I had oriented the Ocean Dining Room to the south-west, to take advantage of the sunsets. Kosandion’s suite now faced directly south, giving him a beautiful view. I provided him with long balcony rising high above the water and equipped it with an array of patio furniture. He was only a hundred yards from the Ocean Dining Room, but an outcropping of rock hid it from his view, assuring his privacy.
I had installed a carefully calibrated barrier that put an impenetrable invisible wall along the balcony’s perimeter. It shifted into a slightly less protective mode when anyone entered the balcony, so Kosandion got the sea breeze and sounds but not the monsters that hunted within the cool orange depths. Gertrude Hunt was swimming in alien beings’ energy, like a glutton at a cake contest, and maintaining the barrier resulted in minimal drain.
Kosandion was on the balcony now, sitting in a comfortable chair with a breakfast spread on a patio table before him. The sun had risen above the jagged dark peaks on the horizon. The Sovereign watched the ocean, tracking a massive sea serpent as it slid under the surface, its spines the only warning to its potential prey.
His inner circle arranged themselves around him. Resven rested in a large, padded chair in front of me and to my right. Miralitt sat on my left, one leg over the other, as close to the transparent rail as she could get. Between them, in an identical chair, perched Orata, Kosandion’s head of PR, although that was likely an inadequate title considering her duties and their importance. She had come through the portal this morning to deliver the voting results and would go back before the day officially started. Orata was curvy, young, and fashionable, with a purple tint to her medium-toned skin and silver-blue hair, and every time I looked at her, I thought of Prince Lotor from the Voltron anime.
In my defense, I had woken up twice last night, one time because the Dushegubs had climbed onto each other trying to escape the Pit and the other because the Murder Beaks had a fight, and I had to treat the injured parties while Sean confined all of them to separate cells within their flock arena. I could’ve used a couple more hours.
“The ratings are as follows,” Orata announced, barely glancing at the holographic screen in front of her. “Behoun is in the lead with ten points over their closest competitor.”
Team Smiles, the ones with the enthusiastic female candidate whose name I kept forgetting. They represented Behoun, the fourth planet added to the Dominion.
“The people like Amphie,” Resven said. “They like her education and pedigree.”
Orata nodded. “Indeed. They especially like her enthusiasm. Key words mentioned most are earnest, relatable, and attractive. She’s trending well with parents.”
“A nice girl. The kind you take home to meet the family,” Kosandion murmured. “A safe choice.”
He looked away from the sea serpent and pondered his plate. I wasn’t the only one who had noticed his love of the ocean. Orro had outdone himself. I didn’t know you could even make a pancake in the shape of an oyster shell and turn an egg into a pearl within it.
“Your breakfast is getting cold, Letero,” Miralitt murmured.
Kosandion gave his plate a mournful look. “It’s almost too pretty to eat.”
“You need to keep up your strength.” Miralitt held his gaze, making it clear that she wouldn’t drop it until he took a bite.
Kosandion picked up a delicate two-tined fork and tried a small piece of the pancake. “Delicious. Continue.”
“In second place, Prysen Ol with the Kai,” Orata said. “The people view him as intelligent, dignified, and wise. He also trends well with parents. They feel he would be a patient and attentive father. His lowest rankings are in the under-twenty-five demographic. They find him boring.”
Kosandion smiled. “Splendid. We should just marry those two to each other in a glorious spectacle of a wedding. Nearly every soul in the Dominion would be thrilled.”
Resven sighed. “Letero, I implore you to take this seriously.”
“I do. Think of the joy it would bring my people. Not to mention the ratings bonanza.”
Orata’s dark eyes sparkled.
“No,” Resven told her.
“You’re no fun,” Orata murmured.
“We are not here for fun,” Resven said. “We’re here to choose the parent of an heir and the spouse of the Sovereign. This person will have an impact on our society for decades to come. Please concentrate on the task at hand.”
Orata gave him a pointed look. “In third place, Lady Wexyn.” She had punctuated Lady Wexyn to make sure it sank in.
Resven jerked, startled. “How? Why?”
“The people find her endearing. She’s unpredictable and fun to watch. Those are direct quotes.”
“That woman is chaos personified. ‘Your Majesty’？ Your Majesty! How many times have I gone over the proper forms of address? Letero Kolivion or Your Supremacy. How hard is it to remember?”
“I’m sure she does it just to spite you,” Miralitt said.
“She doesn’t have the presence of mind. Have you looked into her eyes? They are as clear as the summer sky. Not a cloud of thought in sight.”
“The people think she is ‘cute,’ ‘funny,’ and ‘breath of fresh air,’” Orata announced.
“ ‘Breath of fresh air’？ She’s a fart at a funeral.” Resven realized what came out of his mouth and caught himself. “My apologies.”
Kosandion waved them on.
“In fourth place, the otrokar,” Orata said.
“Surkar, son of Grast and Ulde,” Kosandion said.
“Yes,” Orata confirmed.
Miralitt frowned.
“Key words?” Kosandion asked.
“Strong, decisive, and powerful.”
“Well, he is all of those things,” Kosandion agreed.
“His support among people 30 and under is 46% percent,” Orata continued. “62% of people 20 and under are interested in civil and military service.”
Resven raised his eyebrows.
Kosandion smiled again. “They see me as soft.”
Orata cleared her throat. “Yes, Letero. The dominant chatter in the forums is that you are too civilized, and that the Dominion would benefit from ‘warrior blood.’ The Conqueror faction is making their usual noises about getting back to our roots.”
“Have they forgotten the Assassination War?” Resven growled.
The Assassination War was a bloody conflict that was sparked by Caldenia’s murdering her brother. I was sixteen, in my junior year of high school. By Earth’s biological metrics, Kosandion was only about five years older than me. He would’ve been around twenty-one. While physically an adult, socially he would’ve been considered a “youth,” an equivalent to a human fifteen-year-old. Many factions in the Dominion thought he was unfit to lead. He proved them wrong.
“Most of the younger hotheads were children when that war took place,” Miralitt said. “Our people know you are a gifted commander. However…”
“The age of peace and prosperity our population enjoys thanks to your wise rule hasn’t provided you with many opportunities to showcase your warrior side,” Orata finished.
Smooth.