Sweep of the Heart

26

Game Day, Game Day! Clap with us! Oond the oombole is our fish, if he can’t do it, you can only wish! Wooo! ::shakes the pompoms::

Doesn’t make sense, but it rhymes!

Four candidates stood on the stage, awaiting their scores. Oond floated, seemingly serene unless you were familiar with the oomboles and caught the slight shivering of his fins and erect tail. Amphie looked confident, her shoulders held back, her spine straight. Next to her Prysen Ol simply waited, his face a handsome blank. Lady Wexyn smiled, looking innocently clueless. During the break, her forest of golden hair decorations had been pruned to a single kokoshnik-like golden comb modestly studded with grape-sized purple jewels.

The arena fell silent. Orata was milking every last drop of drama out of the elimination, because the crowning of a rebel Gaheas king and near-complete destruction of a vampire house simply weren’t thrilling enough.

A large central screen, positioned above the exit to the portal, came on, showing a table with four rows and multiple columns labeled with Progress scoring categories: culture, medicine, science, etc. The final column was marked “Total Score.”

“It is my privilege and honor to now announce the results of the game,” Gaston proclaimed. “In third place…Oond of the oomboles!”

Oond’s name popped up in the third row down, as the scores in his columns populated. The oomboles broke into their version of applause, and I had to look away because the visual cacophony of waving fins and colors was worse than staring into a strobe light.

The side screens above the delegate sections displayed a detailed breakdown of his statistics and strategies. His population was happy, his economy was solid, if a little less diverse than it could’ve been, and the unique Witness military units he’d engineered had no trouble defending his realm. Oond had managed to go through the entire game without invading anyone. Instead of relying on brute force conquest, Oond would sidle up next to the settlement he wanted to annex and send his missionaries in. The missionaries would build schools, hospitals, and temples. They would employ people. He would spend a couple of generations indoctrinating the populace and then they would voluntarily join him.

However, he failed to account for the inherent tribalism of humanoid creatures. His mono-religion created room for bias and discrimination against the less or differently devout. As his science advanced, so did free thinking, because science hinged on questioning everything, and a god-king couldn’t afford to be questioned. He had to suppress certain branches of the natural sciences to keep civil unrest down, and that took a big chunk out of his score.

“In second place…” Gaston boomed, “…Prysen Ol of the Kai!”

Prysen Ol’s name appeared in the table on the big screen, in the second row from the top. His statistics and scores replaced Oond’s on the side screens, offering a detailed look into his strategy. The Kai didn’t do cheering. They stomped instead, driving their six limbs into the floor of their section in rhythmic approval.

Prysen had settled on a military republic with limited representation, citizen rights, and a focus on conquest. His nation quickly became a conquering juggernaut. Prysen didn’t get involved in large-scale wars. He found a target he knew he could take and blitzed it, expanding his nation one small bite at a time. For the first half of the game, he was always at war, yet it never disrupted the lives of ordinary citizens. Unlike Bestata, he had invested in arts, sciences, and trade. His capital city was a shining jewel of civilization.

However, he also relied on slave labor, and once he exhausted the supply of the barbarian settlements in his immediate vicinity, that source of free workers dried up. Shifting to a paid work force proved costly and difficult. Inflation combined with labor shortages gave rise to corruption and tax avoidance. Cracks began to appear in the colossus’ massive legs, and his two failed attempts to break through Nycati’s monstrous fortifications only widened them. Still, his score was 62 points higher than Oond’s.

The two women remaining on stage couldn’t have looked any different. Amphie stood ramrod-straight, stone-faced, looking like a sword someone thrust into the floor. She kept touching the heavy silver necklace around her neck, stroking it as if it were a talisman. Lady Wexyn was smiling at Kosandion. He watched her, his face impassive. She gave him a little wink.

“At the top of the leaderboard, with an impressive score a full 107 points higher than her closest rival…” Gaston said.

The pause stretched.

And stretched.

And stretched…

“Lady Wexyn of the Temple of Desire!”

Amphie stumbled back half a step. In the Temple’s section, Lady Wexyn’s entourage pulled off their veils and waved them around, flashing half of the galaxy.

