Zara read it several more times just to be sure.


    ¡°The witch¡¯s house?¡± Trisla signed after putting down the tray.  She looked incredibly hesitant about the entire concept.  ¡°What if she turns you into salt?¡±


    ¡°I thought witches turned people into frogs,¡± Rowan interjected, appearing from downstairs with a piece of cheese.  ¡°Or other reptiles.¡±


    ¡°Xaz could be a snake, yes yes,¡± Xaz added without getting up off of the floor.  ¡°Xaz could slither.  Ssssslither.  Slitherrrrr.¡±


    Trisla shook her head as her hands moved frantically, expressing her dismay in Galactic Sign Language,  ¡°You mustn¡¯t go, I think, milady.  There are so many rumors about her in town.  I met a florist who said that all of his flowers die every time she walks past.  And I heard one concubine¡¯s maid say that Lady Kessandra got kicked out of the Forbidden City because she cursed the Emperor¡¯s favorite songbird to sound like a frog.¡±


    ¡°See?¡± Rowan said, motioning to Trisla, ¡°Frogs.¡±


    Zara shook her head.  ¡°Well, I can¡¯t continue to just¡­  Not know anyone on Viverides.  Anyway, she¡¯s two ranks higher than I am.  I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯d be incredibly rude to turn her down without an immensely good reason.  And the fear of witchery probably doesn¡¯t count.¡±


    Once it was decided, there was much to prepare.  Zara needed to put the finishing touches on the first dress.  Xaz had to be persuaded into a bath, rather than his usual cleaning method of, ¡®letting the rain lick the dust off¡¯.  And Rowan and Trisla needed to decide which of them would come along to attend Zara.  Trisla won due to Rowan¡¯s last few tea-pouring attempts ending in spillage.


    The next morning was a whirl of activity.  Trisla had to re-do Zara¡¯s hair three times, having never really had to give her a fancy coiffure before.  Emergency patchwork had to be done on Xaz¡¯s House Kalimat guard uniform when one of his many spiky protrusions ripped a section.  And one of Trisla¡¯s shoes went missing.  By the time the group was heading up the hill to Wisteria House, Zara felt brittle both inside and out.  Despite having chosen the most comfortable looking of all the dresses, the fabric felt heavy, and the little satin-lined shoes slipped around on her feet as she walked.  She couldn¡¯t imagine making a good impression on Lady Kessandra, and wondered if she might be walking into some sort of trap.


    Wisteria House, Zara realized as they walked up the path to the front door, was twice the size of Begonia House.  A robotic groundskeeper tended a garden of fresh vegetables off to one side, and the front flower boxes sported varieties of exotic blossoms Zara couldn¡¯t name.  Ivy scaled two sides of the house, clustering so densely on one side that it appeared to be crowding around a window to peek into the home.  The whitewashed walls contrasted elegantly with decorative ash shutters and pine green roof.  A strange wicker decoration of woven loops and knots hung on the door like a wreath made for far more esoteric or occult purposes.  Zara lifted a hand to touch and inspect it, wondering how it had been made and what its symbolic purpose might be, but Trisla caught her wrist.  Trisla shook her head, not wanting Zara to touch the item, and end up accidentally cursed by some unknown magic.


    Their knock was swiftly answered by a portly housekeeper who ushered them inside, but only after staring at the group for longer than really polite.  ¡°Lady Kessandra will receive you in the solarium.¡±


    Inside, Wisteria House was filled with incredible furniture, art, and decor, none of it particularly spooky or ¡®witchy¡¯.  Zara immediately noticed several fine Cassadine embroidered tapestries on the walls.  Her parents had shown her one in a museum back in Ankali before the war, and she¡¯d been fascinated with how the glowing miltworm threads rippled in unison to make the whole scene appear almost alive.  She¡¯d immediately wanted to learn to embroider with miltworm thread, but the price was prohibitive, even for the rulers of Ankali.  Zara saw fine porcelain tea sets from Ithonica Nine and hand-carved cabinets made from the indigo-colored wood of the Beshila forests.  A section of navy brocade curtain with gold trim was pulled aside to allow the trio into the solarium.  The amount of money spent on the decor of Wisteria House could have bought a half-dozen battle-ready ships back home, Zara was absolutely certain.


    ¡°The Lady Zarathenia of Ankali and her attendants,¡± the housekeeper announced before retreating.


    Lady Kessandra sat in a high-backed blue velour chair, her voluminous gray hair pulled up into a configuration much broader than her wrinkle-lined face.  She had a number of glittering gold and teal hair ornaments tucked in amongst the gray that brought out the blue of her keen eyes. Even sitting, Zara could tell she¡¯d been hunched slightly by age, and the way her skin hung so loosely made Zara wonder if she¡¯d been battling an illness. The table in front of her contained not only tea, but also a fat white cat, and a crystal ball.  The weight of all of these things kept the white lace of the tablecloth from blowing away in the breeze issuing from a slightly ajar window nearby.


    ¡°Come in.  I hope you don¡¯t mind the breeze.  With it not raining this morning for once, I thought I¡¯d get some¡­air¡­¡±  Lady Kessandra had used a cane topped with a gold orb to get to her feet to greet her guest but came to a complete stop upon seeing Zara.  Most people balked at seeing Xaz for the first time, but not Lady Kessandra.  Instead, she focused immediately on Zara, the thin time-worn skin around her mouth twitching as she took a step forward.  Zara didn¡¯t know what to think when the old woman broke out into a laugh that was obviously directed at her guests but also didn¡¯t seem derisive or cruel.  ¡°You must be from quite far away, my dear.  I have met a good number of Hostage Concubines in my life, but you¡¯ll be the first to show up to tea in a nightgown.¡±


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°What?¡±  Immediately Zara looked down at her dress.  She¡¯d chosen a pattern that was loose and modest, something with wide sleeves that wouldn¡¯t pinch at her wrists, but still had enough ornamentation to be considered fancy.  Only once Lady Kessandra pointed it out did she see it.  It WAS a nightgown.  ¡°Oh my gods.  I¡­  I didn¡¯t know.  They sent me a pattern book and I¡­¡±  Zara covered her face with both hands in an attempt to block the world from seeing her intense embarrassment.  ¡°How mortifying.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense, I think it¡¯s a little brilliant.  Who wants to sit around eating cakes in a too-tight dress?¡±  Lady Kessandra tugged Zara¡¯s wrists to remove her hands from her face and gave her a reassuring smile.  ¡°Come now.  Let¡¯s sit.  You must tell me all about this tall drink of water here.¡±  She canted her head towards Xaz and then led Zara to one of the chairs.  ¡°Did he always have horns, or did you add them?¡±


    ¡ª


    Despite her initial embarrassment, Zara rapidly found herself completely enraptured by Lady Kessandra¡¯s company.  The old woman had a lively personality and the kind of genuine kindness that Zara hadn¡¯t even hoped to find on Viverides.  After the tea was poured, Lady Kessandra sent Xaz and Trisla off to the kitchens where, she said, they¡¯d find half a lemon cake made by Lady Kessandra¡¯s housekeeper, Madame Marie.  This left the pair together, now able to take their time getting to know one another as Lady Kessandra worked at laying out some tarot cards to do a reading for Zara.


    ¡°I see.  So your home planet was at war until recently?¡± Lady Kessandra asked as she shuffled the cards.


    ¡°Yes, ah¡­  For a decade.  So, there¡¯s not been much talk about it here on Viverides?¡±


    The older woman shook her head.  ¡°No.  The Galactic Empire fights a good two dozen wars across the galaxy at any given time.  We don¡¯t usually hear much about them unless the Spiral Alliance is involved.¡±


    It felt weird to know that the ten years of devastating war on her home planet didn¡¯t even really register as news in the central systems.  The conflict had been all-consuming on Ankali, and would change the future of their people for hundreds or thousands of years to come, but meant almost nothing to the Galatic Empire.  They fought so many wars at once¡­  So many, that their resources must be split thin across all the battles.  And yet, even with that, it had given Ankali no advantage whatsoever.  If the Galactic Empire had focused its entire arsenal on Ankali for even a month, they¡¯d have completely obliterated the population of the planet.


    Zara didn¡¯t know much about the Spiral Alliance other than that they were a large number of systems in one of the spiral arms of the galaxy that had thwarted the expansion of the Galactic Empire into their territory.  Unfortunately, her home planet of Ankali had been unable to secure their assistance in their fight against the Galactic Empire, likely because Ankali was nowhere near the spiral arm in question.


    ¡°Oh.  I will have to do some reading to learn more about the Spiral Alliance, I suppose.¡±  Zara leaned forward to watch what Lady Kessandra was doing with the cards.  ¡°Wisteria House is lovely, Lady Kessandra.  Have you lived here long?¡±


    ¡°Oh no, no.  Only a decade or so.  Ward 43 had only recently been walled in when I came to Ebonrue from the Forbidden City.¡±


    ¡°What was it like¡­  The Forbidden City?  Is it truly as incredible as the stories say?¡±  Stories were about all one could really learn of the Forbidden City.  It was unlawful to film inside the gates or even take pictures.  An externally opaque repulsion dome was projected over the entire place, making it impossible for drones to enter and spy on the residents, or for there to be any pictures of it from space.  Only drawings and paintings existed, and those couldn¡¯t be relied upon for accuracy, since the Adjudicants would certainly destroy any that didn¡¯t show the Forbidden City in the best light.


    ¡°It is the most extraordinarily beautiful place you¡¯ve ever seen, and simultaneously the ugliest place in the galaxy to live,¡± Lady Kessandra murmured, her voice wistful.


    ¡°You miss it?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡­  I don¡¯t.  I just miss him.¡± Leaving the tarot cards on the table for the moment, Lady Kessandra stood and moved to a side of the room where something on the wall was covered by fine purple satin.  With the pull of a cord, the fabric slid aside to reveal a painting in the old Ieboke style.  It showed the Endless Emperor, looking much younger than his current portraits, in the finery of a royal marriage.  Beside him stood a beauty in bridal robes, face and lips painted porcelain white.   Her eyes were hidden by her red veil, and a purple thumbprint had been placed upon her bottom lip to signify the completion of the marriage ritual.  Her hands, positioned just-so that only her fingertips could be seen beneath the voluminous sleeves of the bridal robes, gingerly held the end of the arakon, the rope binding signifying imperial maidens from before the time of galactic conquest.  ¡°Back then, it was tradition.  The Emperor must have eight wives before his coronation.  I was the eighth.  It was the happiest day of my life.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s lovely,¡± Zara said, standing to go take a closer look.  ¡°I¡¯ve only seen these kinds of things in picture books or the core-net.  It must have been thousands of years ago.  Is this your official imperial wedding portrait?¡±


    ¡°Mmhm,¡± Lady Kessandra said.  ¡°I¡¯ll tell you the story while I read your cards, if you like?¡±


    ¡ª


    ¡°In the olden days, thousands of years ago, the wives of the Emperor were chosen from among the families of the Noble Ministers.  It was seen as a great honor, and also as a way to accrue additional power within the palace.  To increase the chance their daughter would be chosen, some of the Noble Ministers would send their daughters to the Maidane, Imperial temple schools that specialized in turning out young women honed to the preferences of the husband-to-be.  If a husband should want a shy woman, he would get one.  If he¡¯d like her to be smart, or witty, or particularly ravishing, the Maidane would provide top-notch candidates.


    I was at the Maidane from the time I was five years old.  Our family had fallen from high favor due to my father failing or disappointing the Emperor more than once.  The possibility of being removed from the ranks of the Noble Ministers loomed, and due to my father¡¯s inability to be thrifty, it would have meant financial disaster for our family.


    I had three sisters, all also within the Maidane, and all far more accomplished than I could ever hope to be.  So, I must admit, I didn¡¯t take anything very seriously.  I got in trouble often.  Among the girls of the Maidane, I was considered plain, and my father believed it a waste of money for any enhancements or augmentations to attempt to change my looks, especially when they could be better spent on my sisters.  Personally, I was fine with it.  I had decided long before that I¡¯d learn the art of fortune telling and travel the stars, meeting interesting people and learning of their incredible lives.  Getting stuck in the Forbidden City wasn¡¯t for me.


    Two months before the Choosing, the Emperor sent the remaining dozen finalists a gift.  We each received a rare bird from the tropical planet of Akidar.  I¡¯d never seen such delightful creatures.  They came in such an extraordinary range of colors and shapes, each one more magnificent than the last.  However, because I¡¯d snuck out of the Maidane when the birds arrived, I received the very last choice, a rather dull-looking brown bird with black spots.


    The Emperor¡¯s instructions for the birds were simple.  Each young woman was to train her bird however she might like.  And during the Choosing, she¡¯d show the Emperor what she¡¯d managed to teach it.  Everyone took to training their birds immediately.  Some girls trained them to sing songs they¡¯d heard the Emperor liked, other girls taught their birds to speak, or bow, or hunt, or even do aerial tricks.  But I, thinking myself clever, decided not to train my bird at all.  If I¡¯d failed in training my bird, well¡­  The Emperor would surely not want me, and I¡¯d be free to pursue my own desires.


    Eventually, the day of the Choosing came.  We dressed in our finest and were paraded to the Royal Pavilion.  For the first time, I saw the Emperor.  He was so young then, you understand, only nineteen but he had seven wives already.  His features were chiseled in the right places, soft in the right places.  Back then, he had brown eyes, not like his augmented eyes now, all blue and crisp.  And he had dark hair, nearly the color of midnight.  I remember him being so thin, just rail thin and gangly, all long limbs and no muscle.  His gaze felt serious and lonely, and perhaps a bit bored with having gone through seven Choosings already.  I thought, ¡®He doesn¡¯t look cruel.  One of my sisters will have a wonderful life with him.¡¯


    Along with him were his mother, the Empress Dowager, and his sisters, the twin Princesses Narisa and Clarisa.  Mostly, the Empress Dowager ran the Choosing.  She inspected us, quizzed us, and looked over our documents.  Girls were made to recite or play instruments, or dance.  But, the Emperor spent all of it looking at his intellipad.  Why would he care at all about marrying for the eighth time just to secure the loyalty of his ministers?  One girl was as good as the next, most likely, as long as it was politically advantageous.


    But, he did look up when it came time to show what the young women had done with their birds.  Each one showed off what they¡¯d taught their bird.  My sister, Issavendra, was the most impressive.  She¡¯d taught her bird to pull the ornamental pins from her hair and then lay them out on a table to form the shape of the Emperor¡¯s initials.  I thought for certain she¡¯d be the one chosen, as it was the most difficult trick, and the most clever.


    And then they came to me.  I stepped forward with my cage, and my bird, who I had named Sir Peep, for he only made the faintest peep noises.


    ¡°What have you trained your bird to do?¡± the Emperor asked me.


    I bowed in the formal way of that era, and then held up the cage.  ¡°You said to train our birds in whatever manner we desire, your Majesty.  I did not desire to train my bird, so he will do no tricks for you today.¡±


    Everyone was shocked by my insolence.  I had known I¡¯d get in trouble, but I didn¡¯t realize how much trouble.  The headmistress of the Maidane slapped me and said, ¡°How dare you mock the Emperor!¡±  She bowed repeatedly to him and said, ¡°Your Majesty, I must apologize.  This girl is willful and headstrong.  If it pleases you, we shall send her away immediately to be punished.¡±


    I thought that was a bit much.  It¡¯s not like I¡¯d struck the Emperor.  So, of course, I spoke up.  ¡°I apologize, your Majesty.  I did not mean to cause offense to you in any way.  It¡¯s simply¡­¡±  I motioned towards Sir Peep.  ¡°...my desire for Sir Peep is not for him to do tricks.  Your Majesty¡¯s gift to me is most lovely, but I can¡¯t really be settled with the idea of turning him into something he is not.  Surely he yearns for his home on Akidar where he could fly free?  There, he needs no tricks to be what he is ¨C a bird.  Is he not already the perfected form of what he was meant to be?¡±


    I thought for certain I would be whipped.  The headmistress even brought her whip up to lash me, as she carried it always at her side.  But, the Emperor suddenly raised his hand to stop her.


    ¡°No.  No.¡±  He motioned to me, ¡°What is your name?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Lady Kessandra, if it pleases Your Majesty.¡± I curtsied in a wobbly manner.  Grace was never my forte.


    The Emperor nodded once and said, ¡°Send everyone away except Lady Kessandra.  I have chosen.¡±

 Chapter 4: The Tale of Lady Kessandra Part 2

    The Tale of Lady Kessandra - Part 2


    ¡°I can¡¯t say I was immediately taken with the Emperor.  After all, I¡¯d wanted to be free to travel the galaxy, but he¡¯d found a cage for me just as surely as he¡¯d done for Sir Peep.  Let me tell you, Lady Zarathenia, I cried so hard and for so long the first night that I exhausted myself and slept clear until noon the next day.  My lady¡¯s maids were so cross with how puffy and red I¡¯d become that they compared me to a rosy poofla fish.


    Thankfully for me, I was not yet at the age of majority.  Several months remained until my birthday, and thus, there was some time before I could be legally wed to His Majesty.  That also meant that His Majesty would have to wait for his official coronation.  Even though everyone called him the Emperor, in truth he was still Crown Prince Khatar.  I figured I had a chance¡­  I could be so annoying in the interim that he¡¯d change his mind about marrying me.  And yet, I couldn¡¯t be so obnoxious and naughty that I ended up getting killed or getting my family in trouble.  So, I had to walk a fine line.


    Three days after the Choosing, I received a message that His Majesty wished for me to accompany him on a tour of his domain.  Of course, I would have an Imperial Chaperone, for it would be improper for a maiden not yet of majority to be alone with a man, even if that man was to become her husband.  The chaperone assigned to me was a eunuch by the name of Lazlo.  You may not know this, my dear, but back in those days, the harem was not run by Adjudicants, but by eunuchs.  I think it has been an improvement in some ways, but¡­  I do miss Lazlo, even if he used to strike my backside with a bug swatter when I was naughty.  Those dresses had so much padding, you couldn¡¯t even feel it.  Anyway, I digress¡­


    I did not meet Prince Khatar again until I was ushered onto the royal cruiser.  They took me to an enormous sitting parlor completely done over with Pithrina crystal.  Not just a crystal chandelier, but also elaborate crystal designs lining the chairs and tables, crystal mosaics on the walls, and crushed crystal inset into the floor.  The whole place sparkled and danced with prismatic light.  A huge viewscreen on one wall displayed the starry night outside of the ship as we journeyed.


    Prince Khatar didn¡¯t come immediately.  I spent hours half-asleep as Lazlo scrolled the core-net on this intellipad, occasionally showing me pictures of cute animals.  When the doors finally opened, and the Prince entered, I found myself suddenly flooded with nerves.  It was one thing to be bold at the Choosing, but now¡­  Now we were alone.  I may have glanced up at him even before he bade Lazlo and I rise from our bowing.  He looked so different up close like someone might have shoved one of my lazy brothers into some fancy clothing.


    ¡°My mother was pissed when I chose you, you know?  She had her eye on someone with far more political advantage.¡±  He grabbed a piece of bonsuru fruit from a basket an attendant was just then placing on the table and plopped down on a sofa, motioning me over to sit next to him.  I did so, but hesitantly, keeping an appropriate amount of space between us.


    ¡°Your mother is wise, Your Majesty.  My family will be of little advantage to your reign.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±  He leaned towards me slightly.  ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to talk up your family and tell me how wonderful they are?  You¡¯re very bad at the game of royal intrigues.¡±


    ¡°Are you encouraging me to lie to you, Your Majesty?¡± I asked, all the while eying the bonsuru in his hand.  At that moment, it occurred to me that I hadn¡¯t eaten since before sunrise, which at this point must have been many hours prior.  ¡°I do believe you¡¯re encouraging treason.¡±


    I suppose he noticed my lustful gaze upon the fruit, because he held it just a bit closer, letting me see the soft red skin covered in downy fuzz.  ¡°Maybe I¡¯m testing you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be sorely disappointed.  I¡¯m not bright, and do poorly at tests.¡±


    ¡°I find that difficult to believe.  Anyway, I had my sister Narisa look over all of your work from the Maidane.  She said that you¡¯re terribly bright but completely unmotivated.  Narisa told me tales of exams half-completed, needlework left undone, and poems that were a clever mockery of the headmistress disguised as boring and trite lyrics about flowers.  She also told me your room was littered with books and that you snuck out of the Maidane regularly to access forbidden core-net texts.¡±


    ¡°Princess Narisa sounds a smidgen nosey, if I may say so, Your Majesty,¡± I said, trying not to sound too critical of the princess.


    ¡°Well, I asked her to do it, so if you must blame someone, blame me.¡±  He held up the fruit.  ¡°You keep staring at my bonsuru.  Do you covet what is mine?¡±


    As you can imagine, I blushed as deeply as the color of the fruit itself, having not realized how obvious I was being with my hungry staring.  ¡°My apologies.  I haven¡¯t eaten since¡­¡±


    ¡°You can have a bite, if you wish.¡±


    The bonsuru moved closer to my mouth, and I almost lifted my hands to take it.  A faint clearing of the throat from Lazlo reminded me that I should be careful to not touch the Crown Prince, nor should I take things from him without them being offered.  As he only offered me a bite, I was only entitled to the bite.  That left me with the realization that my single option was to take a bite whilst he held it.  I do not know if you¡¯ve ever had bonsuru fruit, but if you have, then you know eating one can be a rather messy affair.  I hesitated, but not for long.  I didn¡¯t want to keep him waiting.  The moment my teeth pierced the soft flesh, the sweet juices began coating my lips and running down my chin.  I¡¯d had many a bonsuru in my life, but none so ripe and delicious as one grown and prepared for the royal family.  It¡¯s like a burst of perfection sliding against your tongue.  You barely have to chew it, it just melts in your mouth, almost fizzy.  Without thinking, I took another bite, and another, all while he watched and held the fruit still.


    ¡°You¡¯re a ravenous one, Lady Kessandra,¡± the Crown Prince said, removing his bonsuru while I tried desperately to hide my juice-covered face behind a sleeve.  ¡°I told you to take a bite, but you ate half the bonsuru.  You will be my greediest wife yet.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­  I¡¯m so sorry, your Majesty.¡±  Thankfully, Lazlo came to my rescue, bringing a handkerchief I could use to wipe my face.  He gave me a disapproving look in the process, however.  ¡°Though, if you find my behavior too disagreeable, your Majesty always has the option of choosing another girl.¡±


    ¡°I am beset on all sides by agreeable women.  I¡¯d rather be surrounded by wolves.  At least I always know what wolves want.  Women, on the other hand, are as mysterious as the black moons of Kintra Six.¡±


    ¡°Women¡¯s motivations are not so unknowable,¡± I replied.


    ¡°No?¡±  I watched as the Crown Prince chomped into the bonsuru exactly where I had already bit into it.  Something about watching him savagely rip a piece of the fruit¡¯s skin away with his teeth shot a shiver up my spine.  ¡°Not all women, I suppose.  You, for instance, appear to be motivated by the desire to not marry the most powerful man in the central systems.  Tell me, Lady Kessandra, am I lacking in some respect?  Do you find me ugly?  Or perhaps witless?  Am I cruel?  A bore?  Spineless?  A liar?  What have you deemed to be my greatest fault?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t¡­¡±  I realized then that I¡¯d not really given him a chance.  As much as I didn¡¯t want to be trapped in the Forbidden City, at the same time, I¡¯d not at all considered the Crown Prince¡¯s feelings in all of this.  I took a slow, calming breath, and exhaled it over the course of many seconds.  ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re a lovely person.  I find no fault with you.  After all, I barely know you, sire.  I¡¯m sure you have many great qualities, and some irritating ones as well.  That¡¯s human.  Even an Emperor can not escape being human.  I just¡­  I¡¯ve always envisioned my life to be a very free one.  I wish to live as the nomadic sages of the Lassiter Belt.  I want to see the galaxy, learn a hundred languages, read the books of a thousand libraries, and meet ten thousand people.  The universe feels too vast to be boxed up in one small city for the entirety of one¡¯s life.  Doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    How I managed to say all of that while watching the shine of bonsuru juice glisten on his chin, I do not know.  Something about the sticky wetness of it forced my gaze elsewhere, and without looking, I offered the handkerchief to him.  When I felt the fabric tugged from my fingertips, I glanced up and found the Crown Prince looking much more serious than before.


