Ranse, p.15
Ranse, page 15
My discomfort increases. “Zai didn’t come?”
“He has business elsewhere.”
“During a funeral for the emperor?” I don’t like this at all. “How many blades are assigned to the palace?”
“You’ll see them from your vantage point. I will be in the center alone—”
“I want to stand with you.”
He hesitates as if he was going to say something, and then a frown touches his brow. “From a security standpoint, heirs shouldn’t be positioned too close together.”
“Then you should be surrounded by guards, protected.”
“I am the empire, Ranse. The empire needs no one. I stand alone.”
I disagree. “So we’re low on blades and you want me to hang out by the High Command? Is that really a good idea?”
Erion mildly lifts a brow. “Try not to aggravate your neighbors.”
Allie looks over at me.
I already feel plenty aggravated. And I can see the worry in her eyes. Something is off here. Very, very off.
I move to her side. “I’m going to stand with the ambassadors.”
Erion partially turns away, then back. “What?”
“The farther I am from Orunfax, the less I’ll aggravate him.”
His lids half lower. “You’re the second heir now, Ranse. The more attention you draw to the things you care about, the more you endanger them. You should strive to be a fortress unto yourself.”
“Way ahead of you.” I lift my wrists, mimicking crossing them without actually letting them emerge. No need to worry the guards any more than they already are. “This fortress has plenty of defenses to keep the valuables in and enemies out.”
His brow softens for just a moment, and the ghost of a smile lightens his face.
“Emperor Erion.” Captain Ishula enters with two blades flanking her. “The ceremony grounds are ready. We finished the final security inspection.”
Just like that, his smile is gone. He looks more exhausted now than when he was awakened in the middle of sleep to chastise me at my nightclub. “Escort me.”
Her blades flank him.
He draws back with distrust.
The three pillars that are supposed to balance the empire—blades, emperor, and High Command—are dangerously out of balance.
This place where I’ve always come to for safety suddenly feels very unsafe. Allie’s engulfed in a cloth that gives her no protection. She looks small and vulnerable. Everything is unnatural and uncomfortable.
And yet at the last instant, Allie steps forward and says boldly, “I don’t want my planet moved.”
Erion had started to turn away. He turns back, measuring her with his gaze, then says, “We’ll talk.”
She bounces on the balls of her toes. “When?”
“When I’m emperor.” He exits with his guard.
Captain Ishula flicks her gaze at us, hard, and then follows.
Quiet murmurs linger in the much emptier antechamber.
Allie wipes her fingers on a cleaning cloth, turning back and forth to check her appearance in a reflective screen. Standing there in the bell-shaped gown with draping sleeves, she looks both much more vulnerable—as a real lesser—and yet also more regal. It’s a hard thing to describe.
But one thing is unmistakable.
Her mark is missing.
My teeth flex in my mouth.
I have a driving need to replace it, to tell the others who look at her with too much interest to step back, to give her space. She’s mine.
Vaier sidles up to me with a sideways grin. “You actually bit someone, and it’s not even another Arrisan.”
The laughter in his tone is the first familiar thing I’ve experienced since I arrive, and it’s very welcome. But I have to ask. “Are you imprisoned in the palace?”
“Imprisoned?” He peers around. “I don’t think so. Erion’s paranoid, but I can’t blame him.”
“We were pushed away by Orunfax’s lackeys in two different places.”
“Well, you are very disreputable.” He grins. “Biting a lesser? I didn’t even know it was possible. You love to tease Erion, but I don’t think you’ll ever top this surprise.”
“I didn’t plan this one.”
He laughs. “That makes it all the more impressive. Are you a genius mastermind or an accidental savant? The mystery around you grows.”
“All part of my plan…perhaps.” I grin.
Vaier laughs harder.
A little tension in my chest eases.
This time is hard, and we’re each dealing in our own ways. Erion has the weight of the empire on his shoulders. I want both my brothers to like Allie, and so far, they’re both open to the possibility. That’s a win.
I must be the only Arrisan to care about my blood siblings’ feelings, or to have a human that I want others to like.
The others who claimed human women—Zai, for example—have no one whose good opinion they care about. How free they must be. I have more in common with Allie than with almost any Arrisan in the empire.
I make introductions. “Despite the fact that Vaier laughs at my jokes, he’s actually the most levelheaded of us.”
His smile lingers in his eyes as he nods to Allie. “For your first trip to the palace, you’re doing remarkably well, but after your performance in Ranse’s nightclub, I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Ah.” She puts her hand on her chest. “You saw that?”
“I think Ranse may have ‘accidentally’ leaked it quite widely.”
“Oh…”
“I would love to have seen it live.”
I grin wider. “You want to shake up the funeral?”
“Erion would kill you.” Vaier’s only partially joking. “Sadly, I won’t be in the pavilion during the funeral.”
Another frisson of discomfort sizzles into my veins. “And how did you escape?”
“It’s standard practice to keep one heir separate after an assassination. The empire’s enemies become emboldened after one of them succeeds. I’ll be watching from a remote location.”
His security team motions for him to move.
