Empress Game: The Empress Game Trilogy Book 1 (16 page)

Within an hour it became clear that the problem wouldn’t be one of finding people, it would be escaping them. They’d been offered a dozen drinks Kayla had never heard of; she’d chosen a raspberry-hued cocktail for no other reason than that it matched her dress, and held it like a fashion accessory. They’d been offered enough food to feed five; she’d neglected to challenge the tight knot in her gut. They’d easily conversed with fifty people, not one of whom she recognized, and they hadn’t made it farther than twenty meters into the crowd. At one point the crush of people heading in their direction actually backed up the flow of newcomers, halting introductions on the presentation steps.

Imperial functionaries in official jade tunics had politely disengaged the throng long enough to allow them to pass farther into the pit and stop jamming traffic.

“Lady Evelyn, might I engage a moment of your time?” An earnest man, the first face among the sea that she recognized, waited a polite distance away, hand over his heart.

Alunri Dega. Prince, eldest son. Protectorate Planet Uha. Her hours of memorization had paid off.

“Prince Alunri. Of course.”

He looked stunned at the sound of his own name.

“You…?”

“I’ve been studying.” She smiled at him, easy to do when his lips quirked self-deprecatingly.

“Of course.”

“Please, take no offense. You are very memorable, I assure you.”

“And you as well. Your holovid is a pale comparison to you this evening.” He bowed, his hand falling away from his chest as she made her traditional greeting. “I have done some studying as well.”

“Then we are even.” She kept a check on Isonde’s location from the corner of her eye. The two moved as a unit, never allowing themselves to be separated from each other by the ring of interested parties. The princess was just off her right hip, their backs together as each conversed. If the mass of courtiers awaiting her attention swallowed Isonde up, Kayla would never find her again.

“Can you believe this crush?” His was the typical opening, the easy ice breaker. Despite the fact that everyone was here to increase their position, station or power, either for themselves or their nation, they all insisted on acting as though it were a purely social event.

“It’s more than I expected.” She pretended to sip her cocktail. “I swear it’s like grain price-fix day at the start of the trade window on Piran.”

He chuckled. “Surely it’s not
that
hectic.”

“Worse, I assure you.”

They shifted position as they spoke, a subtle dance that kept them close enough to be heard over the cacophony of joined conversation, distant enough to be polite, and always moving away from the presentation stairs.

“How did the dispute over fishing rights in the Utar Sea work itself out in your province?” she asked.

He raised blond eyebrows. “You
have
been studying.”

She inclined her head. “Favorable, I hope?”

“Near enough. The Gethans were not pleased, but then, they never are.” He said it lightly but she noticed tension in his smile. “My people will continue to fish it, as they always have. To ask otherwise had been… unfair.”

“Of course. Original rights should be respected wherever possible.”

“Thank you, my lady. I concur. And what of your people? I apologize, I have not your dedication to study and while I am aware of Princess Isonde’s achievements in the Sovereign Council, I am uncertain what occurs in your nation of Ishimi.”

She had to laugh at that, having only just this past week learned the lay of the land in Ishimi herself. She played it casual, offering minor details.

He made polite chat before duty called him away, leaving Kayla and Isonde slowly making their way through the crowd toward more significant guests.

* * *

“It’s not that we aren’t in favor of a more balanced standing within the intergalactic trade environment. Certainly we’d like to see the Protectorate Planets develop and be allowed to flourish within their own commodities structure. But Timpania shouldn’t be forced to beggar itself for the sake of fledgling nations that can’t provide one hundredth the resources that Timpania has already provided to the empire. We have a right to fair trade prices on our gallenium ore.”

Kayla tried to smile politely at Councilor Adai. The woman’s last sentence might have been more accurate if phrased as, “We are fully committed to raising the already obscene price on a resource we know everyone needs.” Timpania could bleed money for a century and still not beggar itself. They were one of only a handful of planets with natural gallenium resources, which, when refined, fueled ion weapons, ion generators, and most importantly, stardrives.

“There’s some discussion,” Kayla said, “of putting sanctions in place that would regulate the market, considering the essential nature of the resource.”

Councilor Adai looked disgusted. “Such a proposal would never pass.”

Historically most nations had been afraid to vote for imposing a price cap on gallenium, fearing Timpania would refuse to trade with them if they backed it. The balance had been shifting with the ever-rising prices, however, and looked to be approaching a critical point.

“Interplanetary travel has been harder to come by in the outer sector among the fringe Protectorates due to fuel shortage,” Kayla said. “That might begin to affect transport of other necessary goods back to the Sovereign Planets.”

“The Councils have more pressing issues to debate.”

“A fuel shortage is a concern with many,” Kayla said. “However, Piran could be convinced that other issues were of greater importance. For instance, exploring alternative avenues for finding a cure to the TNV plague might demand more of our attention within the Sovereign Council, shelving the question of sanctions on gallenium for the time being.”

She had Adai’s full attention now.

* * *

Some time later Kayla sipped at a fruity, non-intoxicating beverage, this time in blue. She listened to Isonde speak about a nation ravaged by the TNV. Those who had gathered to discuss with her, intimates all, nodded with the same concern her voice expressed. Names and faces whirled through Kayla’s head from the hours they’d already spent at the party. Still, Isonde’s recounting of the absolute devastation the TNV left in its wake arrested her. She’d seen the numbers, read the reports on estimated landmass affected, studied the numerous impacts the death toll had on the empire as a whole.