    ¡°That¡¯s an understandable desire, Lady Kessandra.¡±  A tone of sadness entered his voice.  ¡°Before my father and elder brother were murdered, I hoped for a similar life to the one you envision.  To galavant across the central systems, my life a constant party of excess and pleasure¡­  To dodge all responsibility that fate had foisted upon my brother, and finally be free of the palace and the multitudes of scheming women, clever eunuchs, and ambitious ministers¡­  Someone took that from me.  I do not know who, but I know they are likely still in the palace.  How could I ever feel safe there, knowing the fates that befell my father and brother?  No.  I understand your desire perfectly, Lady Kessandra.  Anyone who would want to live in the Forbidden City is not someone who can be trusted.¡±  He leaned forward, his head hung in a way that I couldn¡¯t see his face.  I didn¡¯t need to, though.


    I understood then how hard it must have been for him.  The Forbidden City is the apex of opulence and glamor, but few souls within it can be trusted.  To imagine yourself able to be free of it, only to have been called back after the deaths of the former Emperor and Crown Prince, well¡­


    ¡°When you spoke of your bird, Sir Peep, wanting to be free,¡± he said, ¡°I thought¡­  Here is someone who understands me.  Here is someone that maybe, in time, I could trust.¡°


    A strange part of me wanted to assert that he could trust me.  I felt betrayed by my own conflicting desires.  On one hand, I had no wish to be married to this man.  But, on the other hand, the depth of his sorrow and his incredibly reasonable yearning to have someone who wasn¡¯t a palace insider nearby made me wonder if I could be that for him.  You have to understand, Lady Zara, how naive I was then, and how easily swayed are the emotions of the youthful and righteous.


    I could not think of anything to say.  But, I knew he needed someone then.  For a moment, he was not the Crown Prince, but just a teenager who had lost his father and brother to violence and intrigue, and that same violence and intrigue would now constantly threaten him.  So, I cast aside propriety and, ignoring the glare of Lazlo, I reached over and took one of the Crown Prince¡¯s hands in mine.


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    I don¡¯t remember what he said when I did.  But I do still remember how his hand was sticky.


    ~*~*~


    We went first to Akidar, the home of Sir Peep.  There, the Crown Prince granted my wish, to set the bird free.  We stayed in a quaint inn at the top of the forest canopy.  When I looked out from the balcony, I could see an ocean of treetops and a thousand colorful birds diving in and out of the leaves.  The Akidarian people gave us each a kli-kli suit, with the anti-gravity technology they use to safely climb the massive trees and to glide as they jump from limb to limb.  We spent an entire day being creatures of the forest, lounging in branches without a worry about falling.


    After that, we visited the Foam Sea of Toriska.  The foam is incredible - the little bubbles burst against your skin, making you feel as if you¡¯ve been dipped in champagne.  There are these tiny fish, called zasha, that live all the way at the bottom of the sea, where the foam finally becomes liquid again, and if you eat them, you can see new colors in the visible spectrum for a time.  We met with the tribal leaders of Toriska, who impressed upon the Crown Prince that tourism had started to cause pollution to the Foam Sea.  He promised to help them protect their land from outsiders by giving them the ability to limit the number of visitors at any given time.


    I remember being amazed as we sat in a gondola high above the frozen lava flows of Kapidari, astonished at how rock could be gooey and plasmic and yet so terribly cold.  We watched a double sunset from the fourth moon of Nohr, and celebrated a system-wide festival as springtime returned to the planet Neeris after three hundred and forty years.  On Antoris Akje, when the savage AIs that roam the plains demanded me as a payment for our trespass, the Crown Prince fought and won a glorious duel to secure my liberty.  We found the mysterious Lost Moon of Jas, which meanders through the galaxy, somehow free from gravitational entanglements, and let drops of our blood fall upon the ground so that some piece of us would always be wandering the universe together.


    In just six months, we saw so many wonderful and unusual things, experienced so much, and had so many adventures.  Would you blame me, Lady Zara, innocent and naive as I was, for falling so completely in love that I gave up my life-long plans and instead came to want only His Majesty?  It was foolish love, young love, a kind of love so wholesome and pure that you convince yourself that only the two of you have ever felt it.


    I came to understand that he had no particular desire for his other seven wives.  All of the marriages were political and arranged by his mother.  His Majesty¡¯s relationship with the Empress Dowager wasn¡¯t strong.  She had always favored his elder brother, the previous Crown Prince, though His Majesty didn¡¯t fault her for it.  His older brother had needed more training, more support, and generally more attention, as he was the one destined for the throne.  It did mean, however, that His Majesty felt fairly certain that the Empress Dowager was not involved in the deaths of his father or brother.  For this reason, he largely trusted her, even if their relationship tended to be a bit icy.  I say all of this for you to understand, he hadn¡¯t chosen those other women.  They were an obligation.  He found their giggling and posturing insipid.  But, I was not an obligation.  I was his choice.


    The week before our trip was to end, His Majesty and I snuck out one night without Lazlo, and without the royal guards, so we might be alone.  We had landed on planet Vunora to witness the blooming of the sacred Solar Flowers, a once-in-a-lifetime event that only occurs when the planet is at the apex of its irregular orbit, closer to the sun than it has been in ninety years.  When they bloom, the Solar Flowers appear to have tiny fires within them.  It¡¯s an optical illusion, but it¡¯s glorious to see hundreds of thousands of minuscule lights swaying in the breeze.


    At night they continued to glow, chemicals within them activated by the sun.  His Majesty and I made ourselves a picnic and spent hours together, laying on a blanket, looking up at the sky or watching the flowers dance, snacking and laughing, and talking about our dreams for the future.  He was so normal back then, a bit spoiled by his position, rather awkward with girls, but righteous and kind and desperate to impress.  If I could pick one moment of my life to relive forever, it would be that night.


    Eventually, he rolled onto his stomach and held out a box to me.  I was sitting, for at the moment I was eating a donut.  I had to put the donut aside and wipe my fingers on the grass in order to not get sugar on the fine box.  Inside was an elegant gold hairpin with more than a dozen jeweled orbs, each no bigger than my fingertip, dangling from it.  When I looked closer, I realized that each orb represented a planet or moon we¡¯d visited.  He¡¯d had it crafted by the finest Imperial jeweler, each tiny planet a sparkling jewel or shaped from a precious stone.


    ¡°It¡¯s gorgeous,¡± I said quietly.


    He motioned to me as he sat up, ¡°Turn around.  I¡¯ll put it in.¡±


    I don¡¯t think he¡¯d ever put a hairpin in a girl¡¯s hair in his life.  He stabbed my scalp three times before he managed it.  But my head was buzzing with emotion, and quite quickly I no longer felt the pain.


    ¡°Lady Kessandra,¡± he said, ¡°It would be cruel of me to force you to become my wife.  I know your true happiness is here, among the stars, seeking out all the wonders of our galaxy.  But, I¡­  I¡¯m a selfish creature.  So, while I¡¯ll open the door to your cage and encourage you to be free, know that I am secretly harboring the desire that I might be more interesting than freedom.  A silly notion, I know.¡±


    ¡°It is a silly notion,¡± I said, feigning harshness.  ¡°And people will call you a silly Emperor for having chosen such an unworthy wife.¡±


    ¡°They may do so.  But, I will have their tongues removed.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to amass quite a pile of tongues, your Majesty.  You must consider how unsanitary that is.  Tongues laying all about the palace, wagging in the wind.  It¡¯s just unseemly.¡±


    The morbid image made him laugh a little, though I detected a hint of sadness.  I am certain he believed that I¡¯d maneuvered the conversation away from marriage because he thought I¡¯d say no.  Cruelly, I let him believe it for three more seconds before I gave him the truth.


    ¡°I will marry you on one condition.  I must be given leave to travel for two months per year.  You may send as many guards and chaperones and handlers as you like.  And should you be free, you are invited to join me.¡±


    Relief flooded his face.  But, he quickly hid it by pretending to be insulted.  ¡°Such demands you make of the Crown Prince, Lady Kessandra!  Other ladies will think you impertinent.¡±


    ¡°I do not make demands of the Crown Prince,¡± I said, reaching out to put my hand against his chest.  I could feel his heart beating rapidly.  He was nervous.  I wondered how often he¡¯d imagined this night and it going some other way for him.  ¡°I make a request of my future husband.¡±


    I watched him smile then, his face lit by the glow of a thousand Solar Flowers, excited all through the night that they had experienced the warmth of their often-distant sun.¡±


    ~*~*~


    ¡°We were married the week after my birthday.  He kept his promise to me and had a special decree written into our marriage contract that I might travel away from the Forbidden City for two months out of every year to any place I should so desire.  After our marriage, I was moved into Emberlight Palace, one of the most beautiful palaces within the Forbidden City, and quite close to the Imperial Palace.¡±


    Zara had become completely enthralled in Lady Kessandra¡¯s story, so much so that she¡¯d eaten five cookies while listening to it, something she only realized after the story ended.  ¡°He sounds wonderful, Lady Kessandra.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, that was so long ago.  It¡¯s been almost three thousand years since that time.  Many things have changed.  He has changed.  But, I like to think there is still some part of him that is that nervous teenager, asking an eccentric girl to marry him under a moonlit sky.¡±


    Zara wanted to ask so many questions, many of them impolite.  For instance, why had Lady Kessandra aged, when the Emperor had not?  Did they ever have any children together?  How did things change from eight wives to nearly a thousand concubines, and why?  In what ways had the Emperor changed, exactly?  Why did she move to Ebonrue when she was so obviously one of the Emperor¡¯s favorites?  But, she didn¡¯t know the other lady well enough to ask any of these things, so she only requested, ¡°Will you tell me more of your story at a later time?¡±


    ¡°You know, I think I¡¯d like that.  Now¡­¡±  Lady Kessandra motioned to the tarot cards.  ¡°Let¡¯s take a peek into your future.¡±


    Smiling, Zara nodded eagerly.  Fortune telling wasn¡¯t done on Ankali.  It wasn¡¯t forbidden, just considered unlucky to try to know the unknowable.  ¡°What if it looks bad for me?  What if the cards spell certain doom?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry.  The cards only show you a probable future.¡±


    Zara watched as the round cards were laid out on the table in a circle.  Then a six-spoked cross of cards was placed in the middle of them, making a rough image of a wheel or gear.  ¡°Is this how it is always done?¡±


    ¡°There are more ancient methods from before the time of galactic conquest, but they are largely lost.¡±  Lady Kessandra flipped a few cards, one of them the image of a closed treasure box, another of blood pouring from a punctured hand, and another of a cloaked figure.  ¡°These are the cards representing your past.  There are secrets in your past that you do not know, one residing in your blood, and one pertaining to someone close to you.¡±


    Zara wasn¡¯t worried so much about the secrets of people close to her.  Everyone had secrets.  ¡°In my blood?¡±  She held up her hand and looked at it, wondering what that could mean.  ¡°Do you think that refers to the blood pact I made with my sister Thalia never to tell our mother that we broke her favorite vase?¡±


    Lady Kessandra laughed lightly, ¡°Let us hope that¡¯s all it means.¡±  More cards were turned over.  One showed a tangled rope, one a ghostly woman, and another a fire.  ¡°These are the cards speaking of your present life.  You have become entangled in the affairs of the dead without even knowing it.  Ghostly presences press upon you to act on their behalf, but there is danger¡­  If you are not careful, this fire could consume all you hold dear.¡±


    ¡°The affairs of the dead?¡±  That perplexed Zara even more than the last.  ¡°Who could have died?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Lady Kessandra thought about it.  ¡°There was a Hostage Concubine who briefly lived in Begonia House before you came.  She died under mysterious circumstances.  It was some years ago.  I recall there being a scandal about it.  Something to do with the Lady Astrid of Marigold House?  It¡¯s hard to remember.  I try to stay out of concubine drama these days. I¡¯m too old for that nonsense.¡±


    ¡°Really?  Lady Astrid?¡±  Perhaps that explained a bit about why Lady Astrid had known about her and targeted her.  ¡°That sheds light on a few things.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.  I¡¯ve met her once or twice.  Revolting personality, that one.  You¡¯d do well to steer clear of her schemes.  And her brother as well, he¡¯s¡­a questionable individual.¡±  She tapped a fingernail on another card.  ¡°Well, enough about them.  Let¡¯s see what¡¯s in your future.¡±


    Zara watched as another few cards were turned.  This time, cards representing a space cruiser and a bound woman were revealed, as well as cards showing a bubbling cauldron, and a dagger-wielding assassin on either side of a card representing a king.  ¡°The next cards represent the near future.  These first two likely mean you will be taken on a journey against your will.  I¡¯m not so sure about the last three.  Perhaps they do not refer to you so much as the Emperor?  But, he is always in danger from such things.  Wait¡­¡±  Lady Kessandra moved the king card slightly.  Another card was beneath it.  ¡°I accidentally put an extra card here.¡±  She turned it to reveal a card depicting a concubine.  ¡°How strange.¡±


    ¡°What could it mean, Lady Kessandra?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not certain.  Let¡¯s¡­  Let¡¯s look at the final cards, the ones representing your far future.¡±  She stretched out her hand to turn one of the last cards, and a sudden breeze from the open window snatched it from her.  It, along with many of the other cards on the table, were whipped up and sent fluttering around the room.  The circular cards danced in the wind like enchanted petals loosed from a magic flower.  ¡°Oh no!  The cards!¡±


    Zara stood, her heart pounding.  The wind had prevented Lady Kessandra from divulging anything about Zara¡¯s far future.


    Did it mean¡­that her far future might not exist?

 Chapter 5: The Deadly Secret

    <h3 style="text-align: center">Chapter 5: The Deadly Secret


    It kept playing over and over in Zara¡¯s mind.  As she went to leave Wisteria House, Lady Kessandra pulled her in, kissing her on her cheek and holding her there long enough to whisper, ¡°Beware.  The Adjudicants are always watching.¡±  Did she mean to imply that the Adjudicants even watched them while they were inside Begonia House?  Surely, they couldn¡¯t watch the concubines as they slept or took baths, could they?


    ¡°Rowan, will you attend me on my walk today?  I wish to speak with you about improvements to the gardens.¡±  She did not wish to speak with Rowan about improvements to the gardens.


    Rowan grumbled about it but eventually acquiesced to the command.


    Zara usually took a walk around Ward 43 in the evenings as the sun was low in the sky.  This had two benefits.  Most of the concubines walked in the early afternoons, and it allowed Zara to avoid interacting with the women, many of whom she understood to be looking for any reason to report her to Lady Astrid for whatever foolish violation of rules they could dream up.  But it also kept her out of the harsh sunlight.  She still couldn¡¯t see well in the sun, and her skin burned too easily.  The doctors back on Ankali said that it may take years for her to re-acclimate to being outdoors in the light due to some of the quasi-legal genetic therapy treatments she received in the bunker.


    This evening was cool enough for Zara to need a shawl, but Rowan wore their favorite jacket, the one with a faint oil-slick sheen to the exterior and slight shoulder pads that somehow did not make Rowan look any more or less masculine.  The androgyny of Rowan never ceased to amaze Zara.  Her home planet of Ankali had binary sexes at birth, as many planets did, but Rowan came from Ytera, where all citizens were born to a single-sex known as ¡®Nor¡¯ due to a genetic mutation.  They did not choose a binary sex until later in life when they were ready to have children, at which point they would trigger their body¡¯s development manually with the introduction of one of two hormones.  It all sounded complicated and strange to Zara, but she knew that to Rowan, it was completely normal.  Though it often made Zara wonder if she¡¯d have chosen to be a woman if she had to make a choice.


    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re far enough away,¡± Rowan said impatiently, ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Zara was surprised that Rowan figured out that she¡¯d brought them away from Begonia House for a secret discussion.  ¡°Can¡¯t I just want to walk with you?¡±


    ¡°No, you hate walking with me.  I¡¯m grumpy and complain the whole time.  So when you ask me to do it, I know something is up.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you have me there,¡± Zara replied, moving a bit closer to Rowan.  ¡°You¡¯re right.  Something is going on.  Since you¡¯re our maintenance person, carpenter, technologist, and such, you¡¯re the best one to address it.  I think it¡¯s possible that the Adjudicants have recording devices in Begonia House.  We may not be able to take them out without alerting them that we know, but if we can find them, at least, we can know where we¡¯ll be spied upon.  Do you think you can find out?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d be easier if I knew what they were using to spy, but¡­  Yeah, I can see if I can find anything.  Whatever it is, it must be pretty well hidden if we didn¡¯t find it when we were cleaning.¡±


    Zara had considered that.  Perhaps they had some sort of nanotechnology capable of recording and parsing the conversations automatically, ranking them for manual review?  The technology of Viverides would be extremely advanced compared to what they¡¯d known on Ankali, she knew.  Somehow, this planet could be frightfully backward and incredibly advanced at the same time.  All of the customs and clothing and conveyances harkened to the time before the Galactic Conquest.  And then you had things like the Adjudicants and the INA injections.  Ah, that reminded her..


    ¡°I also want you to find out what you can about the Imperial Nano Agent that they injected into me.  But, quietly.  Don¡¯t use the Begonia House core-net connection, as it¡¯ll be monitored.¡±


    ¡°Not a problem, boss.  Though I do know something about it.  Overheard it while I was at a tavern in town.¡±


    Shocked, Zara came to a full stop.  ¡°Rowan!  A tavern?!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you know, a bar.  Where normal people go to socialize.  It¡¯s really not that shocking.  Anyway, most taverns aren¡¯t like the ones on Ankali.  It¡¯s just some people sitting around drinking some relatively mundane fermented drinks and chatting.  Shocking depravity takes place elsewhere.¡±   Rowan shook their head and then waved it aside.  ¡°Anyway, the Imperial Nano Agent prevents the concubines from getting pregnant.  Since the Emperor will likely live forever, he sees offspring as being a threat.  He had some kids in the past, I guess, who tried to assassinate or overthrow him.  They are all dead now, and there is no clear line of succession.  But, it only prevents concubines from getting pregnant BY the Emperor.  So, if they do get pregnant, then it¡¯s automatically known that they were sleeping around.  I guess the INA does some other stuff too, but I¡¯m not sure what.¡±


    ¡°I see.  Well, keep your ears open in case you find out anything more.¡±  What a strange way of doing things.  Zara rubbed both of her cheeks, trying to stave off the cool air of the evening. Eventually, she turned, intending to start back towards Begonia House.  Immediately, however, she spotted Xaz running towards them at a high rate of speed.  ¡°Xaz?¡±


    The creature skidded to a stop, his claw-like toes scraping the pavement noisily.  ¡°Lady Inkblossom¡­¡±  He panted just for a moment, not too out of breath, with the excellent shape he was in, but Zara had the feeling that he¡¯d run at top speed.  ¡°Grumpy visitors have arrived.  Miss Trisla concocts the La Tersi tea.  The one that comes in the little white balls that looks like candy but is not candy and tastes so bitter.  Bitter bitter.¡±


    Zara¡¯s eyes widened.  Trisla wouldn¡¯t make their most expensive tea for just anyone.  She glanced at Rowan, ¡°We should hurry back.¡±


    -*-*-*-


    Zara returned to Begonia House just in time.  As she entered the parlor, she found two people sitting on one of the mismatched divans, each of them taking a sip of the tea handed to them by Trisla.  Lady Astrid looked as she normally did, perhaps with a bit more pink in her hair than usual.  The man beside her, however, Zara did not recognize but could make a decent enough guess.  He possessed the same coloring as Lady Astrid, though no pink in his hair.  Although he had a long face and thin nose, they suited his chiseled facial structure.  Zara would have imagined the captain of the Ebonrue Korkudai to be a far more gruff figure than this fellow, with his clean-shaven chin and upswept white-blond bangs.


    ¡°Oh, this is quaint.  A La Tersi white strain.  I haven¡¯t had such common tea in years.  Mother used to give it to us when we misbehaved, remember Vander?¡±


    Lord Astor¡¯s only reply was, ¡°Hm.¡±


    ¡°Lady Astrid,¡± Trisla signed as she stepped aside, her face and mannerisms as formal as possible, ¡°And her brother, Lord Astor, to see you, milady.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with your serving girl?¡± Lady Astrid demanded abruptly.  ¡°She hasn¡¯t said a word since we arrived.  If she¡¯s deaf or mute, why doesn¡¯t she have implants to deal with that?¡±


    Zara tried to steel herself against what she knew would likely be a harrowing visit.  She still didn¡¯t know why Lady Astrid hated her so much, other than that it likely had something to do with the prior occupant of Begonia House.  ¡°Trisla¡¯s throat was damaged by inhaling conchems during the war on our planet.  It causes too much genetic variance for the easy installation of implants.  Although she could go through the procedures to rehabilitate her throat, it would be exceedingly painful and comes with many other dangers, so she has decided not to.¡±  Zara wanted to yell that it wasn¡¯t ANY of Lady Astrid¡¯s business.  What right did she have to know anything at all about Trisla?  Zara glanced at Trisla and tried to apologize with her eyes.  Deciding that the best course of action would be to change the subject, she asked, ¡°My apologies for not being prepared for your visit, Lady Astrid, Lord Astor.  Is there something particular that brings you to Begonia House today?¡±


    Lady Astrid turned to the side.  Beside her on the divan was a large gift box with a bit of tissue paper hanging out.  On top of the box was a data chip in a small glass case.  ¡°A few weeks ago, Madame Olendra got our dresses in for the Night Blossom Dance.  I told her I¡¯d save her girl a trip and bring yours right over to you.  And then, I¡¯m afraid, it slipped my mind for a while.  But, here you go.¡±


    ¡°Night Blossom Dance?¡±  Zara leaned forward to take the box, making sure to grab the data chip first.  ¡°What¡¯s on the chip?¡±


    ¡°Instructions for the dance, of course.  You¡¯ll need to learn it before you can perform it.¡±  Lady Astrid¡¯s reedy, thin smile allowed her to give a look of false pity to Zara.  ¡°All the Concubines perform in front of the Emperor.  Each is assigned to one of several dance numbers.  Ward 41, 42 and 43 will perform Whirling Aurora.  The Night Blossom Dance is important.  It¡¯s one of the four times a year we¡¯re brought into the Forbidden City, though only into the Outer Court, of course.¡±


    Realization swept over Zara.  Lady Astrid had kept this from her as long as she could, just so that Zara would have far less time to prepare and would, hopefully, completely embarrass herself.  ¡°How long do I have until the dance?¡±


    ¡°About ten days?  Surely that¡¯s enough to learn one dance.  It barely takes me an hour or two to learn any of the court dances.¡±  Astrid swept her hair over her shoulder as she pressed close against Lord Astor.  The man didn¡¯t seem to care about the horrible trick being played on Zara, but he did watch her like a hawk.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Zara bit the inside of her cheek hard so as not to give Lady Astrid a piece of her mind.  ¡°Yes.  Of course.  Thank you for bringing the dress and data chip over, Lady Astrid.¡±  Politeness.  Manners.  Etiquette.  She just needed to keep from strangling this woman.


    ¡°You visited Lady Kessandra,¡± Lord Astor said, changing the subject.  He did not ask a question, but somehow made the statement into one.


    ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°She is disgraced, of course,¡± he said.  As he spoke, Lady Astrid curled her hands around her brother¡¯s arm and looked up at him with the rapt attention of a younger sister doting upon her elder brother.


    ¡°Is she?  How so?¡±  Zara asked as she lifted the box and handed it off to Trisla.  ¡°Put it in my sewing area, if you would.  I¡¯ll make any necessary alterations later.¡±


    The revelation that Zara sewed caused Lady Astrid¡¯s face to turn sour and disdainful.  Lord Astor seemed not to notice his sister¡¯s scowl as he answered Zara¡¯s question.  ¡°She used to be an Imperial Consort. Incredibly highly ranked.  Second in rank only to the Supreme Imperial Consort.  Before she was moved to Ebonrue, her rank was lowered to Honored Consort.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Nobody knows.  There are only rumors.  And rumors are not worth repeating.¡±  Lord Astor¡¯s countenance didn¡¯t really readily express emotion.  It wasn¡¯t cold, not exactly.  More¡­guarded.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about that old woman,¡± Lady Astrid complained, scooting forward in her seat slightly.  ¡°I can see you¡¯ve barely changed any of the furnishings since you¡¯ve moved in.  It¡¯s such an eclectic look.  You should really see about updating Begonia House¡¯s decor if you¡¯re going to host guests.¡±


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t¡­¡±  Zara stopped herself from pointing out that she didn¡¯t invite them to Begonia House in the first place.  ¡°I don¡¯t know much about furnishings and decor.  My apologies, Lady Astrid.  You¡¯ve been here before?¡±


    ¡°I have.  I had tea with Lady Noralina many times here.  She was the last resident of Begonia House.  We were close.  Fast friends.  Like sisters.¡±


    Zara noticed that Lord Astor gave Lady Astrid the faintest look of dubious surprise, indeed so faint that Zara wondered if she¡¯d merely imagined it.