Lady Wexyn’s scores filled the screens, her name glowing with golden light at the very top of the table. She reigned supreme. She had successfully transitioned to a monarchy with a democratically elected legislative body. She instituted meritocracy, allowing surfacing talents to rise, and guaranteed freedom of religion, organizing the representatives of various sects into a “spiritual council” so they could give her sage advice and squabble in person rather than through their followers. She redirected harmful tribalism by developing organized sports.

Her trade network was superb. She had instituted a policy that offered additional rewards for discoveries, so not only did her caravans bring back a variety of goods, but they also learned of new technologies and cultures and then delivered that knowledge back to their homeland to collect a hefty payout.

Despite staying away from large conflicts, she had a robust military. She had allowed one of the barbarian settlements to flourish into a 3-city civilization, and when she built new military units, she would send them to the border with that tri-city state, to repel their raids and carry out small invasions, always stopping short of conquering or debilitating the enemy. Once her military units had been seasoned in those wars, she sent them with the caravans as guards. Her people were prosperous, healthy, happy, and proud to belong to her nation.

“That girl is her mother’s daughter,” Caldenia murmured.

I looked at her.

“Her mother always planned long-term. She does as well. It is a common belief that one cannot build a foundation for a successful society in Progress without going through at least a brief period of slavery in the early stages of the game. When the civilization is in its infancy, the wars with small settlements provide a steady stream of captives, the level of technology and education is low, and large fortifications and a steady food supply are critical. Slavery is the most efficient answer.”

“Slavery should never be the answer.”

“Wexyn shares your view. She sidestepped it with her tiered citizenship system. It requires a very deep understanding of the game. Only one other high-profile player employed this strategy, and he could only make it work half of the time.”

“Who was he?”

Caldenia pursed her lips. “Kosandion’s father.”

Oh. Her entire strategy was a tribute. As obsessed as the Dominion was with this game, they wouldn’t miss it. Kosandion wouldn’t miss it either.

I glanced at Kosandion. He was studying the screen, seemingly deeply immersed in it.

“Unlike some, she has talent.” Caldenia stared at Amphie as if she were a worm. “A poor showing for the Dominion.”

“And the last of the four is Amphie of Behoun!”

Amphie’ s name appeared in the bottom row. She had the foundation for a successful state, but the war with Bestata had drained every bit of wealth from her coffers and demoralized her population. She had beaten Bestata by 24 points on the strength of her cultural achievements but lost to Oond by 7. She was staring at the screens now with a kind of strange slack expression.

“This is the non-interfering part, I’m guessing,” Sean murmured through the earpiece.

My pulse sped up. “Keep him alive, please.”

“Dina,” Her Grace said, urgency vibrating in her voice. “Whatever is about to happen will either weaken Kosandion’s position or make it uncontestable. If you resolve it for him, you will take away his victory. Promise me.”

“What if he dies?”

“Then he’s not fit to sit on that throne.”

Gertrude Hunt and I were bound. Losing the inn would rip out my heart. But I would still have Sean. I loved him more than anything. Caldenia loved her nephew. For his safety, she had sacrificed everything but her life, and even that was barely kept and had been forever changed. Kosandion knew an assassin was after him. He must have made arrangements, because he had reached out to the Innkeeper Assembly in advance. Caldenia wouldn’t risk his life unless she had confidence in his preparations.

It went against everything I was taught.

But Sean was with Kosandion. The small mountain supporting the throne was basically a triangle set on its side, with the slope facing the stage. The top of the triangle, where the throne was placed, was 20 feet above the stage. The bottom of the triangle, just like the bottom of the stage, was hidden in my fake clouds. Horizontally, 15 feet of clear space separated the stage from the slope. An attacker would have to clear these 15 feet, then run up the 30-foot-long slope, bypassing both Resven and Miralitt, and only then would they be within striking distance. That would give both Sean and Kosandion all the time in the world to prepare.

“Do this for me, and I will never forget it,” Caldenia said. “I’ve spent years planning to secure him on his throne. Please don’t let it fall apart now.”

She said things like that a lot lately. “Fine. I will sit on my hands.”

I hoped I wouldn’t regret it.

Caldenia took my hand, squeezed, and let go.

Wow.

“I lost,” Amphie said, her microphone-amplified voice echoing across the arena. “I lost to a fish.”

That was uncalled for.

Prysen Ol was looking at Amphie. She turned her head slowly. Their stares connected.

