Page 93

Finally, Martin, in his late twenties but who still looks like a teenager to me.

He’s from Virelia, with a long, lanky body he still hasn’t filled in.

He finished his clerkship on the eve of war and was brought up to the big leagues.

His expression is permanently haunted, and his gaunt facial structure has become skeletal since we went through the Rift.

As he hears my soft footsteps approaching, he jolts up to his feet, knocking over the mug in front of him onto a stack of papers.

It’s miraculously empty, and he wilts under Helena’s glance, the slight tightening of her eyes the equivalent of a loud chewing out from anyone else.

Martin plunks his butt back into the seat and tries to make himself small, which isn’t easy for the awkwardly gangly young lad.

They all three look tired, worn down, determined. The conversation of the fourth of the council, Lineta, short and fiery from Magnar, travels in through the oval window. She’s pacing the terrace, which rings each floor of the office building, yelling at a holo-vid coming up from her smart-watch.

When she hears me, she glances in through the oval window and cuts her call off curtly.

An angry wave of her hand at the sensor to the sliding doors, and they open, a gust of wind entering the library as she storms in.

The sky outside is growing dark, black clouds forming out of nowhere, and the air has a sharpness to it.

“We’ve got a fucking problem,” she spits out as she walks in on the thick carpet, then with a violent motion, kicks off her heels and throws them aside, before she trips in the impractical carpeting.

Even when she wears them, she barely comes up to my chest, but every time she enters a room it feels small.

If she was up all night, there’s no indication of it. Her thick black brows are furrowed, and she looks like she’s ready to solve with her fists whatever crisis came up. She strides to me, looking up with her jaw set.

“Fill me in.”

She cocks her head, motioning me to sit at the table. I shake my head. I prefer to take my blows standing.

“A new political party. Sovereign Dawn. Yeah, very fucking original. More extremist than any we’ve seen so far, hyper-nationalistic.

This is the first time the worst nationalist groups from each planet are coming together.

They’ve got one goal: expelling Aurelians from Pentaris soil.

We’ve been coordinating with local law enforcement and the intelligence service as best as we can, but it’s a fucking volcano building up, and we’re jamming our fingers into holes the second before they burst.”

I nod. “It was inevitable. We knew it was coming. I’m surprised it took so long.”

Lineta grinds her teeth. “We’ve avoided some dangerous situations by the skin of our teeth. Young men who don’t like Aurelian boots on their streets. There’s four teenagers on Virelia in jail right now who were plotting to blow up a ship transporting med-bays, for the sake of the Gods.”

“I wouldn’t be so glib,” snaps Helena as she looks me up and down, standing and smoothing her uniform. The legal council all wear plain grey uniforms that match my own in everything but color. Theirs are dull grey, to show their impartiality. “They’ve got the backing of Edmus Freehold.”

Her tone is jarring. I’ve gotten used to something else: bowed heads of Aurelians, respectful nods when I come near, the shared endurance of my staff, all of us who have been through hell together and come out. The frankness puts me off balance.

“Edmus? Good old Edmus? There must be a mistake. He’s the reason I’m Prime Minister. My biggest donor is backing a hyper-nationalist fringe party?”

Helena’s expression sours. Her lips purse. “You’ve been… out of the loop. Spending your time with the triad, instead of reading the reports your staff brings you. Lineta,” she finishes, motioning to the Magnarian to brief me.

“Was. He was your biggest supporter, because you ran on a nationalistic platform which coincidentally had massive tariffs and a trade embargo on almost all Aurelian military tech. Mr. Freehold feels betrayed, and his stockholders do as well. He’s been loudly stating on all major media platforms that you’ve sold out our planet’s industrial bases…

and that you’re letting in violent, hmm, what was the word he used?

Ah yes. Violent, sex-crazed aliens roam the streets. ”

Fuck him.

The thought surprises me. During my election campaign, the whims of the business magnate were a major concern. Now he seems so small, so petty, riling up young men and pretending to care about anything more than a percentage point in his quarterly filings.