“See you on the viewscreens.” He trots with them, polite and correct, and yet somehow also looking wiser, older. Has it been only three goras since I saw him as well? In another kortan, I won’t recognize my own brothers.
Allie and I follow the palace staff to the chamber where the ambassadors have gathered. They will be the last group onto the pavilion and the first group off.
Allie turns to me and takes a troubled breath. “Ranse—”
“Humana ambassador?” The ceremonial organizer waves. “Record your presence as your planet’s first representative.”
She lets out the rest of her breath without completing her thought, just gives me one look over her shoulder, and then her spicy fragrance, like my mark, is effaced by the rustling colors of the other ambassadors. She weaves between them, a single human without any protection, and she’s gone.
Nineteen
Ranse
Another twinge of discomfort squeezes me.
I weave between ambassadors and put her back in sight as she commemorates her visit. She’s framed by the entrance to the ceremonial pavilion, giant and cavernous and carved with heroic scenes. In the center rests the black funerary ship. My father’s casket is inside, along, perhaps, with the end of my youthful dependence. The light shines, pearlescent, from the subtle maroon of the viewscreen ceiling.
Beneath the ship is, of course, a bomb.
Just in case, after we launch his casket into untraveled space, he should happen to someday run into a Harsi ship. The bomb is set to sense their ships and detonate. He’ll have one last chance to serve the empire and destroy our greatest enemy. Even beyond death, he has one last chance to make a meaningful sacrifice.
Captain Ishula appears behind me. “You’d know about our security concerns if you joined the palace guards, Ranse.”
My chest twinges. It must be because I shared my old disappointment with Allie; the old dreams are fresher than they usually are. “I would, but my brother doesn’t want me too close.”
“Maybe he just needs to be convinced.”
“Or maybe”—I grin with my teeth—“he doesn’t want me any closer to the palace than the fourth ring because of something he read in an archive. You wouldn’t have any idea what that would be, would you? Captain?”
Her eyes focus on the distance, circle around to the ground, and then she stares me dead in the face. “Nope.”
Uh-huh. Sure.
“Then there you go. I have nothing but my brother’s word to rely upon, and it’s my duty to do so. You know how we both have our duties…?”
Her eyes narrow very slightly. “I can never tell if you’re dedicated to our empire or to yourself, and I don’t like that.”
“Thank you, because I don’t have that problem with you at all.” I pivot and stride to Allie. The aliens part for me. It’s been years since I’ve attended a formal ceremony, and Captain Ishula’s eyes bore into the back of my head, but when I glance back to where she was standing moments ago, she’s gone.
The ceremonial organizer motions for me to enter first.
I step out into the heavily guarded ceremonial center, a shield for Allie behind me, and descend the wide tiers to the low wall that separates the spectators from the pavilion.
This is the final farewell. The launching of the casket.
All eyes are on us.
Across the ring are the military units in formation, high commanders, and Orunfax.
Erion, in front of Orunfax and half a pavilion apart, happens to be lined up at this angle so their images almost overlay each other. Both move their gazes to me. One in anger, the other with determination. But in the moment their images cross, the ceremonial lights flash, and I can’t see clearly who has which expression.
Allie
Ranse is on edge.
I don’t blame him.
Hundreds of alien ambassadors and exponentially more Arrisans stand on shallow tiers in this massive ceremonial ring. A fraction have long silver hair or colorful skinsuits. These are clearly members of the noble houses that rule Arris Central.
The majority is a legion of troops arranged behind Orunfax.
If he wanted to bring Arris Central to its knees, all he’d have to do is snap. Right? That’s how overwhelming the numbers look to me.
The maroon skies go black. The white imperial symbol flashes like an old superhero light in one of my pre-invasion movies, piercing the darkness, and then Erion’s face fills the sky. It’s being cast simultaneously across every viewscreen in the empire.
“A great Arrisan has fallen.” Erion’s words carry across the pavilion and also come, with no delay, from the viewscreen overhead. “We honor Folian, emperor of grand providence, by listing his greatest accomplishments.”
I tune out after the first few “he crushed this rebellion” and “he conquered that planet” lines. My gaze wanders.
The Arrisans are all of medium build, with gray skin and black hair—with Ranse as a notable exception. The older nobles have white tufts speckled in their black heads.
In contrast to their monochrome appearance, the ambassador section is like a tiny field of wildflowers surrounded by concrete. We’re all colors, shapes, and sizes.
The Vanadisan ambassador is puffy and formal in his stiff white suit tied with colored streamers. I can pick out the green lizard-like skin of the Eruvisan ambassador, calm in comparison to the attackers earlier today, then some of the embassies: a tall Tsingvarisan, a blob-fish ambassador from Irybaris…
The accolades continue, droning on and on and on…
As in the rest of the palace, swords bristle from the distant walls. Even the black ship in the center of the pavilion has sharp edges.
The distant walls show more scenes of Arrisans attacking monsters. In one tile, an Arrisan figure picks up a jawbone, and in another, a kneecap. And the reliefs aren’t just random. They’re a repeating pattern, upside down and right side up, of ninety-six.