The philosopher sprinted across the stage toward the small mountain, his eyes fixed on Kosandion on his throne.

In the observers’ section six seats away from me, Tomato jumped to his feet and vomited a pearlescent orb the size of a basketball. The orb streaked toward the throne.

I clamped the green-bear-alien into a vise of Gertrude Hunt’s roots. They couldn’t blame me for securing him. He was an active danger to the observers.

Prysen Ol leaped. He didn’t jump, he flew as if he had wings, shooting a full thirty feet up toward the Sovereign in a sharp diagonal line. A human being could not do this.

Sean activated a barrier around the Kai section.

Prysen reached the maximum height and streaked through the air toward Kosandion on a collision course with the orb. Was this levitation? What the hell was this? I could just snatch him right out of the air… Argh!

Prysen’s right hand snapped out toward the orb. His fingers touched it, and the orb popped like a soap bubble, releasing a coiled whip. Before it could fall, Prysen snatched it out of the air and swung it. The whip whistled, spinning in a wide arc crackling with red lightning.

A whip-sword. Made not out of leather, rubber, or paracord, but of razor-sharp metallic segments connected by a glowing monofilament. Released, it was a 20-foot whip that could behead a human being in a single snap. Retracted, it became a 4-foot sword, the segments fitted together into a flexible blade.

Time slowed. Prysen was still in mid-air, defying the limits of human bodies and gravity and flying toward Kosandion in a slowly descending trajectory. The whip-sword sliced in a devastating strike. He was aiming at Kosandion’s head.

The bladed segments whined as the whip completed its circle. Kosandion saw it coming but made no move to avoid it.

Lady Wexyn dashed to the edge of the stage, shot into the air like a bullet, and pulled a dagger from her cleavage. Prysen Ol never saw her coming. She caught him from behind, wrapping one arm around his neck like a lover, and drove the dagger between his shoulder blades.

Prysen jerked back, shock twisting his face. The end of the whip quivered, slicing a foot short of the Sovereign’s nose. Kosandion observed it with mild interest, as if it were a random curiosity.

Lady Wexyn hurled Prysen Ol away from the mountain. He hurtled through the air, spun, twisting his body as he fell, and landed on the balls of his feet near the center of the stage. The knife was still embedded in his back. Bright red blood spread through his robes.

Lady Wexyn floated down and landed near the edge of the stage, her back to the throne mountain, blocking the way to Kosandion. It had to be a technologically assisted jump. Gravity didn’t make exceptions.

Prysen Ol pulled a syringe out of his robes with his left hand and stabbed it into his thigh.

Lady Wexyn took a step toward him. There was nothing sweet or coquettish about her face now. She looked like Cyanide might have when she hunted her prey.

“Curse it! I’ll do it myself!” Amphie snarled.

Her necklace melted, sliding under her gown. The liquid metal slithered out of her short sleeves, down her arms, coated her hands, and hardened into four-inch claws.

She dashed forward, ridiculously fast.

Sean and I simultaneously sealed the Behoun’s section and sank the delegates into the floor up to their armpits.

Lady Wexyn glided sideways on an intercept course. Amphie raked at her with her new claws. Lady Wexyn caught Amphie’s right wrist with her right hand, jerked her forward, moving with her opponent’s momentum and pulling her arm straight, and twisted the arm elbow up. Amphie gasped. Lady Wexyn drove the heel of her left palm into Amphie’s elbow.

The arm crunched with a dry pop. Amphie cried out.

Lady Wexyn let go of the ruined arm, spun behind Amphie, grabbed her other wrist with both hands, pulled her to the ground, as if Amphie weighed nothing, dropped to one knee, and broke Amphie’s left arm over it. The entire fight was over in two breaths.

“Goddess preserve us,” Karat whispered.

“Kosandion,” Dagorkun said.

Karat nodded.

Oh. Lady Wexyn had echoed Kosandion’s fight with Surkar. Same tactic: grab the wrist, pull the opponent forward, disable the arm. Except she didn’t stop with one arm the way he had done.

Amphie laid on her back and howled in pain. The Behoun delegation screamed with her, a chorus to her suffering.

Oond froze in his habitat and slowly turned upside down, his fins limp.

“Oombole down!” Sean called out through the earpiece.

“It’s okay, he just fainted.”