    ¡°In fact,¡± Lady Astrid continued, ¡°I loaned her a special book of poetry that I¡¯d personally written.  If you find it around, I would so love to have it back.  Small tome.  Blue cover with peonies on it.¡±


    Zara looked towards Trisla and signed, ¡°Was anything like that found while cleaning?¡±  Trisla shook her head.  ¡°Sorry Lady Astrid,¡± she said, looking back at the pair on the divan, ¡°We¡¯ve not found anything like that, and we¡¯ve cleaned fairly thoroughly.  If we come across it, though, I¡¯ll be sure to get it back to you.¡±


    ¡°Kind of you,¡± Astrid replied, though somehow she made it sound like an insult.  ¡°Well, we best be going.  Thank you for the tea and the¡­illuminating conversation.  Come Vander?¡±


    Trisla showed the two to the door.  Once Zara heard the latch, she collapsed into one of the mismatched armchairs in the parlor.


    Rowan¡¯s head poked around the corner.  ¡°You¡¯re terrible at dancing, Lady Zara.  I¡¯ve seen wobbly baby goats that are more graceful.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she grumbled, grabbing a pillow off of the divan, and then abruptly screaming into it.


    -*-*-*-


    When Zara contacted Lady Kessandra in the morning, the older woman came over immediately.  Zara made her comfortable in the parlor, where much of the furniture had been pushed aside so that Zara could practice dancing.


    ¡°It¡¯s strange.  First-year concubines usually are exempted from the dances, as it¡¯s believed they¡¯re still learning.  Someone must have removed your exemption,¡± Lady Kessandra remarked as she sipped some coffee.  ¡°No no, not quite so fast as you spin.  You¡¯ll make yourself dizzy.¡±


    Zara came to a stop and put her hands on her knees, slightly out of breath.  The doctors on Ankali had told her not to exert herself.  Too much physical activity could trigger breathing difficulties, as her lungs were still scarred from inhaling conchem during the war.  ¡°Will you also dance, Lady Kessandra?¡±


    ¡°Me?  No, no.  I applied for an exemption on the basis of age years ago.  Here, this might help.¡±  Lady Kessandra opened an embroidered kinchaku purse and took out a holochip.  ¡°Do you have a holoplayer?  I know they¡¯re considered old-fashioned now.¡±


    Zara nodded as she took the holochip and went to the side of the room.  After inserting it into the old player, the music for the Whirling Aurora dance began, and a number of tiny drones no bigger than dragonflies ejected and zipped off to take up points around the room in order to project two faceless hologram dancers moving in time to the music.  Zara watched for a moment, and she had to agree.  It did make it a bit easier to see them move in three dimensions rather than just on the broken viewscreen.  Placing herself between the figures, she tried to keep up with the dance.


    ¡°Will I meet the Emperor at this event, Lady Kessandra?¡±


    ¡°It is unlikely.  He may be there, but you won¡¯t be presented to him.  However, at the feast you may meet some members of the royal family or the Noble Ministers.¡±


    ¡°Like Prince Senthir?¡±


    Lady Kessandra¡¯s smile was slight, but she cracked open a fan to hide it behind.  ¡°You¡¯re fond of Prince Senthir?  Most people find him melancholy and a bit grumpy.¡±


    ¡°Not you though?  He visits you monthly, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    Lady Kessandra¡¯s fan closed a few inches and she inclined her head.  ¡°He does, but at the behest of his brother.  The Emperor can¡¯t visit me, so he sends Senthir to check on me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see.¡±  Zara felt vindicated.  Lord Astor had insinuated that Lady Kessandra shouldn¡¯t be associated with on the basis of her lowered rank, despite being a higher rank than Lady Astrid and herself.  But if even the Emperor checked on her every month, then surely he still held her in some esteem.  Though, the Emperor was¡­the Emperor.  Surely he could visit Lady Kessandra if he wanted to do so.  All of Viverides constituted his personal and private property, the seat of the Galactic Empire.  Saying he couldn¡¯t go somewhere on Viverides was a bit like saying someone disallowed you from using a bathroom in your own house.


    Zara got so caught up in her thoughts that she tripped over her left foot.  She tumbled onto the floor in an inelegant sprawl, though thankfully didn¡¯t twist or cut anything in the process.  ¡°Oh, I¡¯m just not made for dancing,¡± she sighed.  Instead of standing, she flopped over on the floor, laying on her back and looking up at the ceiling.  ¡°Tell me they won¡¯t execute me for making a mess of a dance, Lady Kessandra.¡±


    The old woman laughed merrily.  ¡°No, no, they don¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°Lady Zara!  Lady Zara!¡±  Rowan¡¯s voice interrupted the conversation just a second before they burst into the room and came skidding to a stop.  ¡°I didn¡¯t find any spying devices, but I found something you have¡­to¡­see.  Oh, hello.¡±  Belatedly bowing to Lady Kessandra, Zara could see Rowan wincing at having entered in such a boisterous manner.


    ¡°My apologies, Lady Kessandra.  Rowan has the manners of rabid mongoose, at times.¡±


    Lady Kessandra waved it off with her usual good nature.  ¡°No, no.  The excitement of youth is thrilling.  Plus, now I want to know as well.  What is your discovery?¡±


    Rowan produced a book covered in blue sateen with embroidered pink peonies on it.  ¡°This is the book of poetry Lady Astrid described loaning to Lady Noralina, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    When Zara reached out to take it, she immediately noticed that it had a rather thick silvery contraption on one side.  ¡°A lock?  Who would lock a book of poetry?¡±  Though, Zara considered briefly that Astrid might just be such a spectacularly bad poet that Lady Noralina had decided to keep the poems under lock and key.


    Rowan held up one finger and then approached with a hand-held unit often used for signal scanning and, frankly, picking digital locks.  Within just a few seconds, and a few adjustments by Rowan, the lock popped open.


    ¡°Oh, I mean¡­¡±  Zara wasn¡¯t sure she should look.  Locked items like this tended to be incredibly private.  Prying would be in bad taste.


    ¡°Go on,¡± Lady Kessandra urged, her grin mischievous and oddly impish for a woman her age.  ¡°We all want to know exactly what kind of poetry Lady Astrid has been writing.¡±


    Carefully, Zara picked up the small book and opened it.  Flipping through the pages, she could easily discern that nothing within was in the format of a poem.  No.  Each page contained a date on the top followed by an entry scrawled carefully in gorgeous handwriting.  She flipped through a few and caught several references to Begonia House and its vast cavern of cheese in the basement.  Nothing appeared unusual, so Zara skipped to the end.


    She read the entry aloud for the group.  ¡°Santimber 9, 3391 A.G.C.  My life is in great danger.  I¡¯ve discovered a terrible secret.  An unspeakable secret.  Most unfortunately, I have no proof as of yet.  But, I soon will.  If the Astors find out what I know before I can prove anything, I doubt I will live to make another entry.  If I do not update this¡­ To whoever finds this journal, I am sure you are the newest resident of Begonia House.  I¡¯ve done nothing but attempt to prove my loyalty and obedience to the Emperor.  Please, I beg you, avenge me if you can.¡±


    The trio looked at each other in silence.  Zara closed the book quietly and snapped the lock back into place.  ¡°I think you should¡­  Put this back where you found it, Rowan.¡±


    Lady Kessandra nodded her approval as she fanned herself slowly.  ¡°Yes.  And for now, let us not speak of it until we can find out more.¡±


    -*-*-*-


    Under the big oak tree in the inner courtyard of Magnolia House, Astrid spread herself luxuriously over her brother¡¯s lap as he leaned against the thick trunk.  With her head on his leg, he couldn¡¯t easily keep the book he¡¯d been reading in his lap, so he had to put it aside.  Quietly, he instead slowly caressed his sister¡¯s hair.


    ¡°You¡¯re worried about that silly girl in that silly cheese house.  If they haven¡¯t found Nora¡¯s journal by now, I can¡¯t imagine they ever will.  Don¡¯t think of her.  Think of me.¡±


    Vander grunted, and he watched as his sister slid her hand down to her thigh.  Inch by inch, she began gathering up the fabric of her dress, pulling it higher and higher on her leg, revealing the same legs he adored having wrapped around him.  ¡°Someone could see.¡±


    ¡°Let them.  I¡¯ll say I was having you look at a discolored spot on my leg or something of that nature.  Truly, Vander, you¡¯re too worried.¡±


    Vander¡¯s teeth grit together.  She knew exactly what to do to unsettle him.  Every single time, he promised himself it would be the last, while also knowing¡­  It would never be the last.  He was addicted to her.  He¡¯d given up his posh and rewarding life on Seliora in order to just be in the same city as her.  Astrid shifted her weight, almost writhing against him.  The back of her head brushed incessantly against the thin zipper that held his pants closed.  She did it on purpose.  She always did it on purpose.


    He attempted to stop her by grabbing her hair, fisting his hand in it, and pulling sharply to still her head.  She gasped, moaning deliriously in wanton pain, and in response, hiked her skirt high enough that he could plainly see she wasn¡¯t wearing anything underneath.


    ¡°Stop it,¡± Vander demanded.  ¡°I told you, no more.¡±  Unfortunately, no matter what he said, his body betrayed him.


    ¡°You can say that all you want, but eventually, you¡¯ll give in.  I love it when you hate yourself.  Your self-loathing and rage make you ravage me like a ravenous beast.¡±


    With a huff, Vander shoved Astrid off of his lap and stood.  As he walked away, he could hear her tinkling, girlish laugh.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be back.¡±

 Chapter 6: The Periphery

    <h3 style="text-align: center">Chapter 6: The Periphery


    ¡°You¡¯ve not completed the dance once without tripping, missing a step, or generally making a mess of the whole damn thing,¡± Rowan commented as Zara placed another pin in the dress hanging off of the headless sewing form, ¡°You are, generally, a dancing disaster.¡±


    ¡°Please stop reminding me.¡± She knew Rowan was right. It would take an absolute miracle for her to make it through the dance without causing a scene.


    ¡°You should have Trisla learn the dance and go instead. She¡¯s at least graceful. And who is going to notice?¡±


    ¡°Rowan, stop, you¡¯re upsetting Lady Zara,¡± Trisla signed. She picked up a small pillow from one of the armchairs and bopped Rowan in the face with it. ¡°Anyway,¡± she continued after dropping the pillow again, ¡°Lady Astrid would know, and she¡¯d definitely not just let it slide.¡±


    ¡°Lady Nastrid,¡± Xaz added mournfully, ¡°Nasty Nastrid.¡±


    ¡°At least we didn¡¯t find any Adjudicant spy devices in the house. If we did, they¡¯d definitely be here to arrest you for hazardous dancing without a license,¡± Rowan noted.


    ¡°Hm.¡± That was all Zara could say, as she had put a couple of pins between her lips to hold while she moved around the sewing form. The dance would be a disaster, yes. But social humiliation could be weathered. A bit of embarrassment was nothing compared to the discovery of Lady Noralina¡¯s journal. They¡¯d attempted to look the woman up on the core-net, to find out what they could about who she was, and what had become of her. But, her entry on the corepedia had all the hallmarks of something redacted by imperial decree. Little remained except a notation of when she¡¯d entered and when she¡¯d ¡°left¡± the service of the Emperor. It didn¡¯t even mention her homeworld, and all of the entries of the concubines, past and present, contained links to read more about their homeworlds. The concubine was the physical representation of their planet or moon or asteroid upon Viverides, an avatar of a whole people. The implications of the entry not being linked to a homeworld were nothing less than chilling.


    What secret had Lady Noralina discovered that had led to her¡­death? Was she dead? Imprisoned? Sent away? Lady Kessandra mentioned she believed the woman to have been executed, but said she¡¯d seen so many executions in her years that she just couldn¡¯t recall the reasons for that particular one. But, she also admitted it was possible she had misremembered and the woman had just been imprisoned.


    Zara didn¡¯t like Lady Astrid, but also didn¡¯t want to believe her capable of something so cruel as ruining a person¡¯s entire life. Not just a single person, but potentially an entire world. What secret could be worth so many lives?


    The sudden rap on the front door startled Zara so thoroughly she almost sucked the final pin into her mouth and down her throat. Thankfully, avoiding that fate, she plucked the pin out and poked it into the sewing form as Trisla went to answer the door. When she returned, Adjudicant Edi trailed along behind her. Trisla stepped aside, announcing ¡°Adjudicant Edi to see you, Lady Zara¡± via a quick series of signs.


    ¡°Ah, Adjudicant Edi. How pleasant to see you. I assume you¡¯ve come to give us instructions regarding the Night Blossom Festival? Won¡¯t you sit?¡±


    ¡°I am not an organic entity, and thus have no need to change positions for comfort,¡± Edi pronounced, remaining right where he was.


    ¡°Right. Of course,¡± Zara replied. Sometimes the strangeness of the Adjudicants still unnerved her. ¡°We were just speaking of Lady Noralina, the previous occupant of Begonia House. Were you acquainted with her?¡±


    Zara saw the small glance between Trisla and Rowan. They, of course, knew that nobody had been speaking of any such thing, but understood Zara¡¯s attempt to gather more information.


    ¡°Why do you wish to know about someone who has left the Emperor¡¯s service? The past does not concern you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well¡­¡± Zara knew she had to think fast. The Adjudicants were always touchy about anything that might make it seem like there were problems on Viverides. ¡°I heard a rumor that she was dangerous. And since I now live where she lived, I am worried the danger might linger. I can hardly sleep at night with the worry that someone might come for vengeance upon Lady Noralina and think that, because I live here, I am her.¡±


    Edi¡¯s quiet lingered for several seconds, and Zara assumed that the robot had taken to processing the concern, weighing it against thousands of years of rules and edicts, cross-referencing it against data about Lady Noralina¡¯s situation. Eventually, Edi pronounced, ¡°Lady Noralina was confirmed to be in contact with the Spiral Alliance, and plotting an assassination attempt against the royal family. However, she was only temporarily at Begonia House for less than a month due to her original dwelling, Hydrangea House, having been found to be infested with Cherka Mites. Begonia House was cleared for rehabitation, and it is confirmed that all of Lady Noralina¡¯s allies have been eliminated. By my calculations, there is only a .004% chance that any lingering danger from this event remains to affect you, Lady Zarathenia.¡±


    A number of glances were exchanged during Edi¡¯s explanation by the occupants of the house, but Zara did her best to look shocked, and then relieved, at the appropriate moments. She didn¡¯t believe any of it. Noralina¡¯s last journal entry had placed the danger as coming from the Astors. Could¡­ Could Lady Astrid be a Spiral Alliance spy? No, it just didn¡¯t make any sense. Astrid fighting for the freedom of a far part of the galaxy just¡­didn¡¯t track with what Zara knew of her personality. Lord Astor, though? Maybe. She knew less about him. ¡°You¡¯ve put my mind at rest, Adjudicant Edi. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Now that you are at ease, let us begin a review of the protocols regarding the Night Blossom Festival.¡±


    ¡°The morning after next, a closed carriage will arrive to convey you to the Forbidden City. As there will be a large number of galactic dignitaries and imperial allies attending from off-world, all Hostage Concubines will travel by land to decrease spaceport traffic and security checks. You may take one unarmed attendant with you. Due to previous incidents arising from conflicts over shared conveyances, each concubine will travel separately. Travel will take two days, and your evening¡¯s rest after the first day has been planned at one of the many inns or hotels along the way.


    On the second day, you will arrive in the Forbidden City. It will take some time for you to pass through the security and health scans. Afterwards, you will be taken to one of the many royal residences in the Periphery and given a room. You may enjoy your time at the festival in the streets of the Periphery until the day of the dance. On that day, shortly before sundown, you will enter a royal hoverbarge and be brought into the Outer Court. Adjudicators will direct your formation and the details of performing the dance. After the dance, you will be led to the Night Blossom Feast, where you may eat and socialize. At midnight, a gong will be sounded and the Hostage Concubines must return to the hoverbarge to be taken back out of the Outer Court. The next morning, carriages will arrive to return you to Ebonrue.


    During the entirety of this process, you must behave with the highest level of etiquette and decorum. Adjudicants will be watching every step of the way. The eyes of many worlds will be watching the procession, and there will be numerous recording devices in the Periphery, though of course, not within the Outer Court. As a representative of the Emperor, all you do must reflect well upon His Galactic Majesty and the palace planet. Do you understand all I have told you today?¡±


    Although it was a lot of information, Zara knew she had no choice but to comply, ¡°Of course, Adjudicant Edi. I understand completely.¡±


    -*-*-*-


    The trip was largely as Adjudicant Edi had explained. Although the carriage looked as if it hailed from a bygone era, the driver, a jolly man named Kersel, had two sturdy augmented horses, and had done a great deal of work to the carriage to make the ride smooth. Zara and Trisla took turns looking out of the small tinted window at the passing landscape of Viverides. Close to Ebonrue, the pastoral villages were surrounded by lush crop fields and copses of trees. As they approached the Forbidden City, buildings began to cluster, and villages gave way to the tall buildings of the vibrant outskirts of the Forbidden City. Everywhere, signs or decorations welcomed travelers, and their money. Impromptu stalls littered the roadsides, selling everything from fine fruit and flower crowns to puffed candy and Leonara incense.


    The Night Blossom Festival celebrated the beginning of the month-long blossoming of the Leonara trees, which bloomed only at night. Once, there had only been less than a dozen Leonara trees left in existence, but the Dowager Empress had them cultivated and planted all over the Forbidden City, after which they became a royal symbol. The blossoming coincided with the end of the spring season in Viverides, as well as the birthday of the Dowager Empress, so all of these things became wrapped into a single celebration not just on Viverides, but across dozens of the central planets. Many rich women paid good money for a single dried blossom from within the Outer Court, for it was said the Dowager Empress bathed in these blossoms while pregnant with the Emperor. They would keep dried petals under their pillows while with child, in the hopes of their own babe becoming someone important and strong.


    The Periphery was not considered officially a part of the Forbidden City, but really, the Forbidden City could not have existed without it. Around the exterior of the black repulsion dome that covered the entire royal city, throngs of people had built up an additional city. Here travelers to Viverides could find shelter in inns and hotels, shrines had been built, prostitutes plied their wares, and imperial craftsmen and apprentices not high-ranked enough to live within the Outer Court kept shops and residences. Here were markets of produce brought in from far beyond Ebonrue, even from off-world. The entire fashion industry of the Central Planets revolved around the fashion houses of the Periphery, not just of clothing, but of perfumes and colognes, and aesthetic augmentations. Musicians flocked to the Periphery¡¯s clubs and bars, hoping to be heard by someone important and launched into fame. Rich offworlders came to schmooze and party and demanded high-quality service and lodgings. Zara had heard that almost a billion people lived in the Periphery or one of its suburbs, and now seeing it as the carriage navigated one of the streets in the Historic District, she believed it.


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    She felt overwhelmed. Ankali didn¡¯t even have a billion people on the entire planet. But here, they were packed so densely she felt as if she could barely breathe.


    Above the glow of the festival lanterns, a rain of twinkling holo-blossoms, and a thousand viewscreens and neon signs, stood the enormous repulsion dome, black as night. It occasionally would sparkle, here and there, as particles in the air or leaves blowing in the wind, or even Leonara petals, impacted with it. Otherwise, it remained monolithic and black, a strange dark presence looming over both the Periphery¡¯s high rises and the smaller historic buildings.


    They were taken to Skyblade Palace, a silvery building looking much like a knife cutting into the night against the backdrop of the dome. With its two hundred and fifty floors set aside for imperial guests, royal personages, families of the Noble Ministers, and so forth, Zara found it to be the most elegant and incredible building she¡¯d ever seen, much less been inside. No expense had been spared to make the guests feel at ease. The staff manning the front desk even had language augments, including Galactic Sign Language, enabling Trisla to easily check them in. The rooms on the eighty-sixth floor overlooked much of the city, allowing a view of the incredible size of the Periphery and the enormous magnitude of the Night Blossom Festival¡¯s influence on the city.


    On the first day, they explored the festival from the streets, trying out a number of fried delicacies and playing some games. Trisla won a pair of mittens with knitted Leonara blossoms on them, and Zara won a Leonara blossom hairpin, though for all the money they spent on playing the games, they likely could have just bought each of the items several times over. When the sunset, fireworks erupted all over the city, and soon the scent of the blossoms washed over every corner of the Periphery. The pair walked back to Skyblade Palace along the Leonara-tree-lined canal, marveling at the intricately carved wooden boats that ferried romantic couples up and down the waterway.


    Exhausted, Zara fell asleep the moment she hit her bed. She dreamed of spinning gaily underneath a rain of Leonara blossoms, only to realize that dozens of passersby had stopped to gawk and laugh at her uncoordinated dance. Even though she tried to ignore them, the sinking feeling of shame and dread could not be banished.


    Zara woke in the night to flashing lights and muffled sounds of sirens. Groggily, she sat up and shuffled over to the window, pulling aside the curtains to peer into the night. Across from the Skyblade Palace stood another skyrise, though not as grand, and not owned by the Royal Family. Nonetheless posh, it was the sort of place inhabited by rich offworlders who wanted to brag that they ¡°kept a residence¡± in the Periphery. Zara watched as an elite Korkudai team in an armored shuttlecraft raided an apartment on a slightly lower floor from where she stood. Faint pops could be heard as the Korkudai and the apartment¡¯s residents traded gunfire. The sound of and sight of battle immediately gripped Zara with a feeling of such nostalgic terror that she slid to her knees and tried to make herself much, much smaller in case of stray bullets.


    The panic of being separated from her parents at the beginning of the war on Ankali came flooding back, and her lungs began to burn as she forgot to breathe, making the remembrance of the searing conchem all the more vivid. The bombing had begun whilst her parents were away on business, and Zara had to flee the capital city in the middle of the battle with the Kalimat staff. The exodus had not gone well. Many died. Their gruesome screams and pleas still haunted her. Zara climbed over bodies of those she knew, trying not to be seen. She relived the horrible dread of watching her beloved Governess, Madame Felice, take off her gas mask to place it on Zara, knowing that she herself would die without it¡­ Helplessness. The utter helplessness. Madame Felice gasping¡­ Croaking with one of her last breaths, ¡°Run, Zara, run!¡±


    Something touched Zara¡¯s shoulder and she screamed in abject terror, the bloodcurdling noise piercing the night. But it was only Trisla. The noise had woken her. Kneeling beside Zara, she put an arm around her and rubbed her back slowly. It had been a long time since Zara had such a night, though in her youth the terror had been much more prevalent. As Zara began to breathe easier, and her heart rate returned to normal, the two of them silently watched the miniature battle unfolding at the building across from the Skyblade Palace.


    Guns and laser pistols were not generally allowed on Viverides, and not allowed at all within the Forbidden City¡¯s repulsion dome. The one exception was the Korkudai, who had special permission to obtain any type of weapon necessary in order to best protect the palace planet. How the people fighting them obtained such weapons, Zara didn¡¯t know. Eventually, one man was dragged out of the building onto the landing in cuffs. Streaks of blood covered his face and clothes. He looked to Zara like a banker, like the sort of man you¡¯d expect to have a respectable job, respectable spouse, and respectable children. As the Korkudai communicated with each other and the battle appeared to be at an end, the man stared blankly off into space. For a moment, Zara thought he might see them, as he glanced upwards. But she knew that the windows of Skyblade palace were mirrored, and it would have been utterly impossible for him to have seen her. He appeared docile. At ease. Unconcerned about whatever might have brought on this police action against his apartment and the others inside, now likely dead. And then, without a moment of hesitation or even the faintest change in expression, he jerked free of the Korkudai officer holding him, ran less than a dozen steps, and with a step up and leap, flung himself off of the building.


    In shock, Zara¡¯s noise of surprise caught in her throat as she watched the man plummet, head first, his arms locked behind him in cuffs. Trisla gripped her silently, unable to make any sound. They neither saw nor heard the man hit below, it being too far to see. But, it did not stop their minds from filling in the noise, and the likely state of the man upon impact.