The mark of Amante and Grundi. The mark of my tattoo. Swirls and thorns in plain sight. Like the castle walls, this pavilion holds secrets.
And then, out of nowhere, a shiver crawls up the back of my spine.
The back of my neck prickles. My fingers twitch, and I take a step back, nearly bumping into my nearest neighbors. My heart increases speed. There’s a lot of distance between me and the nearest exit.
Ranse glances back at me, a frown on his face.
Erion’s still speaking, but something he said or how someone else reacted triggered a primal signal to leave.
The warning pulses with more urgency. Get out.
“And now we pay our final respects to that great emperor before sending his body for one final journey. May it fly across the universe and fight, one last time, the Harsi.” Ranse’s brother circles the pavilion, then stands before the black ship.
Overhead, the sky opens like a portal, first the palace layer, then five additional layers, all the way up until the stars twinkle in the tiny patch of blackness.
We’re standing at the base of the lollipop stick. This emergency tube goes all the way out, but we aren’t sucked into space, which is good. They must have an atmosphere veil over the top.
The noble houses step down, around the wall, and circle the casket, passing by Erion, and then the High Command leads the soldiers down and around. That takes a much longer time.
Get out, get out, get out.
I lean forward and murmur to Ranse, “Where’s Orunfax?”
Ranse studies the legion, including the High Commanders still positioned momentarily beside Erion. “He’s the head of his house,” he murmurs back at me. “He probably paid his respects with the nobles.”
“No, I was watching.”
He looks around more particularly.
Something lurks in the shadows. Danger burns like a magnifying glass focusing on this field.
The last soldier returns to her tier.
But there’s still a soldier underneath the ship. No, not a soldier. It’s an engineer, and someone else in the same type of uniform drags him out. He points behind him at the ship, arguing, but allows himself to be walked away.
The ceremony master gestures for Ranse to move forward, and the ambassadors on either side fall in behind him, separating us.
Anxiety squiggles in my stomach.
I bounce on the balls of my feet.
Behind the tiers, silhouetted by the exit, someone is arguing. A skinny, slumping Arrisan with long silver hair grabs onto the hem of—ah, there he is! Startled tingles shoot through me. It’s Orunfax!
Orunfax yanks his hem free, snarls at the sniveling silver-haired man, and gestures at the black ship. His gaze crosses mine. He blinks, surprised that I see him, and then his mouth starts to move.
The ambassadors behind me push me forward.
I stumble and look back.
Orunfax’s face holds a dark, satisfied smirk.
His legion has spread out a lot. They didn’t return to their neat formation, but are much farther back. Strings of them move around the back of the nobles, the back of us. Like a noose drawing around a prey.
Get out.
I break out of line, run to Ranse halfway across the pavilion, and catch his hand. It’s instinct. I don’t even mean to do it, and then I’m in front of him, panting.
He looks back at me wide-eyed. “Allie?”
“We have to get out. Now.”
Ranse
“Get out?” I repeat, as the world slows to a standstill and images flash.
Allie’s short nod.
My brother in front of us, his face contorting with anger as we disrupt his empire-wide broadcast of the formal ceremony.
Our clear route to the exits.
Soldiers dispersing around the pavilion. Why did they break formation? No matter. A legion is no match for a unit of blades.
Time speeds back up to normal. There’s no threat here. I must be misunderstanding her. “Where? Why?”
“I don’t know. Just…Orunfax looks too satisfied, and…” She points at the ship. “An engineer saw something underneath.”
“Who did? When?”
“And the blades are coming down to us.”
“Because we’ve stopped.”
“And Orunfax looks too satisfied,” she repeats, and I follow her motion up to an empty exit. A lone noble makes his way back into the pavilion. That dyed silver hair belongs to Arcturin, Orunfax’s sole heir, a simpering son.
“Orunfax could be satisfied for a few reasons,” I say.
She grimaces and shifts her weight from foot to foot.
The ambassadors pile up behind me.
Erion’s voice crackles in my implant, which I left open after trying it in the tunnels. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I turn, murmuring, “Allie senses danger.”
“Something my own security forces didn’t see?” He spits his words, covering his mouth so his rage isn’t transmitted across the viewscreen cameras pointed at him. “Quit this grandstanding and finish your duty.”
“Have the ship inspected again. What’s another cleg?”
“I have to show I’m ruling. That I have control. Everyone is watching.”
“Turn off the cameras, then.”
“There are rules.”
“Erion—”
“I am the emperor, not you.” He takes a few steps away from the ship, his focus on me. He’s going to grab my arm and yank me into place, in front of the cameras.
“You are the emperor,” I affirm. “You can do anything.”
He flinches. “This is the last thing I have to do before the confirmation hearing. Come and stand beside me as an heir.”
Ishula stops equidistant between us, and we form a triangle. She shows no alarm, just her normal watchfulness.
Allie takes a step back.
Her body is totally vulnerable in that Humana outfit.
Erion takes another step toward us. His imperial garb has protections below the neck but leaves his head vulnerable.