Lady Wexyn stepped over Amphie and stalked toward Prysen Ol. He bared his teeth in a grimace and snapped his whip-sword at her. The segmented blades pierced the air, ready to rend. Lady Wexyn sidestepped, and the whip sliced through the stage, scoring the stone.

Lady Wexyn pulled the golden comb out of her hair.

Prysen Ol swung again, sending the whip in a devastating horizontal curve.

Lady Wexyn didn’t try to evade.

The whip-blade connected. The whip-sword should have cut her in half, but somehow, she was still standing, the whip fully extended between the two of them.

“The hair comb!” Dagorkun spat out in surprise.

She had caught the filament of the whip-sword between the teeth of her comb.

Prysen jerked the whip back. The filament snapped, spraying half of its segments onto the ground. Prysen Ol backed away and flicked his damaged whip. The remaining segments slid together, forming a blade.

Lady Wexyn crouched, elegant as if dancing, laid the comb down, and picked up a single segment.

Prysen Ol watched, focused on her every move.

She held the segment between her thumb and forefinger, clamping it across its blunt spine, showed it to Prysen Ol, straightened, and started forward again, unhurried, relentless, unscathed.

He walked toward her, light on his feet despite the knife in his back and the trail of his blood following him. They watched each other as they moved, each step, each minute shift in weight deliberate and calculated.

Sophie, the ruler of her planet and George’s wife, once told me that she lived for the moment just before the clash, when both she and her opponent knew their lives hung in the balance. It was a world of possibilities, an infinite universe that shrunk to a single strike as soon as they moved. I finally understood what she meant.

Prysen Ol struck, a human blur too fast for the eye to follow. Lady Wexyn swept by him. They took a few steps past each other. She held his sword in her hand. Prysen Ol held nothing. A deep red line crossed his throat. His eyes turned glassy. He stumbled and collapsed.

Behind me in the second row of the observer section, the First Scholar let out a scream of pure anguish.

Lady Wexyn turned to the Sovereign. “Are you satisfied with the fulfillment of our contract, Letero?”

“Yes,” Kosandion said.

Lady Wexyn smiled.

“And that’s a wrap!” Gaston emerged onto the stage. “Please join us tomorrow for the exciting conclusion to the greatest spousal selection in the galaxy!”

He bowed.

Lady Wexyn sashayed toward her section. I dropped both Prysen Ol and Amphie through the floor right into the medward.

The screen in front of me showed Klook, one of the First Scholar’s two disciples. They looked almost identical, but the tips of Klook’s feathers had a slightly more pronounced pink tint.

“The First Scholar would like to inquire…”

“Would you like to see him?” I asked.

Klook disappeared, shoved out of the way, and the First Scholar replaced him on the screen, with his feathers in disarray and his eyes ringed by red, a sign of a koo-ko in acute distress. “I’m coming!”

I opened the door to his quarters and made a child-slide-style chute in the floor. A few seconds later, the First Scholar fell out of the medward’s ceiling, spread his wings, and glided to a landing by me.

I turned. In front of me, two square cells sat side by side with six feet of space between them. The back wall of each cell was reinforced concrete with a space-hull-grade titanium overlay, while the other three sides were transparent plastisteel. The center of each cell housed a med unit. The left one held Amphie, the right Prysen Ol. Both patients were sedated.

I had sealed off the werewolf in her own quarters. She was mostly sleeping, as her body did its best to heal. Occasionally she would wake up long enough to eat, and then she fell asleep again. Sean had visited her. They spoke for about an hour, after which she slept for 14 hours straight.

The First Scholar peered at Prysen’s relaxed face.

“He lives?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“He’s very lucky.”

I once heard a story about a hockey player whose jugular was cut by a skate during the game. He should’ve bled out, but he survived against all odds. Prysen Ol should’ve bled out as well, but for the medical cocktail he’d stabbed into his leg. Besides a booster and a pain killer, it contained a wound-sealing coagulant. He was trying to stop the bleeding in his back. Coincidentally, it had patched his jugular enough to keep him alive until the med unit could take over.

“What happens to him now?” the First Scholar asked.

“That depends on his motives. If he carries a personal grudge against the Sovereign, there will be a punishment. If he was simply a hired killer, perhaps Kosandion will find some use for him.”