    -*-*-*-


    Zara did not sleep well after that. Thankfully, they had another full day before the dance. This time, they did not go out into the streets to enjoy the festival, but instead stayed in the room and tried to get the terrifying image of the man jumping to his death out of their minds. Both Zara and Trisla scoured the Periphery core-net to try to find any mention of what might have happened, but there were no reports. Nothing. Not even a mention of a disturbance. As always, the Adjudicants were doing their job to keep the core-net free of anything that might make Viverides, or the Royal Family, look bad.


    On the third day, finally, it was time to get ready for the dance. Zara¡¯s alterations to the dress allowed it to fit wonderfully, and Trisla put her hair up in the way prescribed by Edi. Nervous energy kept Zara¡¯s stomach upset most of the day and was made all the more intense on the way to the hoverbarge as several festival-goers set off firecrackers in the street. Zara¡¯s lungs burned as she gulped down huge breaths of air to try to steady herself.


    Decorated with long garlands of Leonara blossoms, the hoverbarges each could contain almost a hundred concubines apiece. The whole scene was frantic, with a large number of Adjudicants directing each concubine where they should go. For the first time, Zara began to realize the incredible variety of concubines within the Emperor¡¯s service. Many of them were augmented, or displayed genetic variances more commonly termed ¡®mutations¡¯. She had assumed all of the Emperor¡¯s concubines would be female, but some appeared to be male, or even of the nor gender, like Rowan. Zara supposed it made sense. If the Emperor would likely never personally meet these Hostage Concubines, it mattered little to him how they looked. They simply needed to be important to their homeworld, in order to effectively be Hostage Concubines.


    ¡°You must be the illustrious Lady Zarathenia,¡± a male voice said from beside her. Surprised, Zara turned and found herself looking at the most fiery red hair she¡¯d ever seen in her life. The man¡¯s vibrant hair made Zara almost completely miss the strange red marking that swept along one side of his face. It looked vaguely like a burn mark, except it had faint tendrils and lines within it that made it also resemble a ruffled feather or some sort of leaf, with more of the pattern trailing along the man¡¯s jaw. ¡°I¡¯m Tython.¡±


    ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Lord Tython,¡± Zara said, doing the best bow she could on the crowded hoverbarge. ¡°But how did you know my name?¡±


    ¡°Oh no, not a lord. Just plain Tython.¡± He turned, leaning against the railing as he looked up at the higher levels of the barge, ¡°I mean, most of Lady Astrid¡¯s friends are scowling at you, and I am pretty sure one stuck out her tongue as you passed, so I just assumed. She doesn¡¯t like me, either, that Astrid.¡±


    Tython¡¯s build reminded Zara somewhat of farm boys she used to see when she¡¯d travel into the countryside with her father before the war. He didn¡¯t have the regal or erudite bearing of the nobility and instead looked like he did chores under the sun most of the day. The outfit of the male concubines resembled the female one, except instead of a dress, they wore long robes tied with a sash, and loose satin pants underneath. Zara could tell that absolutely nobody had altered Tython¡¯s to make it fit him better. Specifically, his pants were way too long. They bunched at the bottom, and Zara could already imagine the young man tripping over them and falling smack on his face during the dance


    ¡°This your first Night Blossom dance?¡± Tython asked.


    Zara held up one finger and then slid into a crouch. She ignored the looks that many of the concubines gave her, seeing her in that position in front of Tython. ¡°It is my first, yes. Ah, do you mind, Tython? I think I can fix your pants real quick.¡±


    ¡°I¡­think the Adjudicants would laser me in half if I took my pants off in public, Lady Zara.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no problem. You can leave them on.¡± How glad she was, then, that she always kept a few extra safety pins on her, just in case of burst zippers or small tears. ¡°How is it I¡¯ve never seen you before?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I live in Ward 39 with some of the other male and nor concubines. It¡¯s more towards the south side of Ebonrue. Is it true you have a whole basement full of cheese in your house?¡±


    ¡°Goodness gracious! That cheese is more famous than I¡¯ll ever be!¡± Zara began folding the hem of Tython¡¯s left pant leg inwards. She did her best to place the safety pin so that it hung off of a seam and couldn¡¯t be seen from the outside. After working on the other leg, she stood up. ¡°There, now shake your legs a bit? Let me make sure they won¡¯t come undone?¡± Tython did exactly that, and as a testament to Zara¡¯s prowess, the pants now hung straight and didn¡¯t look like Tython would be likely to step on them as he danced. ¡°There. Better?¡±


    Tython nodded and turned back around to grab the railing as the hoverbarge began its procession through the city. ¡°Thank you, Lady Zara. This is my fourth year, by the way. If you want, I can help you navigate through the evening. I remember my first year. It was very lonely.¡±


    ¡°I would appreciate that¡­more than you know, Tython.¡± It put her mind slightly at ease, even though she knew she shouldn¡¯t trust Tython immediately. Concubines could be tricky, pretending to befriend you just to learn things about you and stab you in the back later. ¡°May I ask¡­ Two nights ago, did you see the Korkudai raid the building across the street from the Skyblade Palace? We saw some sort of police action, but I couldn¡¯t find anything on the core-net about what happened there.¡±


    ¡°No, Lady Zara,¡± Tython murmured quietly as he stared into the distance, lifting his hand to give a small wave to the crowds lining the street to watch the hoverbarge procession, ¡°I didn¡¯t see anything. And, take my advice¡­ Neither did you.¡±

 Chapter 7: The Forbidden City

    Chapter 7: The Forbidden City


    Zara couldn¡¯t believe her eyes. The Forbidden City sparkled as if bejeweled. Colors appeared more vivid and intensely saturated. The dome was the culprit. It permitted light through at wavelengths uncommon to the eye, multiplying the hue of everything. The world looked dreamlike, the color so overwhelming that some level of depth perception was sacrificed.


    The lane the hoverbarges traveled deviated not a single centimeter in its straightness, and the road was lined with Leonara trees so alike in size and shape that Zara thought it impossible for them to not be holograms. And yet, when the breeze hit them, petals broke away and swirled in the air, showering the barges with their blue confetti.


    The hoverbarges approached the gates of the Outer Court, accompanied by drum and flute. Exotic offworld animals wandered the enormous immaculate gardens, never tempted by the nearby hedges and trees, as they had been conditioned to only eat in a certain area, out of view. Zara watched as a pair of what looked like crystalline ¡®giraffes¡¯ from ancient lands loped across the garden, and then stopped, watching the passage of the hoverbarges with mirror-like eyes. In another area, she saw a herd of obsidian black Onelphants wandering slowly toward a massive array of fountains. Weren¡¯t black Onelphants extinct?


    ¡°They call this area the War Garden,¡± Tython explained. ¡°In times of peace, it¡¯s made into this lovely oasis. But if the planet Viverides is ever under attack, it¡¯s here that the Emperor¡¯s forces will prepare for the battle. But, since nobody has ever been stupid enough to try to attack Viverides directly, it¡¯s always been a garden. Pretty, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s beyond the walls of the Outer Court. Does anyone ever even see it?¡±


    ¡°Just visitors to the Forbidden City. Mostly offworlders summoned to the palace.¡±


    Zara was stunned. The War Garden stretched for miles and miles. Endless beauty sat here, likely never enjoyed by most of the denizens of the Forbidden City. It existed only to impress upon visitors that the Emperor commanded such incredible resources, he could own a whole herd of rare Onelphants, perhaps the last ones alive, and completely forget about their existence.


    On the journey through the Periphery, the hoverbarge had been quite loud, as various Hostage Concubines tried to get the attention of the media. They all wanted to be in pictures and videos and holographs of the procession that made it back to their homeworlds. But now, with nobody watching their progress, the voices had grown silent. Music took their place as the barges approached the great gates of the Outer Court. The walls of white Biraki steelmarble towered into the air. Zara knew, from her reading, that the Great Gates were the heaviest known doors in the galaxy, but that they were crafted so precisely and hung with such efficiency that it only took three men on each door to push them open from the inside. Beautifully handcrafted from the silvery metal known as ¡°Dalumin¡±, the panels on the doors displayed scenes from the history of the Galactic Empire.


    Zara didn¡¯t have time to examine them as the hoverbarges passed through the gates, however. Her gaze was drawn instead to the impressive lines of Forbidden City Korkudai, all in their black uniforms with purple sashes and silver cording. Each one carried two swords, one at their hip, and a longer one on their back. Though they alone could carry firearms within the Forbidden City, they only rarely did so, usually only when the danger had been confirmed, and the Commandant signed off on it.


    ¡°There¡¯s so many of them,¡± Zara murmured to Tython.


    ¡°Yes. Hostage Concubines are considered dangerous enough to warrant the full force of the Forbidden City Korkudai to be stationed at the ready.¡±


    Zara couldn¡¯t fathom any of the Hostage Concubines wanting to take their chances with causing trouble. Any who were caught would be tortured and killed. Their families would be tortured and killed. And their entire home planet could possibly be destroyed if the Emperor commanded it. Of course, sometimes there was leniency. Sometimes the Emperor would only demand one in ten of the populace killed, and a new Hostage Concubine sent. It really just depended on the situation.


    The procession wove through pavilions and courtyards, down wide lanes of cobblestone between fantastic old buildings with peaked roofs and wood-carved walls lovingly painted by the greatest artists in the galaxy. Zara lost track of the number of reflecting pools, fountains, gazebos, canals, and archways they passed. Her mind became a blur of marble statues and sculpted trees, wrought iron gates, and fancy lamp posts. The enormous Outer Court housed not only a number of the mid-ranked Concubines, but also artisans and officials who tended to the Royal Family. Despite this, not a soul appeared to be out and about. No children played. Every inch of the Outer Court looked as if it had been scrubbed and polished, so clean that Zara¡¯s mind rejected it as Outside of Reality. It reminded Zara of the ancient video games her cousins used to play, the graphics never quite high enough to permit the true texture of age and grime. But no, this was real. This was the perfection of the Forbidden City.


    It took the Adjudicants an hour to arrange all the Hostage Concubines where they¡¯d sit during the ceremony, and an additional hour and a half for a rehearsal. Eventually, Zara found herself sitting on a satin pillow, one in a row of twenty similarly dressed Concubines, in an enormous open courtyard surrounded by raised daises for the attendees. Somehow, Tython had contrived for them to sit near to each other, but Zara wasn¡¯t certain how he¡¯d managed it. As far as she knew, you couldn¡¯t bribe the Adjudicants. They didn¡¯t have the same desires as people and were seen as highly incorruptible. She made a mental note to ask him later.


    If the Outer Court had been beautiful during daylight, when the sun finally set, the entire place took on a whole new incredible aura. The dome rippled with waves of purples, blues, and greens projected from below, the ribbons of color creating a mesmerizing aurora. Many of the larger walls made from steelmarble displayed projections as well, mostly of Leonara trees or petals blowing in the wind, but occasionally showing portraits of the Royal Family, especially the Empress Dowager as a young woman. Music accompanied the show and provided an opening interlude for those who would sit and watch the performance to enter and get seated. Tython pointed out the important ones as they arrived, though at such a distance, Zara couldn¡¯t make out many of their features.


    ¡°See the areas on the right and left? Those are for the Noble Ministers. You should know the main ones. Duke Kaison is the High Minister of Trade. Duke Alminetra is the High Minister of War. Duchess Wyrth is the High Minister of Law. And that empty seat is for Duchess Charon, High Minister of Advancement.¡±


    ¡°Advancement?¡± Zara glanced at Tython, but tried not to move her head too much. They had been instructed to look straight forward and remain still.


    ¡°Sciences and technology. Education. And also, most believe, propaganda. Duchess Charon controls the core-net.¡±


    Zara couldn¡¯t make out much about the various ministers, other than that they wore elaborate robes and complicated hats with long veils. In her reading about Viverides, she¡¯d learned that many politicians covered their faces here. They claimed that they wished for their voices and words, rather than outward appearance, to speak for them. But, most believed they actually wanted to hide their microexpressions from those with augments designed to read lies.


    ¡°Look there. The Dowager Empress.¡±


    The mother of the Emperor commanded great respect across the galaxy. Everyone knew her to be one of the major powers behind the throne. Rumors abounded that because, in her youth, she had been celebrated as the greatest beauty in the galaxy, and she now went to extraordinary lengths to maintain her looks. At this distance, Zara couldn¡¯t make out her face distinctly, but tell that she had puffiness under her eyes and a few wrinkles around her lips. Her body showed the slight rounding of age and rich foods, but her magnificent seamstresses accentuated every inch of it with a sumptuous dress in cerulean blue. Zara did wonder how she walked so gracefully with such an incredibly tall wig, however. Behind her entered two women. Zara had expected them to be the twin princesses, the younger sisters of the Emperor. But, the two looked as unalike as night and day. The first was a waifish pink-skinned beauty who seemed like she¡¯d blow away in a breeze. Behind her, with confidence and power, strode a woman who must have been nearing seven feet tall. She wore a modified Korkudai outfit with elaborate silver pauldrons and knee-high black boots. Her dark skin, brown as aloewood, glowed with the health of someone in peak physical condition. Zara found her vaguely intimidating.


    ¡°That¡¯s Princess Narisa,¡± Tython explained, ¡°And her wife, Commandant Moira Reyphine.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the other princess?¡± Zara asked.


    Tython didn¡¯t immediately reply. And because he didn¡¯t, Zara blinked and then turned her head to look at him. One of the Adjudicants watching the group made a hissing noise at Zara, but before she could turn her head back in the proper direction, Tython mouthed, ¡°Don¡¯t ask.¡±


    Next came Prince Senthir. He looked slightly different to Zara than he had when she¡¯d met him, but only because he wasn¡¯t wearing riding clothes and someone had forced his wild black hair into a ponytail. She couldn¡¯t gauge his expression from where she sat, but she imagined he looked as melancholy as he had the day she¡¯d met him. Well, before he¡¯d laughed at her for awkwardly carrying a wheel of cheese anyway.


    Tython continued telling Zara of others who entered. Ministers. Royal aunts, uncles and cousins and in-laws, ladies and lords, counts and countesses, and titled folk from dozens of important planets. She knew she wouldn¡¯t be able to identify all of them the following year.


    Finally, the trumpets blew, and drums beat, and two high-ranked Consorts moved through the aisle, tossing Leonara petals. The Emperor followed in their wake, surrounded by a dozen Korkudai. Zara did her best to get a good look at him from as far back as she was. She could tell he didn¡¯t look as gangly as he had in Lady Kessandra¡¯s wedding portrait. He¡¯d filled out, with his jaw growing stronger and his body far more muscular. His hair looked familiar, too. The style was similar to Lord Astor¡¯s, though rather than blond, the Emperor¡¯s shiny black hair took on tones of the dome above as it cycled through its aurora color scheme.


    Zara tried to examine her feelings about the man she could now see, a tiny figure so far away from her that she couldn¡¯t make out many details. Perhaps this would be the only time this year she¡¯d lay eyes on him, a man to whom she had dedicated her life, a man who now all but owned her like property. She tried to have dutiful thoughts, to think of her family¡¯s welfare and how she should venerate this man for their sake. But, she couldn¡¯t find it in herself to be as devoted and reverential as she would have liked. As much as she tried to cast emotion aside and settle into her fate, something in her mind railed against this situation. Would her life be nothing more than a series of moments like this? Moments where she¡¯d be one in a sea of similarly dressed Hostage Concubines, nothing but another pinprick of color dancing through the bored vision of a man who commanded the galaxy? Zara briefly considered falling during the dance on purpose. At least then, the Emperor would have to see her, even if he laughed, or showed her scorn, at least then he¡¯d have to confront her presence in some sort of personal manner. She didn¡¯t want his love. She just wanted to be something other than a number.


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    Zara zoned out during the speeches. She tried to pay attention, at least for a little while, but these things were always the same. Before the war, she¡¯d sat through numerous diplomatic functions at the behest of her parents. Everyone always said the exact same things. ¡°We should work towards prosperity. The future is bright. Everyone here will give their utmost to bring about change that will benefit generations to come. Those who have been involved are pinnacles of generosity and wisdom.¡± After you heard the same thing enough times, it just became airy filler, like eating cotton candy labeled ¡®steak¡¯. It didn¡¯t help that the speaker system had been placed in such a way that the words reverberated in the courtyard, making them difficult to understand. The only thing Zara managed to hear and found interesting was that, for her birthday, the Emperor had given his mother one of the ocean moons of Uskrar, where he planned to terraform a series of islands for her to have as an offworld beach resort.


    Eventually, the program moved into the dance section. The opening dance showcased a singular dancer, striking in her grace, who did not whirl, or gyrate, or leap. Instead, she moved excessively slowly, occasionally stopping in elegant poses with her arms or hands angled with such precision that she looked like a painting. She wore a white dress with a high collar and a lengthy train embroidered with a scene of a black peacock among a garden of blue Leonara branches. Most striking were her fingernails. At this distance, Zara couldn¡¯t tell if they were only temporarily affixed to her hands for the dance or if she¡¯d had augments to successfully grow them to that length. Each one appeared to be at least four inches. Both the nails and her hands, had dazzling little lights affixed to them, which would change colors or pulse in time with the slow music. Zara felt both enchanted and daunted. How could she ever hope to dance with even a fraction of the grandeur and sophistication of this woman?


    ¡°That¡¯s the Supreme Imperial Consort,¡± Tython whispered. Zara glanced again at the woman, now understanding her to be the highest-ranked of all the Consorts and Concubines kept by the Emperor. ¡°They call her Princess Aiya. Very little is known about her.¡±


    Princess Aiya didn¡¯t take her place among the other high-ranked harem members but instead disappeared completely after her dance. Zara assumed she¡¯d have to change out of the elaborate dance outfit before rejoining the Emperor.


    The other performances were lovely, but none could compare to that of Princess Aiya. Zara wondered if she¡¯d been chosen singularly for her beauty and grace, or if other factors influenced the Emperor¡¯s decision to take her as his primary consort. Her musings drew her away from paying attention to the proceedings, and soon she found that everyone in her group was rising to head to the stage to perform.


    Anxiety flooded her, so much so that she took a tiny stumble while heading to the stage. Thankfully, she managed to right herself before ending up face down on the ground. The brisk night air was a blessing, cooling her heated skin. If it had been warmer, Zara knew she¡¯d be slick with sweat, and that her makeup would be running down her face.


    Afterward, Zara would have little recollection of performing the dance. Her only memory would be the thrumming of her blood, the pounding of her heart. But, she knew she didn¡¯t fall. She may have made mistakes, but none of them were so egregious that they¡¯d be remembered by onlookers. A hand three inches too high. A foot movement not quite in sync with the others. A whirl that ended a half-beat too soon. Mistakes were made, but she didn¡¯t fall on her face. And, thankfully, as far as she could tell, most of the onlookers at the raised tables had, by this time, become engaged in conversation. Even the Emperor spent most of the time speaking quietly with Commandant Reyphine.


    As she marched back to her seat, Zara¡¯s relief at the dance being completed bolstered her mood. Even the disappointed face of Lady Astrid, giving her a pointedly sour look as she passed, couldn¡¯t diminish her feeling of accomplishment. She¡¯d managed not to make too much of a spectacle of herself.


    Now she just needed to make it a few more hours, through the feast, and she could go home and rest.


    -*-*-*-*-


    The feast, Tython informed her, was one of the few events of the year where an unknown Hostage Concubine might make connections that could, eventually, raise their status. The concubines were seated at round tables, twelve to a table, with a further three seats reserved for important guests. For each new course, the VIPs would switch to the next table down, rotating them through the company of a great many of the Hostage Concubines. Savvy concubines had tucked away a number of calling cards to give out to those they wished to make connections with outside the festival later. But, Zara hadn¡¯t known to do so. Astrid had cleverly left that detail out, and Edi had never mentioned it. She nervously hoped that no one asked for her card.


    Zara found herself at a table with a bunch of concubines from all over Ebonrue, many from far beyond Ward 43. Although a few gave off a chilly air, likely influenced by Astrid, others were pleasant enough, and one, a freckle-faced woman named Madame Lisette, even gave Zara her card in the hopes of learning some sewing techniques from her. Another, Lady Vivenne, invited Zara to a book club. However, when Lady Vivienne asked for Zara¡¯s calling card and found she hadn¡¯t brought any, several of the other concubines at the table snickered behind their hands. Thankfully, Lady Vivienne gave Zara her card, instead.


    Feeling pleased that she might be finally making some more friends, Zara turned her attention to the food. Each plate or bowl brought out by the hundreds of Forbidden City servants contained only a few bites of food. Most of it, Zara didn¡¯t recognize. She¡¯d never really eaten offworld food, and at home Trisla always made the same dishes she¡¯d made in the bunker. A few times, as children, Zara and her sister had tried to make offworld dishes from recipes on the core-net, to the delight of absolutely none of the servants cleaning up after them. When she thought about it now, and all the wasted food and effort by the servants, Zara felt more than a little ashamed of her behavior.


    Ankalian food was simple and hardy. Before the drought and war, they¡¯d had an abundance of food, like roasted pears and thrice-spiced goat, cherbber pie, and fermented eel. During the war, meals had become simpler. Hardy breads and spreadable canned meats. Trisla made an incredible onion soup that warmed a person to their very soul. And Xaz had shown them how to eat wild honeycane harvested from the banks of the nearby river.


    Zara not only didn¡¯t recognize the food set before her, but she also had no idea how it was even supposed to be eaten. She couldn¡¯t look to Tython for advice, as he¡¯d been placed at a different table, across the dining courtyard. The first item set before her was a bowl of cream-colored liquid with faint black specks. She assumed it to be a soup, and had, without a thought, picked up a soup spoon. The woman sitting next to her, a Countess Kthekra, laughed deeply, her whole bosom jiggling from the hysterics.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you know how to eat whipped osolsta? Goodness, they must be conquering some truly backwater worlds these days.¡± The woman clicked her tongue and then took two fingers pressed together, daintily dipping them to the first knuckle into her soup. When she pulled them out, the liquid congealed on her fingertips began to turn a faint blue color. ¡°It has to be the temperature of your specific skin, otherwise it won¡¯t be at peak flavor for your tongue. Everyone knows that.¡± Zara watched, shocked, as the woman began to lick her fingers.


    Was Ankali really considered so backward? Zara¡¯s cheeks reddened with the embarrassment of her situation. So many of the Concubines intimidated her with their sophistication and skill. They knew the etiquette, food, fashion, and culture of dozens, if not hundreds, of worlds. They understood the intricacies of politics. They spoke multiple languages. They could hold conversations about important celebrities, games, films, books, and music. They had wit and subtlety.


    Back on Ankali, both Zara and her sister Thalia, had been considered proper ladies with impeccable etiquette. Even during the war, when priorities shifted, she¡¯d heard servants whisper about what fine manners they had, how refined they were, how they should be commended for their charitable actions and sacrifices¡­ Zara had taken great pride in thinking herself ladylike. But here, Zara felt like a pig among the roses. She began to believe that maybe Astrid had a point.


    Several courses into the meal, Zara found herself becoming slightly forlorn. She let the buzz of the conversation wash over her and made certain to watch the other concubines before eating anything placed in front of her. Without realizing it, she¡¯d been staring at the newest course somewhat absently, not really paying attention to anything but her own sudden self-pity.


    ¡°You don¡¯t like flanha eggs?¡± a familiar voice asked from right beside Zara.


    She looked up suddenly, her heart beating fast both because she¡¯d been caught zoning out and because she hadn¡¯t even noticed when Prince Senthir sat down next to her.


    ¡°I love flanha eggs!¡± Countess Kthekra said, putting a hand on Prince Senthir¡¯s arm to try to redirect his attention her way. Several of the other concubines had stopped eating and watched the interaction with jealousy, all hoping to find a way to get Prince Senthir¡¯s attention, except, Zara noticed, for Lady Vivenne. She had her nose in a book despite the Adjudicants having been quite clear that the concubines could bring nothing but themselves into the Forbidden City. Countess Kthekra continued attempting to charm Prince Senthir, ¡°My cook makes incredible flanha eggs. She uses purple truffle from Corbanos-3.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you,¡± Senthir replied crisply, shifting his arm so that the Countess¡¯ hand fell away. His demeanor had turned from melancholy to steel in an instant. The festive atmosphere at the table soured immediately, with many of the concubines who had been making eyes towards Senthir now pretending to mind their own business. Nobody wanted to be snapped at by the Emperor¡¯s brother. Or worse.


