She almost never wore anything like that. In fact, I was sure these were the only jeans she owned, because I bought them for her years ago when she came to the inn, and I had never seen them since. Even when she visited with her friends from the subdivision across the street, she usually chose a dress. She must’ve felt the rugged nature of the jeans would make the right statement to Surkar.
To her left, Surkar wore a kilt, soft boots, and nothing else, letting the light of the fire highlight what he believed to be the galaxy’s best chest. Sean’s was better.
Caldenia’s tone was sardonic and slightly bitter. “…His father was the same. Let’s just say that their deductive powers leave much to be desired. Some people simply must be confronted with the obvious.”
Surkar nodded, his face thoughtful. The two of them were completely at ease, two conspirators murmuring over the fire.
Lingering here any longer would be eavesdropping.
“Your Grace,” I said.
Surkar jerked. That’s right, fear my stealthy ways.
“Alas, my babysitter has arrived.” Caldenia set her cup down. “I suppose you’ve come to fetch me to my rooms?”
“You’re free to access all common areas of the inn at any time, Your Grace. However, that privilege doesn’t extend to the private rooms of other guests.”
“She was invited,” Surkar said, his voice hard.
“Be that as it may, visiting hours are over for everyone’s safety.”
“She is welcome to stay as long as she wishes,” the otrokar said.
“Don’t fuss, dear. I will go.” Caldenia rose. “Rules are rules, after all. I’ll leave you with this parting thought: strength begets strength. If you desire something, make it known. Reach out and seize it.”
Surkar nodded as if he heard something profound. Caldenia, the Tony Robbins of the galaxy.
Her Grace fixed me with a look and sighed. “Lead the way.”
I pushed with my magic. A staircase sprouted from the balcony leading into the orchard. Caldenia took it. I followed her, dissolving the stairs behind us.
We walked down the flagstone path through the orchard gardens. The moon had hidden behind a cloud, and the darkness leeched colors from the plants, painting the flower beds in a dozen shades of black, charcoal, and hunter green. I sent a pulse down the path. Cream-colored globes ignited next to it, illuminating the stone just enough to see.
“Is my nephew awake?” Caldenia asked.
I checked. “Yes.”
She sighed. “I may have to speak to our lovely chef. Kosandion will sleep very little for the next few weeks. He will need enhanced nutrition.”
“Why?”
“Because of Odikas, of course.”
“I thought it was settled.” Kosandion already won.
She gave me a short laugh. “Oh no, my dear. Removing Odikas was only the opening salvo. Now the real fight begins.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Power abhors a vacuum. With Odikas gone, the members of his Conservative Alliance will scramble to climb onto his now-empty throne, shoving and kicking each other out of the way. This is a gambit years in the making. The boy planned it beautifully and executed it well, but now he must maneuver pieces on the game board to push the right candidate to the top without anyone realizing they have been manipulated.”
Oh.
“My money is on Senator Dulvia of Tar. She is aggressive and power-hungry. Of all of them, she wants it the most, yet she’s shrewd enough to realize that she is the least qualified for it. That sense of hidden inferiority is priceless. If she ascends, she’ll spend years stomping out any opposing factions in the conservative block. She will go after anyone brighter than her to destroy the competition before it has a chance to blossom into a threat. By the time she consolidates her power base, Kosandion will have everything in place to steer her in the direction of his choosing, and the Conservative Alliance overall will be weaker, less creative, and easier to handle. Dina, you have a strange expression on your face.”
“I’m relieved that I am who I am.”
“And not my niece?” Caldenia smiled.
“Yes.”
“You are a child of innkeepers. You were born into this life, and your every experience contributed to your education. By the time you reached adulthood, you were an expert innkeeper. Kosandion and I were born to be fit to rule well. I do not mean this in a pompous way of entitlement. I mean it as a statement of fact. We were genetically enhanced with a careful selection of traits that made us capable administrators and nuanced leaders. We were educated in the way of governance from the moment we opened our eyes. We are highly specialized, skilled workers, bred for the purpose of leading interstellar nations, and we have an added incentive of painful death in case of failure that drives us to excel.”
“The responsibility must be crushing.”
Caldenia sighed. “It is, at times. But then this is what we do. And let’s face it, tearing down your enemies is a great deal of fun. You are a picture of restraint, but a part of you enjoys flexing your power when the occasion requires. Kosandion is much the same. An embodiment of self-discipline and decorum until it’s time to stab and rip the still-beating heart out of the chest of his enemy. It’s just that his stabs take a great deal of work and much preparation.”
The boy planned it beautifully… There wasn’t just admiration in her voice. There was familial pride.
“I have some bad news for Kosandion,” I said.
Caldenia stopped. “How bad?”
I paused. We’d come to an intersection of several paths, where they joined into a round patio.
“Politically difficult.”
“Tell me.”
I did.
Midway through, Caldenia started pacing. It was a violent movement, fueled by rage. She’d picked up a small branch somewhere, about the width of my finger, and she flicked her thumbnail across it as she walked back and forth, slicing perfect little sections off with each slide of her thumb. She was like the proverbial caged tiger, flicking her tail, looking for an opening.
I finally finished.
“You must tell him now.”
“I was planning to tell him in the morning.”
She stopped and glared at me. “No. Now. The sooner he knows, the better. I realize you have no obligation to share this information, and your innkeeper’s duty is to let him rest, but it is a matter of his political survival. Do this for me, please.”
“Okay,” I told her.
“Right now.”
“Right now,” I promised. “Do you want to come?”
“No. It is best that I interact with him as little as possible. But tell him this: Olivio teseres tares. He will know what it means.”
I knocked on the door leading to the Sovereign’s quarters. Next to me Sean looked alert and fresh-faced, as if he’d had a full night of sleep instead of 30 minutes.
“Enter,” Kosandion called.
The door slid open, and we did. The Sovereign looked up from the transparent screen in front of him. Nothing changed in his face or posture, but somehow it became instantly clear that he knew an emergency had occurred and was ready for it.
Sean placed the data cube in front of him. I pulled two chairs out of the floor. We sat. A moment later the floor parted, and a small table grew like a mushroom, holding a carafe of coffee, three mugs, and an assortment of creamers and sugars.