The First Scholar’s feathers stood erect. “I shall beg the Sovereign for leniency! Prysen Ol is an unrivaled talent. He cannot be thrown away.”

Right. Funny how he ignored the whole “hired killer” part.

The First Scholar marched off, spun in a circle, looking around, and finally remembered I was still there. “Where is the exit?”

“Perhaps it might help to freshen up before you go to see the Sovereign?” I suggested gently.

The First Scholar slapped his head with his pseudohand, checking for his hat, realized it wasn’t there, and nodded. “A most wise advice.”

“I will return you to your quarters. Please let Tony know when you are ready to request an audience.”

I gave the inn a push, and it carried the First Scholar back onto the slide and to his quarters. I sealed the ceiling behind him.

The two prisoners slept in their cells. When they woke up, there would be hell to pay.

But neither of them would die. The Assembly wouldn’t be happy. I could just imagine the look on their faces. Still, up to now, we’d managed to keep all of our guests breathing. That had to count for something, right?

I reached through the inn, looking for Sean. He was still with Kosandion.

“Hey,” I whispered.

“Hey.”

“How is it going?”

“Busy. Behoun is trying to secede from the Dominion.”

Just what Kosandion needed.

“I’m going to get some answers,” I told him.

“Let me know how it goes.”

I paused before the doorway to Lady Wexyn’s quarters and tossed my voice inside.

“A word, Lady Wexyn?”

The doors swung open in front of me, pulled back by two veiled attendants. I strode in, with Beast trotting by my feet. Nothing had changed since my last visit. A clear stream still curved around a courtyard of brown stones, gently flowing into a wide pond. The yellow-leafed Fortune trees washed their long branches in the water. Even Lady Wexyn was in the exact same place, reclining on a chaise inside a wooden pavilion at the pond’s edge.

I approached her.

“Please, sit,” she invited.

I sat down in a cushioned chair. Beast jumped onto my lap and flopped.

Lady Wexyn gazed over the water, her expression serene.

“You have questions,” she said.

“So many.”

She nodded. “I’ll do my best to answer as a thank you for your hospitality.”

“Let’s start with the simplest one. The flying?”

“Tuhl Gravity Disruptor. A tiny single-use gadget with an inaccurate name, since it doesn’t really disrupt gravity, it simply creates a powerful lift for about 7 seconds. I had it attached to my right shoe.”

“It doesn’t sound safe.” Using anything with “Tuhl” in its name meant taking your life in your hands. Tuhls made genius tech that killed them with depressing regularity.

“It isn’t. It requires a lot of training and explodes about 25% of the time. Really, strapping anything that causes a subatomic reaction to your body is a terrible idea. I do not recommend it.”

“It was very impressive,” I told her.

“Thank you.”

“Did Kosandion hire you?”

She nodded. “In a manner of speaking. He spoke to Clan Nuan, and Clan Nuan suggested I would be an excellent solution to his problems.”

“So you’re a bodyguard?”

“Not exactly.” She looked over the water again. “When people think of desires, they usually think of love or lust, depending on how cynical they are. But there are many other desires. Wealth. Power. Freedom… Revenge.”

She gave me a sweet smile. Suddenly she seemed wrapped in power. It suffused her, an unyielding merciless energy, contained yet ready to be weaponized at any moment.

Cold dashed down my spine.

“Some say that the need for revenge is the second strongest desire. Some say it’s the most powerful one. I, like my mother before me, am a Priestess of Revenge. When the supplicants pray before my altar, they lay their grudges bare, and if their cause is worthy, I do what they cannot. Sometimes I am justice, but mostly I’m vengeance.”

She had walked toward Prysen Ol like an unstoppable elemental force. She hadn’t said a single word during that fight. She showed no emotion. It wasn’t personal for her. Looking at her must’ve been like staring Death in the face.

The half-forgotten teachings of the Temple floated up from my memory. The priests and priestesses of the Temple taught that unfulfilled desires created an imbalance in the universe. The deeper the desire, the greater the imbalance. Correcting that imbalance was their sacred mission.

“Harmony,” I said.

She smiled. “Yes.”

Amphie and Prysen Ol had conspired to assassinate Kosandion. His death would have thrown the Dominion into chaos. “Was today vengeance?”