    Prince Senthir¡¯s attention went back to Zara, and because she hadn¡¯t replied yet, he prompted her with a slightly annoyed, ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ I¡¯ve never had one, your Highness. I¡¯m not sure if I need to peel it, or¡­¡±


    The servants had put a little metal implement beside the plate, something that looked like tongs in miniature, and Zara assumed she needed to use it in order to eat the flanha egg. But, that didn¡¯t answer the question of whether she needed to crack and peel the egg, or¡­


    ¡°Open your mouth.¡±


    Zara hesitated. Even though protesting a command by the royal family could bring devastating consequences, he¡¯d said it so abruptly that she froze. Did he really mean to¡­? In front of all of these people? ¡°I¡¯m not sure that it would be¡­¡±


    ¡°Open your mouth, or I¡¯ll have it opened by force,¡± came the impatient, though somewhat amused reply.


    The unnecessary threat immediately put Zara on guard. She opened her mouth as commanded, and tried not to look as irritated about it as she felt.


    Prince Senthir picked up the flanha egg from his own dish by gingerly pinching it between his finger and thumb. ¡°You can use the tongs, but it¡¯s complicated. This way is easier. Don¡¯t chew. Just let it dissolve.¡±


    Zara felt the warmth of Senthir¡¯s fingers juxtaposed with the cool egg as both pressed carefully into her mouth. Everyone at the table stared as he deposited the egg carefully on her tongue and then swiftly withdrew his hand. Afterward, she felt the brush of something warm under her chin. Fingers. Senthir slowly pressed her mouth closed. Just for the briefest moment, Zara thought he might slide the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. It hovered near the corner of her mouth due to the positioning of his hand. But, that hand retreated swiftly, not overstaying propriety any more than it already had.


    First, Zara felt a tingle on her tongue akin to the faint bubbles of carbonation. Something on the outer skin of the flanha egg was dissolving. Then, suddenly, the entire structure of the egg collapsed, spilling out flavorful liquid into her mouth. Shocked by the sudden flood, she grabbed at her napkin and pressed it to her mouth, worried that some of it might spill from her lips. The divine flavor coated her tongue, tasting of sweet cream, cinnamon, truffle, and caramel. All of this mixed with the outer ¡®shell¡¯ of the egg, which continued to bubble and dissolve, infusing an airyness into the concoction.


    ¡°It¡¯s good, is it not?¡± Prince Senthir asked, a victorious grin barely touching his lips.


    Zara nodded, unable to speak with her mouth full. She had to swallow twice to get it all down. ¡°It¡¯s incredible. How do they make¡­?¡±


    She would have been able to finish her question if at that moment a bomb hadn¡¯t gone off in the feast courtyard.

 Chapter 8 - An Explosion in the Palace

    <h3 style="text-align: center">Chapter 8 - An Explosion in the Palace


    Zara felt the scorch of heat as the world became a confusing mass of noise, smoke, and movement. She found herself no longer at the table, but on the ground, her ears ringing and her right side in aching pain. She tried to use her hand to push herself into a sitting position, only to hiss at the realization that the skin on her palm had been sandpapered raw by the courtyard concrete.


    ¡°Don¡¯t. Stay down. Wait for the Korkudai to handle it.¡± Prince Senthir¡¯s voice was raspy, but certain. He said something else, but she couldn¡¯t make it out. He¡¯d ended up in a crouch next to her, and there was blood running down his face.


    Zara tried to gauge where she¡¯d ended up. Everything was a jumble. Smoke clouded the courtyard, making it difficult to see what was happening. The screaming and weeping of hundreds of Concubines made it difficult to discern if the bomb had been a singular attack, or if additional danger persisted. And she knew it to be a bomb, or at least an incendiary device of some kind. You didn¡¯t spend ten years being bombed by the Galactic Empire to forget the smell, the sound, the confusion of it.


    ¡°No. We should find cover,¡± she called, her voice¡¯s pitch not modulating well due to the ringing in her ears. Zara had no idea if he heard her. ¡°If there¡¯s another blast¡­¡±


    Senthir¡¯s eyebrows drew downward at the thought as he looked around. He pointed to a nearby garden box. The Leonara tree there had a thick trunk, and there were several stone benches that could possibly provide some cover should anything else happen. She could see Madame Lisette¡¯s red hair peeking over the top of one of the benches. They weren¡¯t the only ones with the idea to find cover.


    ¡°Help¡­¡±


    The faint voice caught Senthir¡¯s attention first, causing his head to swivel in that direction. ¡°Narisa!¡± His half-sister lay nearby, her arm punctured by several pieces of shattered porcelain, and her leg twisted grotesquely. Turning back to Zara, he yelled. ¡°Go. I¡¯ll grab Narisa.¡±


    She nodded, believing the Prince more than capable of carrying the tiny slender woman she¡¯d seen earlier. Zara darted through the smoke and ended up in the grass next to both Madame Lisette and Lady Vivienne. ¡°Are you both alright?¡±


    Vivienne looked to be bleeding fairly heavily from one eye. Zara assumed the glass in her spectacles had burst She immediately tore the sleeve from her dress and wrapped it around Vivienne¡¯s head. ¡°I know it hurts, but try to keep pressure on the eye.¡± Then she said to them both, ¡°If you smell something that burns your nose, use your sleeve to breathe through.¡± It wouldn¡¯t completely prevent them from getting burned by conchem, but would give them a few more seconds to try to flee to somewhere better ventilated. Madame Lisette looked too terrified to respond verbally, but after a moment of shock, she managed to nod.


    Prince Senthir joined them and placed Princess Narisa on the soft grass. She looked to be in a poor state, losing blood from both her punctured arm and her leg. Zara immediately crawled in that direction to take a better look, gritting her teeth whenever her hand made contact with the ground. She¡¯d helped the medical staff during the war often, fetching supplies when she was younger, and in recent years with more complicated tasks such as prepping tools, taking temperatures, changing bandages, or even holding someone down during the setting of a bone. War didn¡¯t care if you had a medical degree, every hand was needed, and she¡¯d learned a lot, especially from the triage nurses.


    ¡°Your coat has a silk lining, doesn¡¯t it?¡± she asked Senthir.


    He nodded.


    ¡°Rip it out.¡± Zara figured it¡¯d be the cleanest and strongest option they had available. She couldn¡¯t imagine the Forbidden City servants would give Senthir anything but a perfectly clean coat for the event. ¡°Her arm is bad, but her leg is worse. Leave the porcelain pieces in, but elevate her arm above her heart. Keep it still. I¡¯ll wrap the leg.¡± If only she had a needle, thread, and some alcohol she might have been able to make a few haphazard stitches the doctors could cut open later. For now, she¡¯d have to rely on pressure. When Senthir handed her the lining from his coat, she nodded and immediately scooted over to get in a position where she could tend to Narisa¡¯s leg. The woman had turned ashen from blood loss and fallen unconscious as Senthir moved her, but for the moment, Zara was glad. Narisa wouldn¡¯t feel the pain. She used all of her strength to yank the leg straight and push the bone into a better position before binding Narisa¡¯s leg with Senthir¡¯s coat lining.


    By this time, several of the Concubines and guests had started to stand up. Senthir yelled at them to stay down, and while a few obeyed him, others looked dazed, unable to understand why they should remain low if the bomb had already gone off. The Korkudai began to filter in from a northern corridor. Some repeated the command for the concubines to stay down and, additionally, to keep their hands visible, while others moved through the area, assessing the situation and looking for further threats. At that moment, a second explosion shook the courtyard, but this one was much further away than the prior one had been, near the corridor where the Korkudai had emerged.


    The distance and the stone bulwark created by the benches made it easier for the group to weather the second explosion without additional injury. Zara¡¯s concern grew. It shouldn¡¯t have been possible for anyone to bring an explosive device into the Outer Court. They¡¯d been checked extensively by the Adjudicants on the way in, scanned for any potentially hazardous items. Was this some sort of coordinated attack on the entirety of Viverides? With the security levels of the palace planet, it didn¡¯t seem likely. Any large attack force would have been obliterated by the battleships in constant orbit around Viverides.


    Zara tried to put her anxiety and confusion out of her mind and, instead, focused once again on the injured. Princess Narisa remained unconscious, with Madame Lisette holding her arm still as requested. Lady Vivienne appeared to be taking slow, deep breaths to fight her pain but hadn¡¯t lost so much color that Zara worried she¡¯d be in immediate danger. That left Prince Senthir. Zara scooted closer to him and murmured, ¡°Your face is bloody. Let me take a look?¡±


    Prince Senthir appeared surprised, as if he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d also been injured. He brought his fingertips to his cheek, and when they came away bloody, he just stared. ¡°I don¡¯t feel any pain.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not uncommon,¡± Zara murmured. She dabbed at his cheek with her remaining sleeve, trying to find the source of the blood.


    The second bomb had re-ignited the screaming and pleas and filled the courtyard with even more smoke. Zara could no longer see far in that direction, but she heard the Korkudai shouting orders, so she knew they must still be there, even if some of them had been taken out by the blast.


    ¡°You have a cut on your brow here. It¡¯s deep enough to need stitches, but you should be fine, provided we get out of here fairly soon.¡±


    ¡°Hm. You have a relatively calm demeanor for someone trapped in the middle of a terrorist situation,¡± Senthir observed, his surprise apparent. ¡°You spend a lot of time in similar trouble?¡±


    ¡°No, just ten years getting shelled by the Galactic Empire¡¯s forces.¡± Zara realized she¡¯d said it a bit sourly, and considering the man she¡¯d said it to was the Emperor¡¯s brother, she probably should have held her tongue. ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t mean for that to come out as sharply as I said it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. You shouldn¡¯t apologize for the truth.¡± Senthir produced a handkerchief from one of the pockets of his fine coat, and pressed it to the wound Zara had indicated. With his free hand, he stroked Princess Narisa¡¯s cheek. ¡°I hope she¡¯ll be okay. I don¡¯t think the Emperor would easily weather losing Narisa, after what happened to Clarisa.¡±


    Zara raised an eyebrow. Tython had mentioned something about that. ¡°What happened to her?¡±


    ¡°Kidnapped,¡± Senthir said, voice full of both sorrow and anger. ¡°The Spiral Alliance took her. Whenever the Emperor considers attacking them, they send him a video of her to remind him of their hostage.¡±


    ¡°How cruel!¡±


    ¡°You would know. You are in the same position, are you not?¡±


    ¡°No, I mean¡­¡± Zara meant to say more, but then just closed her mouth. There was definitely a difference between being a willing hostage, and being an unwilling one. At the same time, she could see Prince Senthir¡¯s point.


    Fairly quickly after that, the Korkudai got control of the situation enough for scores of Adjudicants and medical staff to enter the area. Princess Narisa was one of the first people removed from the scene, and Senthir decided to accompany her. The critically wounded and dead were hauled off by the Adjudicants to an undisclosed location within the Outer Court, while less intensely wounded guests and concubines found themselves hauled onto hoverbarges and taken out of the gates to a cleared section of the War Garden. This area, soon covered in large white pavilion tents to serve as clinics, dormitories, and dining halls, defied attempts at calm organization by the Adjudicants and other palace officials. Some guests and concubines demanded loudly to be allowed to return home, whilst others promoted paranoia and hysteria by spreading gossip and accusations. Zara heard no end of conspiracy theories, even that the Emperor himself had planned the bombing simply because he wanted a fresh batch of concubines. She didn¡¯t have the heart to remind the lady spreading the rumor that the Emperor didn¡¯t need a bomb to have them all to be replaced.


    That evening, all of the concubines slept on cots in their dance dresses. Zara had seen cots like this before - they had them in abundance in the underground clinic near the bunker. Not particularly comfortable, but it did beat sleeping on the ground. Her hand, bandaged earlier in the evening by a medical attendant, didn¡¯t require any stitches but did burn and throb where the skin had been abraded by her fall. A few other small cuts required nothing but the touch of a cheap mendmachine to knit them closed.


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    The next morning, a gold Adjudicant read a statement to those in the War Garden. Eighteen concubines and seven guests had died in the blast. For the safety of the Royal Family and the Empire, the bombing would not be reported to the news media, as they didn¡¯t wish to encourage copycats to attempt anything similar. Therefore, all those present would need to sign a privacy document swearing to secrecy on the matter. This requirement caused a great deal of discontent among those present, and several of the guests began a loud argument with the gold Adjudicant, claiming they had every right to speak freely about the events that endangered their lives. The loudest ones were hauled off by the Korkudai, likely to have their opinions changed by force.


    Zara tried to find everyone she knew, to make sure they¡¯d made it through. She even checked on Lady Astrid, who escaped the bombing mostly unharmed other than having a large portion of her hair on the left side burnt away. Zara tried to take her complaints about it seriously, and not slide into raucous laughter.


    But, she couldn¡¯t find Tython anywhere. He¡¯d been sitting incredibly close to the area where the bomb had gone off, and Zara worried that he might have been one of the critically wounded. She didn¡¯t want to consider that he might be among the dead. Nobody she spoke with could give her any information about his condition, and one gold Adjudicant even demanded her name and designation after she asked about Tython.


    That afternoon, a number of armored shuttlecraft landed near the War Garden¡¯s impromptu camp. The Korkudai who disembarked carried guns and laser pistols, as well as riot shields made from a dark material Zara couldn¡¯t identify. Their commander announced that everyone present would be questioned before being released, and proceeded to read off a list of names for the first group slated for interrogation. Zara¡¯s name was the third one read off by the Korkudai.


    Being so high on the list of people to be questioned, she knew, did not bode well.


    -*-*-*-*-


    Although the House Kalimat bunker contained only the leaders of Ankali, their close relatives, and a number of servants, it was connected to a whole labyrinth of underground stations across the capital city of Ankorna. Her family was subjected to frequent lockdowns, where they couldn¡¯t move around for weeks or months due to security threats. But, when they could, Zara had explored the labyrinth of bunkers extensively. The nearby clinic readily accepted her help whenever available, and she often worked in the clothing warehouse as well. Her elder sister, Thalia, was an incredible speaker and had a wonderfully enthusiastic voice. Thalia spent most of her time working for the resistance radio station and had become a darling of the Ankalians for her cheerful personality and her nightly bedtime stories for children. Together, they occasionally explored off-limits parts of the underground complex, with Thalia never letting her blindness hold her back from adventure.


    On those adventures, the pair occasionally found mysterious rooms that smelled of sweat, blood, and bleach. Some of them contained a single chair, and nothing else. Others were decidedly more sinister, containing items that didn¡¯t bode well for the previous occupants. At first, Zara had thought the power tools and electrical wire just meant someone was doing some maintenance in that area. A tray of dental tools on an otherwise empty counter just meant that someone needed emergency dental work during a war. It wasn¡¯t like you could make an appointment with a dentist, after all.


    It took Thalia explaining it to her before Zara understood the true meaning of these rooms. After that, they attempted to avoid areas they thought might be off-limits for more sinister reasons. But, Zara thought about those rooms often and wondered if her parents had sanctioned such cruelties to the enemy, or if they occurred simply as a byproduct of any war. Either way, Zara hoped to never see such a room again.


    Unfortunately, she now found herself in a similar place. The room had that same scent, the sourness of bodily fluids mixed with the acridity of high-powered cleaning agents. And, even though she couldn¡¯t make out any implements of torture within the room, Zara assumed that they¡¯d be kept nearby. Instead, the windowless room contained one chair for the person being interrogated, a metal table with more than a few dents in the top, and several additional chairs on the opposing side of the table. It also contained a robot, one that Zara knew would record the proceedings, and might even shoot a tranq dart at her if she became too rowdy. She had no intention of becoming disorderly, but¡­ She also knew that the last day, as well as the bombing, had frayed her patience and loosened her tongue.


    Commandant Moira Reyphine sat in the chair directly across from Zara. She¡¯d changed out of her fancy uniform and now wore one more suited to daily use. It did not make her appear any less intimidating, in Zara¡¯s estimation. The displeased look on her face was understandable considering what happened to her wife. Zara wanted to ask about Princess Narisa, but supposed it might not be the right time for small talk. Instead, she quietly watched the Commandant. The woman had high, arching eyebrows and some of the most perfect skin Zara had ever seen. She also had the sort of face which, at rest, looked like she was contemplating the best way to kill you and secretly dispose of your body.


    The other person in the room was more of an unknown. Although he was one of the Noble Ministers, Zara couldn¡¯t figure out which one he might be. She wasn¡¯t even completely sure it was a man. The voluminous robes of their office made chest size difficult to discern, and the veiled hat covered the entirety of their face.


    Two extremely important people. Zara couldn¡¯t imagine that these two in particular intended to interview all of the hundreds of concubines and guests. So, she assumed they must just be interviewing the ones of particular interest. Why would she be of particular interest? Was it just because she was one of the newest concubines? Or was there another reason?


    ¡°You are Lady Zarathenia of House Kalimat, second in line to the throne of the planet Ankali, designated Hostage Concubine Nine Hundred and Ninety Nine?¡± Commandant Reyphine asked as she read from an intellipad that must have had information about Zara on it.


    ¡°Yes. Well, no. Um¡­¡± Zara winced. This was off to a bad start. ¡°We don¡¯t actually have a throne. It¡¯s¡­not that kind of planet.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a problem with thrones?¡± Commandant Reyphine asked, looking up from the intellipad.


    ¡°No. I¡­ I just¡­¡± Zara could feel her nerves affecting her ability to think straight. Would they torture her? If they did torture her, what would it be? Electricity? Blades? Impromptu dentistry? ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m just nervous.¡±


    ¡°Why are you nervous? Do you have something to hide?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m nervous because you¡¯re very intimidating. This room is intimidating. This situation is, on the whole, intimidating. I don¡¯t have anything to hide, but I¡¯m pretty sure you torture people in here, so that¡¯s exceptionally nerve-wracking.¡±


    Commandant Reyphine tilted her head slightly and didn¡¯t dispute the assertion. ¡°Fair enough.¡± Looking back down, she continued to scroll through the intellipad, occasionally making noises such as ¡®hm¡¯ or ¡®ah¡¯. Once or twice, she even grunted slightly. After a good three minutes of this, she asked, ¡°How do you know the Hostage Concubine known as Tython?¡±


    ¡°Tython?¡± Zara leaned forward, ¡°Is he alright? Nobody will tell me what happened to him.¡±


    ¡°Just answer the question.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really know him. We met when the concubines were boarding the hoverbarge to head into the Forbidden City. I mended his pants for him. They were far too long.¡±


    Commandant Reyphine eyed Zara in a way that bordered on incredulous. ¡°That didn¡¯t strike you as strange? That his pants were made for someone much taller than him?¡±


    Zara leaned back and blinked repeatedly. Should she have thought something amiss when she found that Tython¡¯s pants didn¡¯t fit him? ¡°No, because I had to perform some small alterations on my own dress, I just assumed¡­¡± But, her dress wasn¡¯t fundamentally the wrong size for her. She¡¯d simply made it fit a little better. The Adjudicants had her measurements, so if they¡¯d sent her such a completely ill-fitting dress, it¡¯d be strange. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t think about it. At the time, it just seemed like an oversight.¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡± Commandant Reyphine continued her questioning. ¡°He appeared to stick close to you during the ride to the Outer Court, and even within the dance courtyard. Do you know how he managed to change seats in order to sit next to you? Or why?¡±


    Zara shook her head.


    ¡°Alright, how about this? Observers said you two spoke quite a bit during the trip and even during the dance. What did you speak about?¡±


    ¡°He mostly just¡­ It was my first time dancing at the Night Blossom Festival, so he explained what I was seeing. He told me about the War Garden, and pointed out the various important personages in attendance at the event.¡±


    Commandant Reyphine put her intellipad face-down on the table and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. ¡°And I suppose that didn¡¯t strike you as odd, either? That someone who has been a hostage concubine for just four years knew all these things?¡±


    Zara threw her hands in the air in exasperation, ¡°I thought someone else had perhaps done the same for him! That it was just information passed between concubines over time!¡±


    ¡°Combative.¡± The single word was pronounced by the Noble Minister in the corner, who Zara now assumed to be male, due to the deep voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­¡± Zara immediately closed her mouth. Loudly protesting that you¡¯re not combative, she knew, would likely be the quickest way to be deemed combative. She tried instead to change the topic. ¡°Was¡­ Was Tython involved in the bombing?¡±


    ¡°Yes. If by ¡®involved¡¯ one considers the bomb itself as being involved. The person you knew as ¡®Tython¡¯ exploded. He was one of two infiltrators who made it past all of our security checks.¡±


    Zara¡¯s shock had her bringing her hands to her mouth. She didn¡¯t want to believe such a thing to be true. ¡°But, how¡­?¡±


    Commandant Reyphine shook her head. ¡°We¡¯re not sure. New technology, perhaps. A merging of biotech and genetic manipulation. Something that can fool even the Adjudicants. What do you know about the Spiral Alliance?¡±


    ¡°Not much. They are fighting against the Galactic Empire?¡± She also knew that they¡¯d kidnapped the Emperor¡¯s sister, but she decided to leave that part out. ¡°Are they the ones who did this?¡±


    ¡°It seems likely.¡± Commandant Reyphine¡¯s dry voice rarely changed away from an irritated monotone. She struck Zara as the type of woman Zara¡¯s mother used to call, ¡®No nonsense¡¯. ¡°Look, I believe you. Mostly. I can¡¯t imagine an actual conspirator would be so obvious about their association with the enemy. However, I will need to keep you here another day or two, just in case we have any questions. In the meantime, I want you to write down every single thing you remember about this ¡®Tython¡¯. Every detail, no matter how small. You understand?¡±


    Zara nodded several times. She understood the gravity of the situation, and how anything but complete cooperation might make her look guilty.


    ¡°Good. Now I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not the only one who wants to question you. The Royal Physicians wish to have a word about your unlicensed practice of medicine following the bombing.¡±


    Zara opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Commandant Reyphine held up her hand.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Lady Zara. I¡¯ve seen to it that you won¡¯t be charged. After all, Princess Narisa survived due to your efforts. That doesn¡¯t mean you aren¡¯t about to sit through a rather lengthy berating by those who would have preferred to be the ones to save her.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so glad! I¡¯m so glad she¡¯s alright.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Commandant Reyphine murmured as she got to her feet, ¡°You should be. If anything had happened to the Princess¡­¡±


    She didn¡¯t finish the statement. She didn¡¯t need to. Zara knew exactly what she meant. If anything happened to Princess Narisa, if she¡¯d died due to Zara¡¯s botched attempts to save her, Zara¡¯s life would have been forfeit.

 Chapter 9: A Letter From Home

    Chapter 9: A Letter from Home


    Zara somehow survived two hours of questioning and berating from top palace medical officials.  She sensed that, as Commandant Reyphine mentioned, they didn¡¯t so much have a problem with her saving the life of Princess Narisa, as they did having not had a chance to save Princess Narisa themselves.  She came away from the experience exhausted and with a heightened understanding of the balance of power within the Forbidden City.  Everyone had their place, their job, their proper station, and any deviation would be corrected, by violence if necessary.


    The exhaustion served her well, in a way, because when they brought her to a solitary cell somewhere deep within the Korkudai headquarters complex, Zara immediately fell asleep on the cot.  Even the grime of not having bathed, and the hunger in her stomach, couldn¡¯t keep her awake.  She hadn¡¯t slept well the night before, in the open-air tent within the War Garden, surrounded by hundreds of people also unable to sleep.  The intensity of being brought by shuttlecraft to Korkudai headquarters, being interviewed by the Commandant, and then being yelled at by a number of doctors had taken all of her remaining energy.  She¡¯d already expended so much just to get through the dance itself.  But now, finally, in the quiet solitude of the stark white cell without any windows, Zara passed out.


    She woke to the sound of a key turning in the lock of the metal cell door.  Groaning, Zara forced herself to sit up, certain that little time had passed, and that they¡¯d be taking her for questioning again.  She felt sore everywhere.  The cots had no padding, and the bruises she¡¯d received during the bombing weren¡¯t insubstantial.  However, much to her surprise, the person at the door wasn¡¯t a Korkudai agent, but instead, Prince Senthir.


    ¡°May I?¡± he asked, motioning to a bench affixed to the wall, the only other piece of furniture in the cell besides the cot, toilet, and sink.


    Zara immediately nodded for him to have a seat.  He¡¯d cleaned up since the bombing, unlike Zara, and a small white bandage sat over his brow where he¡¯d been cut.