All of this feels small. Stupid little political squabbles, while the very existence of Pentaris and the greater universe are at stake.

“What’s our exposure?”

Caius leans back in the sofa, reclining comfortably like a lord who has finished a banquet while the others are perched on wooden chairs they brought over, letting him have the entirety of the couch to sprawl.

“There’s a legal issue that is being brought forward to the lower courts.

They’ve deferred it to us. The Pentaris constitution states that there are no monarchs.

The Sovereign Dawn, with Edmus’ cash, are loudly proclaiming that if you are married into the family of the crown prince, you will be stripped of your position of Prime Minister immediately. ”

A spurt of rage, quickly calmed. I take a controlled breath in. “The constitution states that Pentaris will have no monarchy, not that there are no monarchs.”

Martin jumps to his feet. “Well that’s the thing.

I’ve been poring over the old language, and it’s really exciting.

Back when Pentaris was united, there were five different languages, which leads to our constitution living and breathing as we do our best to understand the original intent.

Now I’ve been searching the original documents, and…

” He trails off. Martin was brought up as a constitutional expert, and he’s realizing no one else shares his enthusiasm for the ancient documents, especially not when he’s giving us bad news.

“Delay it. Delay it, or make it go away, or beat it in court. Do all three. Oh, don’t give me that look, Helena.

You and I both know this is a smear campaign built off some reinterpretation of a word or two out of context.

If the people don’t want me as Prime Minister, then I’ll retire.

But not until this war is finished, and the threat to my planets is done.

I’m not going to let Edmus weasel in some pro-business politician who cuts imports of med-bays because they hurt the profit of his hospitals. ”

Helena raises a brow. “You’re starting to sound like a queen.”

“You were up late. And you’ve been working hard.

So I won’t take offense. You and I both know that if Obsidian isn’t stopped, he’s going to work his way through the entire universe.

Planet after planet, enslaved. So your job is not to find translations or to argue cases, it’s to make this go away until the war is over.

Then I can be disgraced, I can resign in humiliation, I don’t care.

My legacy will be that of Pentaris continued, not ripped apart by the war. Is that clear, everyone?”

Lineta stays silent for a long moment, exchanging glances with the other council. Then she nods.

“Clear, Prime Minister.”

“Good.”

I look past them, to the oval window, where Gallien is standing, his back to me, looking out over the city. I asked him to give me room, and he did so, the only way he could, going through the second office to the terraces that ring the building.

It’s clear my presence is unwelcome, but I take one last look at my legal team before I go.

Lineta and Caius are realists. They know the stakes.

Martin… Martin will do whatever the legal text says.

He just wants to work through old tomes, applying the technical legalities to the letter.

He cares more about fine print than war, and I doubt he even fully understands the gravity of the situation.

When this comes to a decision, it’s a coin flip which way he’ll land.

Helena…

She is in her twilight, and lawyers are as dangerous as politicians in the last breaths of their careers.

Especially with her unblemished reputation as the preeminent legal mind of our generation, a woman on the boards of countless charities and foundations.

She came from money, and she donates a portion of her fortune publicly each year, funding universities and research.

You can’t walk through the halls of any reputable institution without seeing a library or hospital named after her.

She alone meets my gaze, cold and implacable, while the other lawyers make themselves busy with their work. I leave unsettled, walking towards the glass doors which slide open as they sense my presence.

The air seems to react to my presence, prickly and crackling, making the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise.

The terrace that surrounds the building rings each level.

Trees grow, their trunks rising through holes cut in each floor.

They are constrained and neatly funneled upwards, so unlike Virelia where our architecture works around nature.

Gallien leans out over the railing, looking out at the city, the wind whipping at his ivory robes.

His jaw is set, his features chiseled and hard.

His short-cropped hair, platinum grey, makes him look as though he is perpetually wearing a crown.

Marble fingers grip the railing, the blue-black ring obscene against his skin.

Thunder booms out, lightning blinds me for an instant, and the heavy black clouds unleash on the city before us, a stream of rain so thick it’s like a wall.