“Today was one of the rare times when I stopped a future tragedy from happening. My contract with Kosandion put no limits on me. He didn’t ask me to guard him. He simply asked me to enter the selection and to act if I judged my intervention was needed. If Amphie hadn’t pulled the trigger, I would’ve continued to play my chosen role to the very end, taken my minor ask, and departed with no one the wiser.”

“What’s your minor ask?”

“A very generous donation to the Temple. I had to stay in character. A woman dripping in gold would ask for more wealth, of course.”

“I thought you would ask for Clan Nuan to become the preferred partner of the Dominion.”

She chuckled. “That is the major ask. A change like that would require reworking the Dominion’s entire interstellar trade. It’s all moot now. Don’t worry. Clan Nuan knew it was a very long shot. They are satisfied.”

The Temple would get their donation, Clan Nuan would drastically improve their trade with the Dominion even without the major ask, and Kosandion would look like a flawless ruler, who both anticipated threats and neutralized them. Declining the protection of the inn during the assassination was the ultimate power move. An overly poetic guest once described being inside of the inn as “being held in a god’s palm,” with your every need met in absolute safety. Even life’s little accidents like tripping and hitting an elbow on the counter didn’t happen inside the inn. Kosandion had showed to the Dominion that even in a god’s palm, he would make his own contingency plans.

I looked at her. “That seems like a lot to leave to chance. Did he help you move up? What if you’d been eliminated in one of the earlier rounds?”

She laughed. It was a light, melodious laugh, warm and infectious. “Kosandion has his faults, but he would never insult me.”

Even if he had manipulated public opinion in her favor, there was no way to fake the trials. She had done well in the debate, wowed in the talent portion, and then she effortlessly won the game. And when Prysen Ol’s sword-whip hurtled at his face, Kosandion didn’t even flinch. He had complete confidence in her skills.

“Kosandion and I are similar in a way,” she said. “Both of us trained from birth to walk the path predestined for us. We are both good at what we do. He understands empires. I understand people. The biggest worry was that Amphie might have been eliminated too soon. There are limits to how much public opinion can be swayed in the face of abject failure.”

“When did you begin to suspect her?”

“From the beginning. So did Kosandion. Behoun has grown prosperous over the last century. It is a kind of aimless prosperity without a clear direction. It breeds greed and laziness. They have systematically avoided all calls to contribute on the federal level. Of all the planets, they send the least troops, share the least resources, and exploit the most tax loopholes, and yet they scream for aid every time they have a minor disaster. They are content to be a part of the Dominion as long as nothing is asked of them, and all of their efforts are aimed at preserving the state of things just the way they are.”

Not surprising. In the US, each state liked to think of itself as a small country. If the states were separated by thousands of light years, that kind of thinking would only become deeper.

An attendant appeared and deposited a tray with snacks and tea on the table.

“Thank you,” Lady Wexyn murmured.

The attendant nodded and withdrew.

She poured two cups of tea and offered one to me. I sipped it. It was a delicate aromatic brew, with notes of peach and jasmine.

Lady Wexyn took a sip as well. “The previous Sovereign ignored Behoun because he had bigger worries. They mistook the lack of attention for weakness and grew more and more brazen. Kosandion is much harsher than his predecessor. His father was infected by his political opponents and arranged his own murder, his aunt threw away an empire and killed her own brother, and Kosandion had witnessed it all, knowing it was done for his sake. It hardened his heart.”

Made sense.

“By the time Behoun realized the danger, the chance to cover up their blatant corruption had passed. When the selection was announced, they scrambled to find a suitable candidate and settled on Amphie. The plan was to wedge her into the spouse spot and use her influence to shield themselves.”

“And to kill Kosandion if she failed?”

“Yes. They hired an assassin to act as her backup. They had to use an outsider so it wouldn’t be traced to them, and Prysen Ol fit that bill perfectly. If Amphie was eliminated, Prysen Ol would attack the Sovereign. Nobody would connect it to Behoun. At the very least the attempted murder would disrupt the selection and create enough problems to buy them some time to regroup.”

“Amphie went off script, then?” I asked. “The entire galaxy saw her give Prysen Ol that look.”

Lady Wexyn nodded. “Hubris. She comes from a wealthy family, and she’s been taught from an early age that she is special and that she deserves all the things she wants. Amphie is a narcissist, focused on herself to the exclusion of all else and pathologically addicted to attention, especially from men. Her biggest fear is being ridiculed. Losing to Oond pushed all the right buttons.”