    ¡°Do you know how long I¡¯ll be kept?¡± she asked him, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that¡¯s not a proper greeting.  Please excuse my lack of propriety.  I¡¯ve become a bit frazzled and short.¡±  She tried to think of a more formal way to greet a Prince of his station, but couldn¡¯t.  Everything felt jumbled in her mind.  Before he could even respond, she asked yet another question.  ¡°How is Princess Narisa?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll live.  They say she¡¯ll have a limp in that leg for the rest of her life, though there¡¯s always the possibility of getting it replaced with an augment down the road.  Narisa is in good spirits about it, though.  She¡¯s planning a number of fashionable canes and walking sticks.  Her bright spirit is difficult to dampen.¡±


    Zara found herself wondering how someone like that could end up marrying someone like the Commandant.  But, she supposed they did always say that opposites attracted.


    ¡°She wanted to thank you personally,¡± Prince Senthir continued, ¡°But she¡¯s not allowed up and about yet, so she asked me to come.¡±


    ¡°Oh, how kind,¡± Zara replied.  She meant it, and yet, she also found herself slightly disappointed that Senthir hadn¡¯t come of his own accord.  ¡°Please tell her it was an honor to be of assistance.¡±


    ¡°I will.  Narisa asked me what kind of gift you¡¯d like in thanks.  I told her I didn¡¯t know anything about you, other than that you¡¯re excessively fond of cheese, so¡­  She¡¯ll be sending a ton of Imperial Grade cheese to your house, and¡­¡±


    Zara jumped to her feet and began gesticulating wildly.  ¡°What?  No!  That¡¯s not¡­  I don¡¯t like cheese, I don¡¯t have a weird cheese obsession.  Gods be good, the constant presence and effect of this stupid cheese is driving me to literal madness.  My house just happens to have cheese in the basement!  I didn¡¯t put it there!   Why would you tell her¡­something¡­like¡­?¡±  She realized belatedly that despite the fact that Senthir¡¯s face looked deadly serious, he was certainly joking.  The man had an exceptional poker face, and he often used his long dark hair to slightly hide his expression.


    ¡°You know, you can be quite amusingly animated at times.¡±


    Zara sat back down and brought both of her hands to her face.  She didn¡¯t know if she should be embarrassed at the Prince teasing her, or angry that he¡¯d do so at a time like this.  Feeling a little of both, she murmured from behind her hands, ¡°If it is not traitorous to say so, Your Highness, I think you might have a slight cruel streak within you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not traitorous.  And it¡¯s not slight.¡±  She heard him lean back against the wall.  ¡°Seriously though, she and I both owe you.  Is there anything you want?  Other than to get out of here, that is.  The Commandant will only allow that once she¡¯s certain you¡¯re not needed for any further questions.¡±


    Removing her hands from her face, she peered at Prince Senthir.  Despite the fact that he¡¯d been cleaned up, he leaned against the cell wall almost bonelessly, like someone in need of a structure to keep from falling over.  She wondered if he¡¯d even slept since the bombing.  ¡°There is something, yes.  My maid, Trisla, she¡¯s back at the Skyblade Palace in the Periphery.  I¡¯m certain she¡¯s incredibly confused as to why I haven¡¯t returned yet.  Could you get word to her that I¡¯m alright and will be returning soon?¡±


    Prince Senthir¡¯s eyebrows raised, and he looked like he was waiting for Zara to add something to that request.  She got the impression that she¡¯d asked for a mild favor when she¡¯d been expected to ask for something outlandish, like a massive ocean liner or one of the blue sand beaches of Treneska.  When no further requests were forthcoming, Senthir¡¯s eyebrows dropped and he said, ¡°Done.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±  Zara tried to pull her dirty dancing dress into a more respectable position.  One of her knees had become exposed through a tear in the fabric - a rather dirty, scraped-up knee.  She briefly felt heat to her cheeks, embarrassment less for showing off her leg to the Prince than for being unpresentable in general.  Prince Senthir very pointedly watched her attempt to hide her knee, so Zara tried to distract him with a change of subject.  ¡°I can¡¯t believe someone sent a bomb into the dance.  Well, I guess I can believe it.  Lots of people hate the Galactic Empire, and the Emperor in general, but¡­  He wasn¡¯t even at the feast.¡±  Most of the Royal Family had retreated to dine alone, too worried that they may be poisoned if they ate with the Hostage Concubines.  It was surprising that both Senthir and Narisa had not.


    ¡°Yes.  I don¡¯t think any particular person was a target.  The Spiral Alliance just wants us to know what they can do.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense.  Don¡¯t you have a better edge if your enemy doesn¡¯t know what you can do?¡±


    Prince Senthir tilted his head and made a hand motion towards Zara that indicated she had a point.  ¡°You¡¯re not wrong.  It¡¯s also possible that they were testing us.  Seeing what the reaction time of the Korkudai is, or what our procedures are following something of this nature.¡±


    ¡°So, you think there are more agents of the Spiral Alliance among the Hostage Concubines?  Someone who was watching and reporting back?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.  Maybe the Spiral Alliance wants to cause problems within the Galactic Empire.  If planets begin to believe that the Hostage Concubines they sent to Viverides can¡¯t be protected by the Emperor, it will cause unrest.  All of the Hostages are specifically chosen because they are beloved by their homeworlds.  That¡¯s a risky play, though.  It¡¯s just as likely that word will get out that the Spiral Alliance was behind the bombing and the planets affected will just intensify their allegiance to the crown.¡±


    Zara frowned.  Trying to figure out the motivations and actions of a far-off group of worlds proved a difficult task.  In the end, she supposed it didn¡¯t matter.  They¡¯d gone about things in a horrendous way, one she couldn¡¯t approve.  Was killing innocent people as part of your quest for freedom justified?  During the war, she hadn¡¯t needed to really consider such an ethical dilemma.  Ankali had been fighting for their freedom, but they¡¯d been fighting against a completely military force.   She wondered if she would have agreed with killing innocent civilians of the Galactic Empire in pursuit of the goal of keeping Ankali free.  Life was sacred, certainly.  But was freedom for entire worlds worth the horrific destruction of a few uninvolved bystanders?  If the alternative was the potential loss of an entire civilization¡¯s autonomy just to spare the lives of those few¡­ Zara hoped she¡¯d make the choice to save lives, but she couldn¡¯t say for certain.


    ¡°I guess we may never know, really,¡± Zara murmured.  It hurt her heart to consider the vast chasm of potential ruthlessness that might be deemed as justified by the righteous.  Such things couldn¡¯t be thought about long without falling into hollow gloom.  But, as she considered Prince Senthir, it began to dawn on her that his own melancholy might be the result of having to think about such things fairly often.  Princess Clarisa was his half-sister, after all, and Zara knew he must worry about her being in the clutches of the Spiral Alliance.  She tried to think of something, anything, that might cheer the poor man.  ¡°Well, at least I was able to try flanha eggs once before the memory was forever marred by insidious and lasting trauma.  I thank you for that, your Highness.¡±


    The observation turned out grimmer than Zara meant it to, but it appeared to be the kind of morbid humor that Prince Senthir enjoyed.  ¡°Well, it wouldn¡¯t be the first time that a woman¡¯s experience with me ruined her for all experiences afterward.¡±  He gave her his mischievous smile, and it took Zara several seconds too long to catch his meaning.  Thankfully, by the time the shock set it at his most uncouth meaning, he¡¯d already gotten to his feet and moved to the door.  ¡°I should go.  I¡¯ll come visit you next time I visit Lady Kessandra.  To check on you.¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Zara tried to thank him for coming, but he disappeared before she could wade through her fluster and spit out the words.


    -*-*-*-*-


    It took three more days before they sent Zara home, during which the Korkudai questioned her about every aspect of the past week.  They wanted to know about her life in excruciating detail, and even at one point interrogated her about the possibility of her sister, Thalia, being involved in creating bombs.  This particular line of questioning elicited from Zara an incredibly dry response of, ¡°Yes.  A lot of blind people find themselves making bombs.  It is, after all, the type of profession where ¡®just feeling around¡¯ for things is encouraged.¡±


    After that, they didn¡¯t ask any more questions about Thalia.


    Although she¡¯d slept well when she first arrived, subsequent attempts to get any sleep failed miserably.  The Korkudai never dimmed the lights in the cell, leaving Zara¡¯s body completely confused about the passage of time.  And although Zara, herself, didn¡¯t experience the torture she¡¯d dreaded, she heard terrible noises from cells not far from her own.  The screams and desperate pleas caused her to shiver, but worse were the sounds of impact that didn¡¯t elicit any noise at all, as if the person being struck no longer even had the strength to cry out.  Zara had no idea if those being tortured had anything to do with the bombing, or if these poor people had been disappeared by the Korkudai for other reasons.  It harrowed her, the sounds of power tools, the muffled garble of voices yelling questions she could never quite make out, and the constant surprise of metal doors slamming.  The stress of it, and the inability to sleep made her so nauseous that she couldn¡¯t eat more than a bite or two of the food the Korkudai gave her.  Zara found the experience to be far more upsetting than her time in the bunker.


    When she was finally released, the Korkudai told her that they would return her directly to Ebonrue, rather than to the Periphery.  She worried that this would strand Trisla at the Skyblade Palace.  However, when she inquired, the Korkudai informed her that all of the traveling companions of the Hostage Concubines had already been returned en masse to Ebonrue.


    Never had Zara considered how glad she could be to see Begonia House, in all it¡¯s unimpressive charm, as a hired pedicab drove her from the shuttle landing station into Ward 43.  Later, Zara would remember little about getting into the house, except that Rowan had haggled loudly with the pedicab driver and Xaz had scooped her up like a delicate bouquet of rapidly wilting flowers to carry her inside.  In addition, fuzzy memories would remain of Trisla helping her with a bath before she¡¯d finally collapse into her bed for some much-needed rest.


    Zara woke to Xaz dabbing a wet cloth on her face extremely carefully, so as to not scratch her with his claws.  He looked more serious and upset than she recalled him being in quite a long time.  ¡°Lady Inkblossom, you return from the nightlands¡­¡±


    ¡°Xaz,¡± Zara tried to sit up, though felt as if she¡¯d sunk so deeply into her bed she might never manage it.  In the end, Xaz assisted her into a more upright position.  ¡°How long was I asleep?¡±


    ¡°The stars came, and went, and are here once more,¡± he replied quietly.  Then his voice lowered, and Zara could tell that though he was trying to whisper and be comforting, some simmering rage tinted his next words with the rumble of a growl, ¡°Lady Inkblossom, who hurt you?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, what the fuck happened?¡±  The new voice came from Rowan, standing in the doorway, arms crossed.  ¡°Nobody would tell us shit.¡±


    ¡°Rowan, please¡­¡±  Zara lifted her hand to try to assuage the cursing.


    ¡°No no, don¡¯t ¡®Rowan please¡¯ me.  You were missing for five days. You¡¯ve got bruises all over you.  And you basically collapsed like a snowman in lava the moment you arrived home.  That¡¯s pretty fucking unusual for what was supposed to be a few hours at a dance.¡±


    Although Zara knew that the anger from both of them came from a place of protectiveness, she found it to be a lot to deal with after just waking up.  Nonetheless, she did her best to explain without breaking the privacy contract she¡¯d signed at the command of the Korkudai.  ¡°Something happened during the dance.  Not just to me, but to everyone.  But, I¡¯m okay.  I can¡¯t give you too many details without endangering you, however.  Do you understand?¡±


    Rowan scowled, understanding but obviously not liking the answer.  Xaz, on the other hand, didn¡¯t appear to understand but seemed to trust Zara enough to not press the issue.


    -*-*-*-*-


    Within a few days, things had mostly returned to normal at Begonia House.  Although Zara kept her word and didn¡¯t reveal what happened within the Forbidden City¡¯s Outer Court, other concubines didn¡¯t value their oath of privacy quite as much.  Rumors spread quickly throughout Ebonrue, and between Trisla and Rowan, they managed to put together much of what happened on their own.  This left Zara in the strange situation of knowing that they knew, but being unable to speak to them about anything that happened, nonetheless.


    ¡°I think the bombing probably wasn¡¯t the Spiral Alliance at all,¡± Rowan said, watching as Zara laid out some tarot cards on the coffee table.  Lady Kessandra had been teaching her to read the cards, and had sent over two lovely decks, as well as a small clay pot of salve for her bruises.  How Lady Kessandra knew about the bruises, Zara didn¡¯t know, but she suspected Prince Senthir had said something to the woman.  Rowan continued, ¡°I bet one of the Concubines or guests was the target.  It¡¯s a great way to off someone without anyone knowing who the real intended victim was.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense either,¡± Trisla signed, ¡°Not is it many times over so much more difficult to kill someone within the Forbidden City, but the Korkudai are going to investigate this like rabid snakes.¡±


    ¡°Snakes don¡¯t get rabies,¡± Xaz announced, as usual not really following the conversation.  Zara was nonetheless surprised at the comment.  ¡°Only maminals.¡±


    Zara corrected him quietly. ¡°Mammals?¡±


    ¡°Yes, maminals.¡±  Xaz nodded a few times as if the words were exactly the same.  He put his hands out and flipped his fingers up and down slightly to imitate tiny wings.  ¡°Like bitty bats.¡±


    Laughing quietly, Zara shook her head and returned to her cards.


    Trisla and Rowan, however, went back to their theorizing about the bombing.


    Pausing in folding some laundry, so her hands would be free for signing, Trisla posited, ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right, Rowan.  I think it¡¯s more likely one of the Noble Ministers orchestrated the bombing.  Or the Korkudai.  They¡¯d be the ones that¡¯d know best how to get a bomb into the Outer Court, after all.¡±


    ¡°Or one of the concubines was trying to get rid of a rival.  Though, that¡¯s a long way to go for that.  Usually, they just use poison.  What do you think, Lady Zara?¡±


    Zara held up a hand.  ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about whatever you¡¯re talking about.  It¡¯s all nonsense.¡±


    Thankfully, she was spared any further questioning by a knock at the door.  This time Rowan answered, bringing in the mail, a fat envelope from Ankali, which appeared to have not yet had the seal broken.  Zara was surprised but assumed that the Adjudicants were just too busy with the aftermath of the bombing to be going through all the mail.


    Opening it, she first found a holophoto of the night sky, taken by her mother, which she handed over to Xaz.  Countess Kalimat shared Xaz¡¯s love of skies and stars.  Next she pulled out a letter, in her mother¡¯s hand, addressed to her.  She began to read it aloud to all of them.


    ¡°My dearest Zara.  Inside are letters from your sister, your cousins, and your father.  I apologize for not sending anything via the core-net in recent weeks.  Our planetary core-net beacon has been on the fritz, and we¡¯ve not been able to repair it with so many resources going towards reconstruction in the cities.  There¡¯s also the problem that many of the beacon workers have come down with a new illness spreading rapidly across Ankali, something they¡¯re calling Coral Lung.  I don¡¯t really understand it, but it causes the lungs to slowly turn into a hardened substance like dried coral.  The person begins to suffocate in their own body.  They say it¡¯s not uncommon to crop up on planets after wars where a lot of complex conchem is used.  Thankfully, we know the Galactic Empire has an exceptional treatment for it.  But, unfortunately, we¡¯ve been completely unable to convince them to release more than a trickle of the medication to us.  If there is anything you can do to convince them to send more¡­  I know it is a lot to ask, but I don¡¯t know who else to turn to.


    I am sorry for putting such a burden upon you, but I do not wish to see our people suffer needlessly.  I miss you desperately and hope you are thriving on Viverides.  We look forward to when we¡¯re allowed to visit.  With all my heart, your loving mother.¡±


    All talk of the bombing ceased as those in the room absorbed the new information.  Zara re-read the letter silently, and Trisla wrung her hands, looking worried.


    ¡°You could ask Lady Kessandra,¡± Rowan suggested.


    Zara knew she could, but felt more than a little hesitation.  ¡°I¡¯d hate to presume upon our friendship so soon.  But, it might be the only way.¡±


    ¡°It might not,¡± Trisla signed suddenly.  ¡°The Astors are from one of the top Panmedicalist planets.  Lady Astrid might actually be your best bet...  If you can get her to work with you, that is.¡±


    Panmedica.  Zara had heard about it.  The Panmedicalist planets were all colonized by groups hailing from Polonia.  For centuries, perhaps millennia, their technology had all been focused on medical and genetic advancement to allow people to survive on worlds normally considered too hazardous for human life.  Polonia itself was legendary.  It was a planet outsiders couldn¡¯t visit.  The sheer amount of medication required to simply survive in the planet¡¯s atmosphere would kill anyone who hadn¡¯t been bred through the Polonian genetic lines, and raised under their medical regimen to survive there.  Even going there in a pressurized suit was forbidden, due to the possibility of some terrifying disease hitching a ride off of the planet.  Those who left Polonia had to spend an entire year, alone, in a specialized decontamination space station pod before continuing out of its system.


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine it would be possible to get Lady Astrid to do us any favors,¡± Rowan grumbled.


    ¡°Maybe.  Maybe not.¡±  A plan was beginning to form in Zara¡¯s mind.  There might be at least one way to get Lady Astrid to help her out.


    At that moment, another knock came from the door.  Since they¡¯d already had the mail come that afternoon, the additional visitor struck them all as a surprise.  ¡°Probably an invite for tea from Lady Kessandra,¡± Rowan said, hopping up again to head to the door.


    Zara nodded, thinking nothing of it.  Instead, she began to read the letter from her father.  A soft-spoken man, her father had written largely about some of the projects being done in the capital city to repair following the war.  She noted that he¡¯d left out anything about Coral Lung, likely so as to not worry her about it.


    ¡°Lady Zarathenia,¡± Rowan said, returning to the front room with a visitor following them, ¡°There¡¯s someone here to see you.¡±


    Zara looked up and almost fell out of her chair.


    The man standing beside Rowan held a tattered old cowboy hat in his hands.  Without it on, the fiery orange of his hair couldn¡¯t be contained, and the strange feather-shaped burn mark on his cheek was easily recognizable.


    ¡°Howdy, Lady Zara.  My name is Tython.¡±

 Chapter 10: The Night the Cheese Melted

    Chapter 10: The Night the Cheese Melted


    ¡°Tython?¡± Zara didn¡¯t know what to do. For a moment, her brain froze. No, this couldn¡¯t be the Tython she¡¯d met at the Festival, because that Tython exploded. And yet, what if it wasn¡¯t? What if the authorities had been wrong, and something or someone else had exploded, and this Tython was the one she met? And now he was here to¡­ To what?


    ¡°Right. Sorry. I reckon that you¡¯re a bit confused by me jus¡¯ showin¡¯ up like this.¡± He had a wide-brim hat that he removed, holding it to his chest as he bowed. ¡°I¡¯m not the Tython you met before. Them what blew up were the ones that attacked me in my house and tied me up so they could go to the Festival in my place.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± That made sense, and yet it still took Zara several more seconds before she could fully process the situation. ¡°Yes, of course. I¡¯m sorry, yes. I¡­ I was a bit shocked. Come in. Trisla? Tea?¡±


    Trisla nodded and headed to the kitchen to get some tea together. Though, Zara did notice that Trisla gave Tython a longer look than could be construed as polite. Zara assumed that Trisla didn¡¯t trust him.


    ¡°I won¡¯t keep ya none, Lady Zara. I jus¡¯ wanted to come by and apologize fer the trouble you went through on my account. Well, I know it weren¡¯t me exactly, but still¡­ I heard you got targeted by that explosive fella, so I thought it would be best to come an¡¯ say hello.¡±


    Zara blinked a few times, but then forced herself to ask, ¡°Won¡¯t you sit?¡± She motioned to the divan and waited for him to take a seat before returning to her own chair and asking, ¡°You said you were tied up? I hope you weren¡¯t hurt?¡±


    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t say it was pleasant, but I still got all my limbs and whatnot. They put me in the basement of Petunia House, and I didn¡¯t get no food fer days. Thought fer sure I¡¯d died a couple of times. I didn¡¯t even see ¡®em comin¡¯ really. They just knocked on my door late one night and then shoved me inside my house when I answered and roughed me up..¡± Tython shook his head and removed his hat, nervously keeping it on his lap, fidgeting with it now and then. ¡°Were you hurt bad, Lady Zara?¡±


    ¡°Not terribly. A few bruises, a few stitches.¡± She watched the Real Tython closely. He seemed like a bashful, gentle sort of fellow, and his rough accent pushed through his command of the Galactic language. She did note Xaz standing up straighter than she¡¯d seen him stand in months, his arms crossed as he watched the newcomer with as steely a gaze as he could muster. ¡°Did they say who they were? The ones who tied you up? Were the Korkudai able to apprehend them?¡±


    ¡°They didn¡¯t say. I thought maybe they were pirates, at first. My colony, back before I was brought to Viverides, we always got into scraps with pirates out on the edge of the Empire. Ain¡¯t a lot of soldiers out there keeping the peace. But, that don¡¯t make no sense here on Viverides. The Korkudai said they were prob¡¯ly some Spiral Alliance guys, but I ain¡¯t never seen the Spiral Alliance, so I can¡¯t say fer sure.¡± At about that moment, Trisla returned with a tray of tea, which she served first to their guest. ¡°Thank ya fer the tea, Miss.¡±


    Trisla signed in reply and Zara translated. ¡°She says you¡¯re welcome.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry about not really followin¡¯ protocol to come meetcha. Sendin¡¯ my card ¡®round first an¡¯ all. I jus¡¯...I don¡¯t know how much longer I¡¯ll be around. There¡¯s been some talk of sendin¡¯ me home.¡± He sipped his tea with immense care, and Zara watched as he used both hands to place it back on the saucer, taking deliberate measures not to spill or clink the glass. She assumed he hadn¡¯t had much training in etiquette, and that he likely didn¡¯t come from a noble family.


    ¡°You¡¯ll no longer be a Hostage Concubine? Is that what you want? Surely they are not trying to punish you for something that wasn¡¯t your fault.¡±


    ¡°No, not really a punishment. I¡¯m gonna be honorably retired. Nice pension an¡¯ all, on account of me gettin¡¯ targeted on behalf of the Emperor.¡± Tython shifted his weight a little. ¡°Not sure if it¡¯s what I want. Ain¡¯t got much to go back to. My homeworld¡¯s a tiny minin¡¯ colony on an asteroid. Maybe I¡¯ll stay here on Viverides, find m¡¯self some work. Hard to go back to nowhere after bein¡¯ somewhere. But, at the same time, they may make me leave, just on account of not wantin¡¯ me aroun¡¯ no more. I don¡¯t really know.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you do stay, please let us know. We¡¯ll send you an invite to dinner sometime. I hope you don¡¯t think me too rude, but I am afraid I just received a letter from home before you arrived, and I have a few things to attend to.¡± Zara said it with as much kindness as possible. She felt that the young man likely had as few friends as she did in this place, as he seemed quite different than most Hostage Concubines that she¡¯d met.


    Tython hopped to his feet, and in the process, almost knocked over the teacup. The jostling did manage to spill it a little, and both he, and Trisla, noticed at the same time. Tython whipped out a handkerchief and Trisla immediately stepped forward with a napkin, and the two of them attempted to clean the mess simultaneously, leading to their fingers brushing against each other. In that moment, Zara was certain she saw some blushing.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Tython said, ¡°I¡¯m a bit clumsy.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. Happens to everyone now and then. Trisla will show you to the door.¡±


    ¡°Thank you again, Lady Zara and¡­ Like I said, I¡¯m so sorry about what happened. If there¡¯s ever anything I can do to make it up to you, just let me know.¡±


    Zara waved as Trisla showed Tython to the door and, Zara noticed, didn¡¯t come back for a few more minutes than the task would really necessarily take.


    -*-*-*-*-


    ¡°Thank you so much for seeing me, Lady Astrid. I know your social calendar is often booked well in advance,¡± Zara said as she perched primly on the edge of the rather elegant but terribly uncomfortable high-backed chair that Astrid had offered her. ¡°Are your wounds healing well? Your hair looks to have made a great recovery.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it does look good, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Astrid cooed, bouncing her hand against the curls of what was, incredibly obviously, a pink wig. ¡°I¡¯ve always had excellent genes. My people are genetically engineered, you know?¡±


    Magnolia House wasn¡¯t much larger than Begonia House, but what it lacked in size it made up for in furnishings. Zara knew with certainty that many of the decorations in Astrid¡¯s house rivaled the rarity and expense of ones she¡¯d seen in Lady Kessandra¡¯s place, though Astrid¡¯s collection was much smaller. The decor¡¯s main colors of gold and stark white, occasionally cut with brilliant red accents surprised Zara. She¡¯d expected Astrid to gravitate towards her signature color of pink. Astrid received her in a parlor with grand sliding doors that opened onto a deck surrounding an incredible garden courtyard with an enormous oak at the center. A delicate incense teased the senses, borne on the faintest breeze coming through the open doors into the room where the ladies sat. If the relationship between herself and Astrid was less tense, Zara knew she would have delighted in the atmosphere of the place.


