The vampire and the otrokar stared at me. Cookie smiled into his whiskers. He hadn’t said a word this entire time. He just listened.
“Eventually, a chunk of the population will snap in self-defense, and someone will murder the Sovereign,” I finished.
Tomato nodded. “We’ve watched it happen. It is the same for the Six Star Supremacy, the Dominion’s sister empire.”
The first time I had seen the collective empathy of the Dominion in action, I was sixteen years old. I had decided I wanted to go to college, and that morning I went to take my SATs. I had told my family in advance. I scheduled it. I paid for it. Everyone agreed to let me be. It should’ve been a quiet morning. The inn had about a hundred visitors. Klaus and Michael were off on a fishing trip with Dad. Maud and Mom were at home, holding the fort, and between the two of them, they didn’t need my help with anything.
When I finished and turned my phone back on, I had three messages from Mom telling me to get home as soon as I could. I felt so annoyed. My family treated my entire high school adventure like it was a hobby or a fad. Something I did that wouldn’t really matter. Meanwhile, in school, every teacher and coach preached college nonstop. You went to college, or you were a loser.
I had studied my ass off for those exams. I didn’t even get a good luck or how’d it go?
I got home, sensed my mom in our garden, went there, and when I stepped outside, into my carefully nurtured botanical wonderland, I smelled this terrible bitter smoke. We were hosting a large group from the Dominion and the Six Star Supremacy. They were an extended family traveling on a sightseeing trip to celebrate their reunion. That morning, while I took my exams, they had set their hair and clothes on fire.
I walked through the garden among people smeared with ash, moaning and weeping, some catatonic, rocking back and forth, until I found my mother. Mom could handle any emergency the universe chose to throw at her, but that morning, she stood there, glassy-eyed, unable to stop their suffering.
It was the day Caldenia murdered Kosandion’s father.
“Kosandion isn’t just trying to score points,” I said. “By involving the whole nation in his choice of a spouse, he is letting them feel like they matter. Even if their preferred candidate doesn’t make it to the altar, their opinion still counted. They were engaged, they were given a voice, and they were a part of it.”
“It goes deeper than that,” Caldenia said behind me.
She had been heading our way for a bit now. I wasn’t sure if she was looking for me or if she was just hungry. Apparently, she was looking for me.
The observers turned to her.
“Kosandion will choose his spouse, and he will make sure the Dominion feels it is also their choice. They will be loyal to that person because they have chosen them, and when the child is born, they will transfer that loyalty to Kosandion’s heir. That child will be beloved and cherished, and the entire Dominion will be invested in their future. That is how dynasties persist and thrive.”
Wow.
Caldenia looked at me. “If I could have a word?”
I rose. “Of course, Your Grace.”
12
When we last left Dina and Sean, the introduction ceremony had finished and everyone enjoyed one of Orro’s sumptuous dinners. Dina reminisced on the complete emotional breakdown the Dominion guests experienced at her parents’ inn when they learned that Caldenia murdered her brother, Kosandion’s father. The dinner ended with Her Grace wanting to have “a word” with Dina. Uh-oh…
“I wish to visit Lady Wexyn.”
Not the word I expected. I had separated us by a soundproof partition, so I could still keep an eye on the diners, and I had to keep my expression calm, while Her Grace turned her back on them probably so they couldn’t read her lips.
“May I ask why?”
“I wish to have a chat.”
Her face told me that the only way to get more would be to honor her request and tag along. Unfortunately, I still had a busy dining hall to babysit.
“One moment.”
I checked the other two dining halls. Sean’s was still half full, but Tony was done, and he was moving my way. A moment and he came around the corner. I dropped the partition and approached him.
“Would you mind looking after this crowd while I run a quick errand?”
He gave me a smile. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Thank you.” I turned to Caldenia. “I will take you to Lady Wexyn, Your Grace. She may choose to not see you, and as you know, we guard the privacy of our guests.”
“She will see me,” Caldenia said.
And that didn’t sound ominous. Not at all.
We strolled out of the dining hall and back into the Grand ballroom. The sun was setting, and as we walked, the chamber transitioned from day to night, mimicking the sunset at the Capital. The floor and walls began to darken, steadily gaining a blue tint. Astronomical symbols of the Dominion shifted to sunset-orange. On the left side, where the sky dimmed, a faint edge of the purple moon slipped into view, delicate and pale as if cut from tulle. It would grow solid by the time we came back.
Crossing the Grand Ballroom took some time. We passed into a long hallway interrupted by arched floor to ceiling windows showing a projected view of Texas sunset over the never-ending fields.
“You could simply do that thing you do,” Caldenia waved her hand dismissively. “Instead of making us walk all the way.”
“But then how would we clear the air, Your Grace?”
Caldenia rolled her eyes.
“Are the decorations to your liking?”
“They’re adequate. Barely.”
We kept walking. If I had to make this trip longer to accomplish this conversation, I would “do that thing” I did. We would keep walking until both of us said what we had to say.
“You should have told me,” Caldenia said.
“I tried.”
“You should have tried harder.”
Sometimes the best defense is no defense at all. “You’re absolutely right, Your Grace. It’s my fault. I apologize.”
Caldenia glanced at me. If looks could cut, I’d have a big gash right between my eyes.
“Your insincere show of meekness will not pacify me.”
“Of course not.”
Caldenia stopped.
“Are you tired, Your Grace? Would you like a chair to rest in for a moment?”
“The audacity!”
I simply waited.
“I had no idea you had it in you.”
“I didn’t. Not always, but I had a very good teacher.”
Caldenia glared at me. “Yes, you did. And don’t you forget it.”
We resumed walking. She knew perfectly well that to tell her about the Sovereign, I would have had to cross the personal boundaries she had put in place. She would pardon me for respecting her wishes, but she would have never forgiven me for trampling on her freedom.
A part of her must’ve known. The description of the spousal selection had to have sounded familiar, so she must’ve suspected it and made a conscious or subconscious effort to avoid it. Caldenia was both perceptive and introspective. Her mind was as sharp as her teeth.
“Do you have any idea how much trouble this entire affair will bring?”
“Yes.”