“She wanted to punish Kosandion for her failure?”

Lady Wexyn nodded. “She would’ve punished the whole world if she could. When a person like Amphie lashes out, there is no limit. If she could’ve disintegrated everyone in that arena with a flick of her fingers, all of us would be atomic dust right now.”

“And Prysen?”

“The identity of the hidden assassin was a bit of a mystery. I had narrowed it down to three possibilities before the debate, but then he brought up the planetphage. It wasn’t particularly relevant to the discussion. He’d slid it in there because he was enamored with the story of a creature that traveled from world to world, devouring all in its path and feeling sad for itself. He might as well have written ‘Conflicted Assassin’ on his forehead.”

Put like that, it did seem obvious.

Lady Wexyn poured more tea. “I will say, the man committed fully. I had expected them to call it off once they realized what a pair of innkeepers are capable of, but he was given the signal and he made a good effort. If you are wondering, I doubt Kosandion will kill him. Why waste a perfectly good assassin?”

“You sound like Caldenia.”

Lady Wexyn smiled into her cup.

“I’ve met him before, you know,” she said.

“Prysen Ol?”

She shook her head. “Kosandion. When I was ten years old, my mother had business in the Dominion’s capital, and she brought me with her to further my training. I saw him from afar during a state celebration, so that night I climbed onto his balcony to get a closer look. He saw me and tried to chase me. We had a lovely run across the balconies and rooftops. Kosandion is genetically engineered to be much faster and stronger than an average person, and he had gotten used to outrunning and outmuscling his guards. He gave it his all.” She laughed. “He was so puzzled when he couldn’t catch me. You should’ve seen his face.”

I had seen the stone-faced Kosandion, the Sovereign Kosandion, the tired Kosandion, even the charming Kosandion, but never a puzzled Kosandion. I couldn’t even picture it in my head.

“Eleven years later, he came to the Temple looking for my mother. Caldenia had petitioned her to avenge her brother’s death.”

“Did your mother judge her petition worthy?”

“She did.” That hint of power simmered under her skin again. “Kosandion wanted details.”

“Did she tell him?”

Lady Wexyn shook her head. “It wasn’t his petition. If his aunt wanted him to know, she would’ve told him.”

Her mother must’ve gone about it just like her daughter. Gathered information, assumed an identity, infiltrated the inner circle of those responsible, and finally brought it to a torturous and bloody end. The greater the grudge, the more severe was the punishment. Vengeance had to match the evil that spawned the need for it. It was the only way harmony would be restored.

“Kosandion spent three days at the Temple trying to convince her. We strolled through the Temple gardens together.” She sounded almost wistful.

“You like him.” It slipped out almost on its own.

“What’s not to like?”

“He could still…” I let it trail off.

“He won’t choose me. A consort can be beautiful, beloved, even worshipped, but they can never be capable of standing on their own. The greatest sin a consort can commit is to split the ruler’s power base and become a threat. People like Kosandion do not marry people like me, Dina. They marry those who would make weak rivals, and I would be a very dangerous rival. The Sovereign in him understands that.”

She was right but it felt so wrong.

I finished my tea. “So, what now?”

“Tomorrow all of us will meet again. I suppose the selection will be declared void, and a new selection will be announced to be held in the next 3 or so years with a fresh roster of candidates.”

“What will you do? The galaxy now knows your face. Won’t it make things difficult for you?”

She gave an elegant one-shouldered shrug. “I suppose I could change my face and my body. I’m too young to retire. But then again, perhaps I will disappear for a few years. Have an adventure while the wheels of the galaxy revolve slowly, grinding memories to dust. I don’t know yet.”

She must’ve known that this would be the outcome from the start, and yet she had done it anyway. Everything she had done from the moment she stepped into the inn until now was a love letter, written with the chiming of thin bracelets, the spin of a translucent veil, and the thrust of a razor-sharp dagger. It was exquisite. And now the message was complete. Tomorrow, she would sign it with a flourish, and they would go their separate ways. It was a farewell to Kosandion and to the girl who let him chase her across the Capital’s balconies years ago.

I rose. Beast jumped off my lap. I bowed my head to her. She bowed back. I straightened my robe and walked out of her quarters the same way I came.