    ¡°I¡¯d heard something to that effect.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡± Astrid looked up from the tea she hadn¡¯t sipped.


    ¡°That your people were genetically engineered. Your planet is Panmedicalist, is it not?¡±


    The color drained from Astrid¡¯s face, making her unable to hide her shock at Zara knowing this fact. She tried to cover it by clearing her throat and finally lifting her gold-rimmed teacup to stall by taking several sips. When she was done, she cleared her throat a little and said, ¡°Seliora¡¯s original colonists were Panmedicalist, but we no longer hold any allegiance to Polonia. We¡¯re a free and independent society now. Praytell, how do you know so much about me, Lady Zara?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯d just heard a rumor.¡± Zara could tell that Astrid was displeased. The pink-haired woman believed herself the purveyor of gossip, not the subject of it. ¡°Actually, it¡¯s the reason I¡¯m here today. I think we may be able to help one another.¡±


    Even though Zara knew Astrid bore little desire to assist her in any way, shape, or form, she knew that the other woman would at least hear her out. Getting information about what Zara wanted and then figuring out a way to prevent Zara from achieving that aim would be one of Astrid¡¯s top delights.


    ¡°Help each other? How so?¡± Astrid kept her question light, but the sugary tones of trying to bait Zara into giving her more information swam just below the surface.


    ¡°Have you heard of Coral Lung?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Zara tapped one of her fingers against her teacup as she examined the other woman. She¡¯d have to word this exactly right in order to elicit the response she required. ¡°My homeworld of Ankali has a terrible outbreak of Coral Lung. They¡¯re getting some supplies from the Galactic Empire in order to fight it, but the supply is minimal. I thought perhaps, as a representative from a Panmedicalist world, you might have ideas on how to increase the supply?¡±


    Astrid shifted from side to side, her gaudy neo-Rococo dress made from holoweave making excessive crinkling noises and as she did. ¡°I mean, there are ways, of course, ways for anything to be accomplished. But, it can be so tricky. And expensive. And I am quite busy with so many other projects.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course. I wouldn¡¯t ask you to do anything without adequate compensation.¡± Zara could feel a tiny grin try to tug at her lips, and she forced herself not to smile, demanding that her face obey her and remain completely without glee. ¡°I¡¯ve recently found an interesting locked book at Begonia House. At first, I thought it might be the poetry book that you mentioned, but no¡­ No, it appears to be Lady Noralina¡¯s journal. Maybe you¡¯d be interested in it, considering how close both of you were? Would you be willing to trade for that?¡±


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    Immediately, Zara could tell that Lady Astrid¡¯s interest was piqued. Although she tried to hide her reaction, the color drained from her face so rapidly, Zara worried the woman might faint. Her fingers curled against her teacup, and Zara pretended not to hear the faint squeak of her fingernail polish scraping against the porcelain. ¡°Ah, well. I think¡­¡± Lady Astrid took a sip of her tea to calm herself and stall for time. Eventually, she continued. ¡°I mean, it is a rather large ask. But, Lady Noralina was ever so precious to me. I¡¯m sure she spoke of me in her journal in absolutely glowing terms. Did you read it?¡±


    Zara waved one hand and did her best to craft the most expert lie she could, ¡°No, of course not. It wouldn¡¯t be right to read someone else¡¯s journal. Besides, it¡¯s locked.¡±


    Learning that the journal contained a lock put Lady Astrid at visible ease. She let out enough of a breath that her shoulders visibly sunk, and some tension in her hands smoothed itself. ¡°Yes. Very private woman, that Lady Noralina. Absolutely, we can make arrangements right away. I¡¯ll get my majordomo to send an express shipment of the Coral Lung medication to your world immediately. We don¡¯t really keep it in stock on Seliora, as we¡¯re genetically engineered not to get such common diseases, but I¡¯m certain our medical professionals could whip it up easier than chocolate cake.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so very kind and understanding, Lady Astrid,¡± Zara cooed, playing to the woman¡¯s narcissism. ¡°Once I hear from Ankali that the medication has arrived, I¡¯ll send one of my servants right over with the journal.¡±


    A slight twitch in Lady Astrid¡¯s face let Zara know that the woman definitely didn¡¯t like the idea of having to wait on the journal until she¡¯d completed her end of the deal. But, Astrid had no real bargaining chips to convince Zara otherwise. So, in the end, she forced a bitter smile and said, ¡°Of course. I¡¯m only glad I can be of help to the less fortunate.¡±


    Zara left swiftly after that. Any additional time spent in Astrid¡¯s presence would only allow the woman to gain more ammunition for whatever attack she might try next against Zara or those she cared about. A rush of energy jolted through Zara as she rode the pedicab back to Begonia House. Finally, she had managed to not only comprehend how the world of the Concubines operated, but she successfully maneuvered something into her favor with little more than a scrap of knowledge and a dead woman¡¯s journal.


    That night, she and the entire household went into Ebonrue to celebrate with a fancy dinner, so that Trisla might enjoy herself as well, instead of having to cook. They ate at a seafood restaurant that Madame Olendra had suggested a few weeks prior, trying the purple kerring fish of Viverides¡¯s similarly purple oceans as well as crackling kelp cake that gushed honey and nuts from between each layer. On their way back, the group purchased sparklers from a street vendor, and wrote words in the air in front of each other. Zara knew the evening, filled with such laughter and camaraderie, would be one she¡¯d not soon forget.


    By the time they made it back to Begonia House, Zara¡¯s exhaustion kept dragging her eyelids downwards. ¡°Rowan, ah¡­ Go early tomorrow and bring Lady Astrid the coordinates for Ankali so she knows where to send the medical supplies. With the core-net beacon down they¡¯ll need to navigate manually.¡±


    ¡°They should be able to download the coordinates from the corepedia.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡­¡± Zara sighed, ¡°I don¡¯t want to give her any reason to say we didn¡¯t hold up our end of the bargain in some way. You remember what she did with the dress. I¡¯ll give you a gift to bring her as well. It¡¯s important to go the extra mile to be conciliatory until we¡¯ve managed to get the medications.¡±


    Rowan shrugged and grumbled an agreement, before trudging off to bed.


    -*-*-*-*-


    The next morning, Rowan set out to Magnolia House with not only the coordinates in question but an excessively large vase of pink blooms from the most expensive florist in Ebonrue. Between the flowers and the fancy dinner the night before, Zara knew she¡¯d stretched their budget slightly, but considering it might save lives, she declared it justified expenses. They¡¯d just have to be a bit more frugal in the weeks to come. Although Hostage Concubines received a monthly allowance, most of the noble-born ones also received money from home. Zara knew her parents would have contributed to her upkeep, but she felt too guilty about using money that could be put towards the rehabilitation of Ankali.


    The rest of the day passed quickly. Zara had been invited to join Lady Vivienne¡¯s book club, which met twice a week at Zinnia House. Although Zara had expected the book club to be quite the affair, it appeared that the only members were Lady Vivienne, Madame Lisette, and a veiled Hostage Concubine in all black named Madsieur Adrian of the Nor gender. Madsieur was the polite title for a Nor Concubine of common birth, with Laird being the title of one of noble standing.


    They discussed their next book to read, and Zara found that she couldn¡¯t really be bothered to care. It was just nice to finally be making friends her own age, not that Lady Kessandra wasn¡¯t wonderful company.


    After the book discussion, they moved on to discussing Lady Vivienne¡¯s plans for an augmented eye to replace the one that had been damaged during ¡°the event¡±. Everyone now referred to it as ¡°the event¡±, since they couldn¡¯t talk about it openly, but obviously still needed to refer to it in occasions such as these. Lady Vivienne expressed her desire to get a light-projecting eye that would allow her to read in the dark, and Madsieur Adrian said she should get a creepy all-black one to spook people. Madame Lizette had no opinions on the subject, but found the cookies Lady Zara brought ¡°delightful¡± and hoped she could get the recipe.


    After returning home, Zara helped Trisla make dinner. After such a fancy meal the night prior, they went with a simple Ankali staple, spiced Zekan dumplings with red cheese and dates. Xaz excused himself early from dinner, an unusual event for the normally ravenous creature, though he mentioned that ¡°the most blessed stars have aligned for communicating with the Lost Ones¡±, which trumped seconds or dessert, apparently. Before bed, Rowan mentioned that, when delivering the flowers earlier in the day, they may have played a bit of a prank on Lady Astrid. Zara halted the conversation immediately, not wanting to know anything about it, and telling Rowan that it best not be something troublesome that she¡¯d have to sit through a yelling-about later.


    Sleep came easily to Zara. More content than she¡¯d been in a while, she prayed that the medications would get from Seliora to Ankali quickly. The fact that her upsetting fate as a Hostage Concubine may have allowed her to find a way to do some real good for the people of Ankali filled her heart with pride. Perhaps she could find more ways to contribute to the advancement of her homeworld. It would certainly help to quell her homesickness.


    -*-*-*-*-


    Zara woke to movement and noise, light and heat.


    ¡°Is she in there?¡± Rowan¡¯s voice called from some distance away.


    She opened her eyes to find Xaz looming over her bed, ripping blankets and pillows off to throw them aside. ¡°Xaz?¡± she asked groggily, trying to shake off sleep. ¡°What¡¯s¡­?¡±


    ¡°No time. Untime. Timeless,¡± Xaz muttered, swiftly shoving his clawed hands underneath her to heft her up and hold her to his chest. ¡°Cling. Cling to your Xaz, Lady Inkblossom.¡±


    She did as commanded, both because she really had no choice, and because she finally had managed to wake enough to notice the fire climbing the wall of her bedroom, her curtains turning to blackened mush as the flame ate through them, and her ceiling becoming a habitat for billowing smoke.. ¡°Merciful gods!¡± she exclaimed, leaning into Xaz as he rushed her out of the room. ¡°Is the house on fire?¡±


    ¡°Nothing escapes your keen eye, m¡¯lady,¡± muttered Rowan as Xaz hurried down the flaming hallway toward the perpetually irascible youth. Together, the three of them dodged cinders and tried to hold their breaths against the increasing haze as they made their way to the door.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Trisla? We need to get to her! She won¡¯t be able to call out, and the smoke will¡­¡±


    ¡°I got her out already,¡± Rowan replied, just as they made it to the front door, ¡°And sent Xaz to get you.¡±


    A wave of relief spread over Zara, but it was one she couldn¡¯t even enjoy. Despite the trio making it out to the front garden, she found herself overcome with a spate of coughing so intense she temporarily was unable to see properly.


    ¡°Lady Inkblossom?¡± Xaz¡¯s concerned voice barely reached her as he placed her down on the cool grass. The pain in Zara¡¯s lungs ballooned to fill her upper torso with the searing remembrance of inhaling conchem. Inside her, tiny micro-fissures reopened, agitated by the smoke and coughing. She choked on nothing, unable to gasp through the coughing and pain enough air to feed her body¡¯s needs. Another gasp. Nothing. No air. Panic rose as dizziness swirled inside her.


    To her left, someone knelt in the grass. It was Trisla, and without fumbling she pressed an inhaler to Zara¡¯s lips. The cool relief of her medication hit her within seconds. The coughing lessened, little by little, and she managed to take some breaths that, while painful, did manage the delivery of air. A hand rubbed her back. Trisla. Always Trisla. The fact that Trisla had, in the chaos of the fire, managed to remember to grab Zara¡¯s inhaler, astonished her. The woman saved her life. She deserved a massive raise that Zara couldn¡¯t afford to pay her.


    ¡°Fire brigade is taking their damned time, aren¡¯t they?¡± Rowan asked.


    Finally able to get her wits about her enough to turn and look, Zara beheld the roaring conflagration that Begonia House had become. The entire eastern side was engulfed in smoke through which the occasional flame could be seen.


    Random onlookers began to amass on the road, both Hostage Concubines and various serving staff from nearby homes. Lady Kessandra and her housekeeper Madame Marie showed up as well, bringing blankets and bottled water.


    ¡°You¡¯ll all stay at Wisteria House tonight, and until you can get sorted,¡± Lady Kessandra said, holding up a wrinkled hand to deny any protests they might offer. ¡°I¡¯ll hear no refusal of my hospitality. There¡¯s more than enough room and I¡¯ll be delighted to be helpful for once.¡±


    After thanking her, Zara broke into another round of coughing, leaving her unable to respond as the fire brigade finally arrived. Rowan handled it instead, letting them know that nobody should be in the house and that they had all been sleeping when the blaze erupted.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Rowan added, ¡°And be careful if you go into the basement. I¡¯m sure all the cheese has melted.¡±


    Members of the fire brigade rushed into the house and began to put out the blaze as Zara finally managed to get, albeit unsteadily, to her feet. The warm night air, made even warmer by the flames, caused faint perspiration to cling to her skin. But, she could at least find herself glad for the rather fancy nightgown she¡¯d sewn all those months ago. She looked vaguely respectable for someone who had been rushed out of her house at midnight.


    ¡°How could this have happened?¡± she asked everyone and no one. ¡°We didn¡¯t have any candles burning. Do you think it was electrical?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure the fire brigade will figure it out,¡± Trisla signed in reply.


    ¡°Well, however it happened, it¡¯s not that big of a loss, hm? It¡¯s not like anything expensive or rare will be lost.¡± The saccharine voice came from behind Zara, and she immediately recognized it without even turning around. Lady Astrid Astor.


    Zara spun and found Astrid and her brother Lord Vander Astor standing side by side on the road next to a Korkudai emergency vehicle, one of the few electric conveyances allowed in Ebonrue. Right. Zara had forgotten. Lord Astor was the Commander of the Ebonrue Korkudai. Of course, it would be a possibility that he¡¯d show up to an emergency situation such as this. It didn¡¯t explain Astrid¡¯s presence, but she assumed the woman had simply been with her brother when he¡¯d received the call.


    ¡°Rare and expensive, no. But definitely some things of sentimental value,¡± Zara lamented quietly. ¡°I suppose we can¡¯t complain, as we all escaped without too much harm.¡±


    The glow of the fire made Astrid¡¯s tiny smile easy for Zara to see as the pink-wigged woman clasped her hands together. ¡°How unfortunate.¡± She jutted out her bottom lip in a pronounced pout. ¡°I suppose this means Lady Noralina¡¯s journal is gone, too. Wretched luck, isn¡¯t it? But that¡¯s ok. In understanding of your sad predicament, I¡¯ll just cancel the shipment of medication instead of forcing you to find some other way to pay for it.¡±


    A shiver went down Zara¡¯s spine as she realized Astrid had set the fire to rid herself not only of the journal, but her rival as well.

 Chapter 11: Unraveling Secrets

    Chapter 11: Unraveling Secrets


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe she burned down Begonia House!¡± Rowan ranted in between bites of strawberry crepe. ¡°And the worst thing is that her brother will make sure the fire brigade doesn¡¯t rule it an arson, since they are managed by the Korkudai. Nobody will ever know!¡±


    ¡°We know,¡± Zara murmured as she unwrapped the bandage on Xaz¡¯s forearm. He hadn¡¯t even told them that he¡¯d gotten burnt until they made it to Wisteria House. ¡°We know what they did.¡±


    ¡°Shh,¡± Madame Marie admonished Rowan as she swung through the solarium carrying a towering pile of pancakes to deposit on the breakfast table. ¡°You are the noisiest rude beast. If you wake Lady Kessandra, I will sew your mouth closed.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Madame Marie,¡± Rowan replied in a sing-song tone. Zara had the feeling that Rowan enjoyed the housekeeper¡¯s surly nature. ¡°But, can I get more strawberry sauce?¡±


    ¡°Hmph! Lousy pest!¡± Nonetheless, the portly woman scuttled out of the room, likely to go retrieve the sauce in question.


    A frowning Xaz, sitting on the floor beside Zara¡¯s chair, winced as she put antiseptic on the wound. ¡°Xaz kill Lady Pinkpuss?¡±


    Trisla made a face and signed, ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good name for Lady Astrid, Xaz,¡± in between nibbles of her breakfast. She rarely ate anything in the morning besides half a piece of buttered toast.


    ¡°Too late,¡± Xaz replied.


    ¡°No, you definitely should not commit murder, Xaz. Goodness gracious. We can¡¯t go around killing our enemies like we¡¯re some sort of Galactic Empire Kill Squad.¡± Zara turned to grab the fresh gauze Madame Marie had given her, and started to re-wrap Xaz¡¯s wound. It wasn¡¯t bad enough to necessitate a doctor, but she still wanted to make sure to tend to it properly. ¡°Though, I am glad you had the forethought to hide the journal here at Wisteria House, Trisla. I would have never expected Astrid to do such a dastardly thing. Sure, I knew she liked causing trouble, but¡­¡±


    But, they could have been killed. It was the second time in as many weeks that Zara had almost died. Being a Hostage Concubine was indeed as dangerous as the rumors said. And she didn¡¯t even live in the Forbidden City.


    ¡°What are you going to do? Do you think getting the Adjudicants involved would help?¡± Trisla asked, her meager toast now abandoned so she could use her hands to participate in the conversation.


    Zara shook her head as Xaz stood up and moseyed over to stab a pancake with a long claw. He consumed the entire thing in one bite. ¡°No. We¡¯ve no proof of anything. Anyway, we still need the medication for Ankali. We can¡¯t let Astrid know that we know what she did. I¡¯ll just¡­ I¡¯ll just have to speak with her and see if there is something else she will accept as payment.¡±


    ¡°You need to get some dirt on Lady Astrid.¡± This voice was a new one entirely. Lady Kessandra slowly made her way into the solarium, her ornate cane supporting some of her weight. She wore elegant silk tea robes with a golden sash and high ruffled collar over her nightgown, somehow causing her to look regal despite technically not being dressed for company. It put some cheer into Zara¡¯s heart, however, that Lady Kessandra was so comfortable with her guests that she dressed as if they were simply family. Xaz assisted Lady Kessandra into her chair and then she continued. ¡°In the world of the Concubine, information can be worth more than gold. Knowing a person¡¯s secrets gives you power over them.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Zara hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She didn¡¯t like to play dirty. And her one attempt at manipulation and intrigue had backfired terribly, endangering those she cared about. What if the next time she bungled it badly enough that someone got really hurt? On the other hand, Astrid had done something she couldn¡¯t just allow to go unanswered. Zara¡¯s upbringing hadn¡¯t prepared her for this. She¡¯d learned ladylike behavior, etiquette and charity. Nobody had taught her how to navigate a social battlefield.


    The nobility of Ankali wasn¡¯t a cut-throat society, as their culture and religion emphasized service to one¡¯s family, one¡¯s people, and one¡¯s planet. Their trio of gods, the Sisters, each manifested one of these aspects. Valia, a housewife, protected and uplifted the family. Hethete a paladin, defended and healed the people of Ankali. And Lyra guarded the plants, animals, seas and sky. Nobles were charged with embodying these aspects, and those who proved too ambitious, cruel, or greedy could lose their noble title through a process of official censure by popular vote or religious trial. It kept the nobles focused on Ankali rather than amassing power for themselves.


    ¡°I feel under-equipped for this kind of battle,¡± Zara admitted quietly. In her months on Viverides, she¡¯d come to understand that in some ways Astrid was right. Ankali was indeed a backwater planet lacking the sophistication of the core systems. She might as well be a milkmaid from a farm living in a city for the first time. ¡°I¡¯m not even sure where to begin.¡±


    ¡°We know she¡¯s close with her brother,¡± Rowan suggested. ¡°I could poke around and see what I find out about him.¡±


    ¡°I have an idea as well,¡± Trisla signed. ¡°And since Madame Marie doesn¡¯t like anyone else cooking in her kitchen, I should have some extra time.¡±


    As much as she didn¡¯t want them to put themselves in any more danger for her sake, Zara knew they needed to figure this out, both to obtain the medicine for Ankali, and for their own safety. She nodded slightly, agreeing to the plan. ¡°At least we still have Lady Noralina¡¯s journal. It was a good idea to keep it here. Thank you for allowing it, Lady Kessandra.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my dear. I agreed with Trisla that they might try to steal it, but arson¡­¡± She clicked her tongue and quietly thanked Madame Marie as the woman brought her coffee. The housekeeper also set the extra strawberry sauce in front of Rowan with a silent scowl before heading back to her kitchen.


    ¡°She loves me,¡± Rowan said whilst dumping globs of strawberry sauce onto another crepe. ¡°I may have to elope with your housekeeper, Lady Kessandra.¡±


    Lady Kessandra laughed and shook her head. ¡°You can certainly try.¡±


    -*-*-*-*-


    Zara frowned as she looked at herself in the mirror. All of the clothing she¡¯d sewn since coming to Viverides had been destroyed in the fire. The only things left for any of them to wear were clothes from Ankali they¡¯d packed away in a shed behind Begonia House. The simple gray dress contrasted with the more elaborate hairstyles she¡¯d been wearing since coming to Viverides, so she¡¯d only put her long brown hair in a ponytail. In such an outfit, she¡¯d look completely out of place in Ebonrue. Even the house staff of Ebonrue merchants dressed nicer.


    A knock on the door startled Zara. She turned, just as Madame Marie entered, the sour woman not even waiting for Zara to respond. Zara didn¡¯t mind, however. As far as she could tell, Madame Marie ran Wisteria House with ruthless efficiency but also doted upon her Lady.


    ¡°Madame Marie, I must apologize for earlier¡­¡± Zara began, bowing to the woman in the hopes that she¡¯d not taken too much offense. She assumed that must be the reason for the sudden visit. ¡°I¡¯ll have Rowan clean the floors and windows as punishment.¡±


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    A brief wave of Madame Marie¡¯s hand to dismiss the subject was followed by the woman moving back into the hallway and then entering again, pushing a wheeled rack with more than a dozen dresses on old-fashioned hangers. ¡°You can¡¯t wear that,¡± she said bluntly, peering at Zara¡¯s dress over the top of her glasses. ¡°Not whilst associated with Lady Kessandra.¡±


    Carefully, Zara approached the rack. Even from a distance, she could tell that the dresses were several tiers above what she¡¯d ever worn before. Some displayed motion-fabric, the designs on them moving and shifting subtly over programmed holothread. Others shimmered with gold and silver thread or inlaid jewels, or had hand-stitched lace and complicated embroidered draping. ¡°These are Court dresses,¡± Zara murmured in awe, recognizing some of the styles from old images in picture books.


    ¡°Out of fashion,¡± Madame Marie pronounced. ¡°No longer restricted.¡±


    Zara nodded. A lowly Hostage Concubine would not be permitted to wear an official Court dress. But these were likely considered so old and unfashionable that the Adjudicants had taken them off of the registry. She carefully looked at a few of them until she found a simpler one than the rest, a navy blue dress with embroidery only on the cuffs and collar. ¡°May I wear this one?¡±


    ¡°Mm. Very well.¡± Madame Marie stepped further inside, closing the door behind her. ¡°One of Lady Kessandra¡¯s old traveling dresses. I will help you put it on.¡±


    Zara found herself thankful for the assistance. The dress looked simple but required a corset and complicated padding on the backside to make the bustle more pronounced. As Madame Marie began to lace the corset, Zara asked, ¡°Madame Marie¡­ I have a question and I value my friendship with Lady Kessandra too much to ask her directly. Perhaps you might¡­?¡±


    ¡°Ask.¡±


    ¡°She was the Emperor¡¯s favorite, was she not? How did she end up here? And why does she look so much older than the Emperor? Weren¡¯t they the same age?¡±


    ¡°Mm,¡± Madame Marie intoned again. She kept her silence for a long while, perhaps debating whether or not it would be appropriate to answer the question. ¡°As you likely know, the Royal Family and Consorts of the Forbidden City utilize a secret technology to extend their lifespans indefinitely. I don¡¯t know much about it, as I only came to Lady Kessandra after she moved to Ebonrue. From what I understand, some tragedy occurred and because of it, Lady Kessandra¡¯s body no longer accepted the life-extending technology. She didn¡¯t want the Emperor to have to watch her grow old and die, slowly losing her beauty and vitality. So, she requested to be moved here, and made the Emperor promise to never visit.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s awful.¡±


    ¡°Yes. And you did not hear it from me. Nor will you repeat it.¡± To punctuate those words, Madame Marie pulled the lacing on the corset swiftly, cinching Zara into the garment. It took her several moments to catch her breath and nod in agreement.


    Zara wondered what kind of man would allow the love of their life to go into seclusion just because the challenges and indignities of getting older might be distressing or inconvenient. Madame Marie had said that the choice was Lady Kessandra¡¯s, but still, the Emperor surely could have disallowed it if he wanted. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can respect such a man. He¡¯s letting his true love waste away far from his care.¡±


    ¡°He is the Emperor,¡± Madame Marie admonished curtly as she stepped back, motioning to the mirror so that Zara could take a look. ¡°But think also of Lady Kessandra. She may love the Emperor, but growing old in the Forbidden City whilst every other Concubine and Consort retain their beauty would be difficult. Is it wrong for her to want some peace in her final days?¡±


    The candor with which Madame Marie suddenly spoke took Zara by surprise. She hadn¡¯t considered that aspect. Lady Kessandra could have stayed in the Forbidden City, but her position would have been more and more vulnerable. By leaving, she remained forever fixed in the Emperor¡¯s mind, and would be out of the reach of most of the scheming of the court. Although Zara didn¡¯t like that the Emperor allowed it, in the end, it was a choice Lady Kessandra had made for herself. Zara knew it should be respected.


    Eventually, Zara nodded, letting the difficult subject drop as she turned to Madame Marie and bowed. The woman had already retreated to the door, unwilling to spend more time than necessary on any one task. ¡°Thank you, Madame Marie. For the dresses and for¡­everything else you¡¯ve done for us.¡±


    ¡°Hmph,¡± was the only reply Zara heard before the door shut.


    -*-*-*-*-


    Lady Vivienne¡¯s book club had long since adjourned for the morning. Their discussion of ¡°The Peacocks of Arikan¡± had been lively, but upon learning that the book was a favorite of Princess Aiya, they had wandered into theories about the mysterious Supreme Imperial Consort, the highest ranking of all the Concubines. According to rumors, despite Princess Aiya¡¯s beauty and high station, the Emperor shunned her. She lived an almost monastic life in the Imperial Temple of Ossra within the Forbidden City. Ossra was the goddess of widows and widowers, those unable to bear children, and people of lost honor. One of the few ways out of the life of a Concubine was for the Emperor to give one leave to become a nun or monk in the Temple of Ossra. Apparently, Princess Aiya had been petitioning for years, but the Emperor rejected her pleas.


    ¡°She is beautiful, though. Her dance at the Night Blossom Festival moved me almost to tears,¡± Madame Lizette said, nibbling another biscuit. ¡°It reminded me of Lady Noralina¡¯s dancing. She was so graceful, remember? I recall her saying she¡¯d been a famous dancer on her planet before coming to Viverides.¡±


    Zara sat up straighter. She hadn¡¯t thought to ask the book club members about Lady Noralina. ¡°You knew Lady Noralina? What was she like?¡±


    Lizette nodded, but before she could reply, Lady Vivienne said, ¡°Strong-willed and sharp-witted. She disliked injustice or cruelty. There was a Lady Kendeira who mistreated her servants, and Lady Noralina found a way to get her removed as a Hostage Concubine and sent home. You had an encounter with her too, didn¡¯t you Adrian?¡±


    Madsieur Adrian could barely be seen behind the ever-present veil, but nonetheless, Zara thought she noticed a change of expression to something awestruck when Vivenne asked the question. ¡°I did. One of the male concubines liked to make sport of insulting and accosting me. After Lady Noralina found out, that the male concubine was somehow exposed for visiting brothels in Ebonrue. She told me later that she felt some people just didn¡¯t deserve the honor of being concubines.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Zara mused. So, it wasn¡¯t just Astrid, then. Noralina spent her time contriving to rid Ebonrue of several undesirable concubines. ¡°Did she ever mention Lady Astrid?¡±


    ¡°Oh! She and Lady Astrid fought constantly,¡± Madame Lizette exclaimed, quite excited to participate in gossip. ¡°Even actual physical fighting once or twice. I remember seeing the scratches on Lady Noralina¡¯s face from Lady Astrid¡¯s nails. But, she just laughed it off, saying that she didn¡¯t care about scars obtained in the course of fighting righteously.¡±


    All of this just confirmed what Zara believed after reading Lady Noralina¡¯s journal. She was not, in fact, a friend of Lady Astrid¡¯s. They¡¯d likely been at odds from the beginning. And with the knowledge that Astrid had been behind the arson at Begonia House, it made complete sense that Astrid may have contrived to get rid of Lady Noralina.


    ¡°What ultimately happened to Lady Noralina?¡± Zara asked.


    The room became eerily quiet, and none of the trio looked eager to speak about Noralina¡¯s fate. Eventually, Lady Vivienne spoke up, parting the awkward silence. Her new augmented eye continued to look at Zara, whilst the natural one turned upwards as if searching the heavens for strength. ¡°A tragedy. Lady Noralina went missing. Everyone searched for her¡­ Weeks passed. Eventually, the Korkudai pulled her out of the river. They said she¡¯d jumped. Many forlorn Hostage Concubines do.¡±


    A sudden slam of a palm against the coffee table startled Zara. Madsieur Adrian¡¯s voice became impassioned behind the veil. ¡°Lady Noralina would never do that. She wasn¡¯t melancholic, or the sort of person given to ennui and sorrow. Lady Noralina was a fighter, a spirited force for good in the world. When they said she¡¯d drowned, I wouldn¡¯t believe it. I begged them to check her body, do an autopsy. But, the Korkudai declared it a drowning, and the coroner agreed with them.¡±


    Zara could feel her nails sinking into the plush of Lady Vivienne¡¯s velour chair. The Korkudai. If Astrid killed Noralina, her brother would have been able to cover it up. ¡°Damn,¡± Zara cursed.


    Everyone in attendance blinked in shock. They¡¯d never heard Zara curse before. She clasped both hands over her mouth, eyes widening in surprise.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Quite alright,¡± Madame Lizette replied in a comforting tone as she leaned toward Zara. ¡°The saddest thing about it all is that because Lady Noralina committed suicide, the palace considers her¡­dishonored. Harming oneself is harming the property of the Emperor, an unforgivable treason. Her grave remains unmarked, and her family must bear the mark of shame.¡±


    Zara pressed her lips together. She thought back to the time Lady Kessandra had read her cards all those months ago. What was it that Lady Kessandra had said?


    ¡°Ghostly presences press upon you to act on their behalf, but there is danger¡­ If you are not careful, this fire could consume all you hold dear.¡±


    After a slow inhale to calm herself, Zara made a decision. If Lady Noralina was requesting her help, then she must do everything in her power to restore the woman¡¯s honor.

 Chapter 12: The Tale of Trisla and Tython pt. 1

    Chapter 12: The Tale of Trisla and Tython pt. 1


    ¡°It¡¯s fixed.  Mostly, anyway.¡± Rowan said, releasing the translator drone from its charging base.  With a slight buzz, it went to hover near Trisla.  ¡°Give it a try.¡±


    Rowan had purchased the broken secondhand drone some weeks prior at the bazaar in Ebonrue, and had spent that time trying to get it up and running.  Thankfully, most of Rowan¡¯s ¡®tinkering projects¡¯ had been kept in the shed behind Begonia House to prevent the cursing from reaching the ears of company, so it hadn¡¯t been consumed in the fire.  No more than six inches in diameter, the drone¡¯s base contained cameras allowing it to easily see everything happening around it.  It hovered in front of Trisla as she began to sign hesitantly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to tell it,¡± she signed.  At the same time, the drone interpreted her signing, speaking aloud the words, albeit in a rather stilted male voice.


    ¡°Yeah, sorry about that.¡±  Rowan winced a little and turned away.  ¡°I could only get that one voice to work.  But, don¡¯t worry.  I¡¯m trying to find additional voices on the core-net.  It¡¯s just such an old model, I¡¯m not having any luck.  Try a few more things?  I want to see if I need to make any adjustments.¡±


    Trisla began signing her recipe for lemon cake.  The drone kept up fairly well, though occasionally used strange or slightly incorrect words.  Rowan explained that the seller hadn¡¯t lived in the core planets, and likely the vocabulary used had some differences from common Galactic.


    Nonetheless, Trisla knew it¡¯d be a boon to her while running errands in the city, and when interacting with staff at Wisteria House.  It would take some time to get used to having it follow her around and stare at her, but she decided to think of it less like a drone and more like a pet.  ¡°I¡¯ll call it Rigsby,¡± she signed.


    ¡°That¡¯s an awful name.¡±


    Trisla made a face and thwacked Rowan on the arm with the back of her hand.


    ¡°Well, it is.  Sounds like an old man¡¯s name.  Though, I guess it does kind of speak like an old man, so¡­  Maybe that¡¯s appropriate.¡±


    A silent laugh came from Trisla as she shook her head.  ¡°I¡¯m going into town.  Do you need anything?¡±


    ¡°Booze.¡±


    ¡°Lady Zara is going to have a fit if she finds out how much you¡¯re drinking these days.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t enough to affect Rowan¡¯s health, but definitely more drinking than Zara would approve.  Trisla had, at least, been able to convince Rowan to keep all the liquor in the shed, but now that they were living at Lady Kessandra¡¯s house, they didn¡¯t have that option.


    ¡°This place drives me to drink, Tris.  Back on Ankali, things were stressful, sure.  But, I could deal with that kind of stress.  It¡¯s one thing when you know who your enemy is, and how they¡¯re going to come at you.  But, here on Viverides, it¡¯s all this backstabbing bullshit.  We¡¯re all in constant fucking danger in ways I think Lady Zara is too fucking naive to realize.¡±


    ¡°Rowan!¡±  No translation drone would be necessary to read the exasperation from Trisla.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Tris.  I love Lady Zara, but that Astrid bitch literally had to make an attempt on her life before she¡¯d consider the woman anything more than ¡®slightly nasty¡¯.  Then she got herself entangled with that fake Tython and almost ended up dead.  She puts too much stock in strangers, and thinks far too highly of people.¡±  Rowan collapsed into one of Lady Kessandra¡¯s many expensive silk-embroidered chairs, this one with a rendition of a garden in the rain.  ¡°If something happens to Lady Zara¡­¡±


    ¡°Nothing will happen.  She has all of us to look after her.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but if something happens¡­¡±  Rowan¡¯s hand gripped the arm of the chair hard.  ¡°I don¡¯t got people to go home to.  This is all I¡¯ve got.  I¡¯m not like you with some mysterious family and doubly-mysterious past.  My parents died in the war on Ankali, after immigrating from Yterra to avoid war in the first place.  I don¡¯t want to end up¡­¡±


    Trisla grabbed Rowan, pulling them into a tight hug.  For such a tiny woman, she had a fearsome grip.


    ¡°Nothing will happen,¡± she signed after turning Rowan loose.  ¡°Now go find Xaz and make sure he¡¯s not getting into trouble.  Yesterday, he ate an entire pie that Madame Marie set out to cool, and she went after him wielding a spatula.  I don¡¯t think it hurts him when she hits him, but he still looked rather pathetic when she yelled at him.¡±


    Rowan grunted.


    Trisla pressed her lips together.  ¡°And yes, I¡¯ll get you your booze.¡±


    ~*~*~*~*~*~


    The streets of Ebonrue were filled with merchants of every kind.  Although only merchants and artisans of a certain Imperial Grade could live and own businesses in Ebonrue, a few days a month were set aside to allow for the Great Bazaar.  On those days, anyone could come into Ebonrue and sell their wares.  It allowed the Adjudicants to scout among the rabble for those of exceptional skill to raise in rank.  It was just such a bazaar where Rowan had picked up the translator drone because among the merchants were not just crafters, artisans, and merchants, but traders of secondhand wares, shady doctors, unlicensed augmenters, men and women of ill repute, questionable entertainers with sticky fingers, cut-throats for hire, and those who might be persuaded to sell all sorts of illegal goods.  Anyone could get into Ebonrue those days, making it a much more dangerous city than usual.  Even though the criminal element existed in Ebonrue on most days, the numbers of those willing to break laws swelled during the days of the Great Bazaar, keeping the local Korkudai busy.


    Trisla moved deftly and silently among the crowds, her face mostly covered by the kind of veil worn by Ossran pilgrims.  As few wished to interfere with the pilgrimage of widows or speak to those who had dishonored themselves, no one paid her any mind, and even several Korkudai officers stepped aside from their milling about on the walkway to allow her to easily pass.  She¡¯d traded her maid¡¯s uniform for a simpler dress she¡¯d brought from Ankali, a thin formless black kaftan from her home planet of Zibanna.  When paired with the veil, it gave her an exotic look, as if she might be a foreigner drifting through the bazaar, potentially visiting Viverides for the first time.


    Rigsby floated behind her, though certainly wasn¡¯t the only drone in the streets.  Truly paranoid concubines sometimes assigned their servants drones to follow them about on their errands, just to make sure they weren¡¯t doing anything nefarious.  Some drones advertised for market stalls by displaying ads or holding trays of samples.  Above them all, delivery drones whipped around, taking purchased wares to the houses of their new owners.


    The Great Bazaar filled the streets with scents and sounds not usually common to Ebonrue.  Trisla briefly watched a musician play a Tani-dahmaz, a wind instrument that simultaneously created colorful dancing holograms in patterns keyed off of the notes.  In some cultures, the Tani-dahmaz was considered sacred and would be used along with drug-induced trances for sacred rituals or healing.  Slightly further down the road, huge piles of red nahj stood as tall as the boisterous merchant selling them, their peppery scent so intense that many passersby sneezed.  A cadre of children laughed loudly and threatened to knock into visitors as they chased a small drone blowing soap bubbles.  They weaved in and out of the lanes of wares, passing cobblers selling specialized shoes for augmented feet, myriad hot food stands each more tempting than the next, and farmers from the white plains whose bleached produce looked ghostly and sinister.  As she moved through the Bazaar, sounds collided with each other in a cacophony.  Voices.  Music.  The tap of a small hammer.  The trickle of melting ice.  The shuffling of feet, flapping of windblown awnings, and shriek of birds fighting over dropped scraps.


    Sounds.  Other people made so many of them.  She made so few.  But, she never felt melancholy over what she¡¯d lost, only anger.  The Galactic Empire took and took, a greedy machine consuming everything in its way.  It took her voice.  It took Rowan¡¯s parents.  It took Zara from her people.  Nothing that existed remained safe from the hungry mouth of the Galactic Empire.  Good people, kind and generous, honorable and righteous, could not fight against something so massive and pervasive that it could easily be compared to a gravitational singularity.  A black hole.  None could escape its grasp.  Most would find the situation hopeless and would mourn a fate they could not hope to avoid.  Not Trisla.  Without the ability to scream or shriek or wail in hopelessness, she would instead vibrate the universe in another way.  Her actions would challenge the inevitability of the Galactic Empire¡¯s expansion and authority.  They would hear her, despite the voice they stole, and they would tremble.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Come Rigsby.  I¡¯m going to power you off for a bit.  Ladies don¡¯t like cameras in their powder rooms.¡±


    Trisla plucked the drone out of the air before it could even finish translating her signing.  Turning it off, she placed it into the large satchel she¡¯d brought along for carrying her shopping.  With the drone no longer watching her every move, she turned and moved down a side street, this one less packed, but still containing a couple of less-impressive market stalls and some cheaper food stands.  A second turn, and then a third, brought Trisla to an opening away from the center of Ebonrue¡¯s commerce and into a run down neighborhood containing the residences of Ebonrue¡¯s poorer citizens.  Poor, but respectable.  Here lived the servants merchants, pedalcab drivers, and gardeners.  She walked past these to an even less savory neighborhood, the kind of area often inhabited by the forgotten and the lost, criminals and the insane.  The entire place was deserted, as everyone had gone to the Great Bazaar to make money in whatever ways they could.


    The house she ducked into had been deserted since they¡¯d come to Ebonrue.  A bright orange sign was stapled to the door, once reading ¡®condemned¡¯, though the end had been torn off by someone, or something, leaving it to actually say just ¡®condem¡¯.  The unlocked door creaked as she stepped inside, revealing a house littered with crumbling furniture and clothing so long trampled underfoot that the original colors had given way to grays and browns.  In one spot, a piece of the ceiling had given way, and now a section of insulation hung precariously from a beam, like a strange fluffy criminal swinging from an unseen noose.  The smell of mold and urine hung in the air.


    ¡°Good to see you survived the fire,¡± a male voice said.


    Trisla turned the corner into a long-abandoned bedroom which still contained most of a bed filling it.  Neithan sat on the edge of it, his long legs stretched out almost far enough for the toes of his boots to nearly touch the wall.  He turned at the waist to peer at her, but likely finding the position uncomfortable, stood.  Dressed as one of the many itinerant street performers that would make their way into Ebonrue during the Great Bazaar, he wore colorful diamond-patterned tights beneath a long orange tunic.  His jaunty hat did not match any of it.


    ¡°Why did you attack the Night Blossom Festival?  Lady Zarathenia could have been killed,¡± Trisla signed, her hard gaze making the rest of her expression, hidden beneath her veil, unnecessary.  ¡°You should have let me know!  I could have kept her from¡­¡±


    Neithan held up both hands.  ¡°No, no, no.  We weren¡¯t behind that.  I swear to you, the Spiral Alliance would never¡­¡±


    ¡°Then who?¡±


    ¡°War hawks,¡± Neithan said, shifting his weight.  A piece of broken glass crunched under his boot.  ¡°There are elements within the Emperor¡¯s inner circle who could profit greatly from a large-scale war with the Spiral Alliance.  How else do you think such a thing could be achieved?¡±


    Trisla frowned, a hidden gesture since all but her eyes were covered by the veil.  Her signing became hesitant.  She knew the answer to her next question, and yet did not want to know,  ¡°Will they try again?¡±


    ¡°The War Hawks?  Almost certainly.  The stability of the Emperor¡¯s reign chokes their ability to make ambitious political moves.  War would bring chaos they could exploit.  We¡¯re trying to get someone into their ranks to feed information to the Spiral Alliance, but it¡¯s not been easy.¡±  Neithan took a few balls out of his pockets and began to juggle absently as he spoke.  ¡°Anyway, this may be the last time we can easily meet.  I¡¯ll have to find some other way to contact you.¡±


    ¡°What?  Why?¡±


    Neithan caught each of the three balls in one hand, one after another.  With his other hand, he reached into a pocket and rooted around.  What he pulled out appeared to be a blank sheet of paper.  It wasn¡¯t.  She pressed a finger to the bottom right-hand corner, unlocking it with her fingerprint, and the text stored in the thin datasheet revealed itself.  Trisla read through the text in a hurry, the shock visible on what little of her face could be seen.


    She handed the datasheet back to Neithan.  ¡°Is this true?  Are you sure?¡±


    He watched her signing and immediately nodded.  ¡°Our sources have verified it.¡±  Now it was Neithan¡¯s turn to press his finger to the datasheet, this time to the bottom left.  With the application of his fingerprint, the page began to turn black from a chemical reaction designed to destroy the secret information.  He dropped it on the ground and they both watched as it dissolved into ash.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Trisla signed, ¡°I will continue to be loyal to our mission, even if that comes to pass.  It doesn¡¯t change what needs to happen, only the timeline in which it will be done.  However¡­¡±


    Neithan raised an eyebrow and waited.


    ¡°I need you to do something for me,¡± Trisla continued, moving to the window to stare out at the least savory part of Ebonrue, ¡°I need you to get me whatever you can on Lady Astrid Astor.¡±


    ~*~*~*~*~*~


    When she returned to the Great Bazaar and released Rigsby back into the air, Trisla felt as if a great weight had been placed upon her shoulders.  Without the ability to regularly contact the Spiral Alliance, everything would become far more uncertain, far more difficult.  She hadn¡¯t thought the danger of being on Viverides could increase exponentially, but if Neithan was right¡­


    ¡°Oh, Miss Trisla.  You¡¯ve got a translator drone, I see.  Is it proving helpful?  My brother had one and he hated it.¡±


    Trisla hadn¡¯t realized that she¡¯d drifted to Madame Juniper¡¯s vegetable stall.  She tended to buy from Madame Juniper because the woman understood Galactic Sign Language due to her elder brother being deaf.  She shook herself from her dark reverie, putting on an instant smile so that she could greet Madame Juniper.  ¡°It¡¯s taking a bit of getting used to.  Especially with the voice being so deep and startling.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s understandable.  My grandmother said that in her great-grandmother¡¯s time, they used to be more common for everyone before Galactic was basically spoken everywhere.  Can you imagine?  It must have made communication between the planets so much more difficult.  Anyway¡­¡±  Madame Juniper motioned to her wares with a flourish of her hand.  ¡°What can I get you today?  I¡¯ve got some Xibanese carrots on sale, the purple ones.  I thought they wouldn¡¯t grow here on Viverides, but boy was I wrong.  I ended up with twice as much as I¡¯d reckoned.¡±


    With a polite smile, Trisla moved to the left a bit to examine the Xibanese carrots.  If she were going back to Begonia House, she¡¯d almost certainly have purchased them.  But, since she didn¡¯t want to impose on Madame Marie¡¯s kitchen, she had no real reason to buy anything.  Trisla picked up one carrot, then another absently as the sounds and smells of the Great Bazaar became washed over her like an ocean wave.  She felt, for a moment, as if she might drown in the enormity of the situation.


    ¡°Miss Trisla?¡±


    The voice had not come from Madame Juniper, who had moved away to sell onions to an old man.  Trisla turned to find Tython standing nearby, the flaming red hair standing out even among the bright colors of the Bazaar¡¯s many wares.  Although she¡¯d long since removed her veil, the fact that he recognized her with her hair down, and in her kaftan surprised her.


    Trisla put down the carrots. ¡°Mr. Tython.  Good afternoon.¡±


    The translation coming from Rigsby momentarily appeared to startle Tython slightly.  He peered at the drone for several seconds, the dissonance of being addressed by a robot with a male voice after speaking to Trisla obviously causing him brief mental distress.  It didn¡¯t take long for him to recover, and he looked again at Trisla, ¡°Boy howdy, that gave me a start.¡±


    ¡°I call him Rigsby.¡±


    ¡°Looks like a Rigby, I ¡®spose.¡±


    As Tython looked at the drone, Trisla realized that Tython was wearing an understated navy blue uniform with a number of patches on the arms and a metal badge on the chest.  The outfit wasn¡¯t Korkudai, but looked to have an official nature.  She squinted at the badge, which confirmed her suspicion.  ¡°Is that not a fire brigade uniform, Mr. Tython?¡±


    ¡°Indeed so, Miss Trisla!¡±  Tython puffed up a bit, looking proud of the announcement.  ¡°I¡¯ve been released from my duties as a concubine, an¡¯ I¡¯ve decided to return to my prior profession.  It¡¯s right nice.  They give you a bed at the station an¡¯ pond¡¯rous amounts of victuals.  Though, I doubt it could possibly be as good as the food you make, Miss Trisla.  I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re quite a legendary chef an¡¯ such.¡±


    ¡°I thought your people were miners, Mr. Tython.¡±


    ¡°Welp, my people are, but¡­¡±  He took off his wide-brimmed felt hat, the only part of his outfit that likely didn¡¯t get assigned by the fire brigade.  ¡°...I trained to fight fires.  They¡¯re a right nuisance in the mines, on account of all the chemicals and the hazard of them eatin¡¯ all the oxygen and whatnot.¡±


    Trisla stepped away from the vegetable stand, allowing another customer to inspect the carrots at their leisure. ¡°I suppose that makes sense.¡±  She tried not to look at the feather-like burn mark that swept across his face, now possibly understanding more about the origin of it.  ¡°Say, Mr. Tython, would you have time to accompany me on some errands this afternoon?  Please don¡¯t put yourself out if you don¡¯t, but I could really use your input on a few things.¡±


    The joyous smile that spread across Tython¡¯s face drove away much of the worry and darkness that had fallen upon Trisla just hours before.  ¡°¡®Course, Miss Trisla.  I¡¯d be most honored.¡±