But to take it from abstract numbers and hear the story of the people themselves, the damage done and the suffering the TNV inflicted on its victims before they died, was another thing altogether.

Maybe her people should have broken the anti-nanotech treaty with the other Wyrd Worlds and helped.

* * *

Kayla turned down another offer of food and made idle chatter with an older man whose name she couldn’t bother to remember. She’d never see him again anyway. Over his head she spied the Clanestas Warren. Based on stats alone, these two sisters would be among her toughest competitors. They hailed from Clan Warren in the Dhovmir Province on Kokomar, where clan warfare in Dhovmir was a way of life. The Clanestas, or Clan Daughters, ruled Clan Warren jointly. It was rumored that neither had ever lost a fight except to each other.

The older, Sovein, had a ten centimeter height advantage on Kayla—and she was the smaller of the two. The younger, Urveina’s, sleeveless tunic showed off arms thick with enough strength to wield a tree as a weapon. Her shoulders surpassed both Trinan’s and Vid’s for width. The Clanestas spoke to their companions with their hands, their language being half verbal, half somatic. Their palms could have been bear paws for their surface area, but their gestures were graceful, the fingers quick and agile. When they strode by with steps of matching lightness, Kayla knew their holovids had undersold them.

The Clanestas studied Isonde as they passed. They assessed and dismissed her in a heartbeat, and only a nod of Sovein’s head acknowledged their fellow combatant in the Game.

* * *

Kayla surrendered.

She made her apologies to Bishop She-Had-No-Idea-Who, murmured her intention to Isonde, then slunk to a free chair she spied along the wall. She kept the princess in sight as she sat gingerly, easing stiff legs with a sigh. Her throat rasped when she laughed at her own predicament: bested by diplomats. The roar of endless conversation washed over her, nothing but babble at this point. The chair’s cradle beckoned sleep. Her mind drifted.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, only to flash open when a smell piqued her senses: old-fashioned imperial soap.

“Enjoying yourself?” Malkor’s voice, familiar after so many strangers’. He smiled down at her with an amused chuckle.

“What unholy hour of the night is it?” she asked.

“I do believe it is morning, and has been for some time.” He glanced over his shoulder at Isonde before returning his attention to her. “Let me escort you back. Isonde’s likely to be at this another three hours and you look ready to drop.” He held out his hand to her and Kayla took it without thinking, letting him lift her from the chair.

She meant to slide her hand from his but somehow it just stayed there, skin resting against skin. How many times in the last five years had she touched a person like this, not because she had to, but because she wanted to, because she liked it. Someone who wasn’t Corinth.

Had it always felt this nice?

On the heels of the unexpected thought came another as she studied his gray eyes.
Did you harm my people with this hand?

“You shine tonight,” he said, unaware of her turmoil. “Every time I saw you, more courtiers were forming a line for your attention. Soon you’ll have as devoted a following as Isonde does.”

“If they are devoted, it’s to convincing me to schedule some of Isonde’s time for them.” Which was to be expected. “Apparently having Isonde’s ear, and perhaps an influence on her calendar, makes me one of the most engaging females in the empire.”

“Not so. Archon Raorin didn’t even spare the princess a glance when he spoke with you. And the elder Mister Vauhn had to be pried from your side. Lord and Lady Anto looked simply delighted to be speaking with you. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen them so animated.”

“That was animation? I thought they might expire on the spot.” So he’d been keeping an eye on her, even if she hadn’t seen him.

“Trust me, they were positively giddy. Let me—” The arena-wide voice system kicked in, burying his words under the blare of the latest arrival’s presentation.

Who would arrive at this hour?

The Master of Ceremonies echoed out a hated name. “Master Dolan of the Wyrd World Ilmena, Imperial Officer of Astronautical Advancement, Grand Advisor of Science and Technology to Emperor Rengal and Ambassador for the Wyrd Worlds.”

Ambassador? Traitor to the Wyrd Worlds, more like. Opportunistic, amoral criminal of state who should have died during the Kalichma Ritual.

Thankfully she was hundreds of meters from the presentation stairs. He’d never lay eyes on her among the crowd.

“It looks like Master Dolan and his special party have finally arrived. Now the mystery can be put to rest,” Malkor said.

“What mystery?”

“Who Master Dolan is sponsoring in the Game. He’s sequestered Aronse and Gio to act as diplomats for his special party’s admittance onto Falanar—neither has reported in since the assignment.”

A woman stepped onto the upper landing of the presentation stairs, flanked on each side by a shorter gentleman. Another woman paused behind them. Light caught the radiance of their lavender hair and illuminated their absolute disdain for the entire gathering.

“Princess Tia’tan and the Ambassadors Noar, Luliana and Joffar, of the Wyrd World Ilmena.”

In the stunned silence that followed, Malkor’s voice hit her like a blow.

“Apparently the Wyrds have arrived.”

K
ayla slept off the shock of seeing Princess Tia’tan and the rest of the Ilmenan Wyrds arrive as the
kin’shaa
’s allies. She awoke in the late afternoon with a throbbing headache and a bone-deep sense of betrayal.

She didn’t know the Ilmenans. Hundreds of royal houses inhabited the four Wyrd Worlds; she couldn’t recall most of the family names, never mind individual members. Interplanetary relations between the worlds were fairly quiet and uninvolved.

But as Wyrds they should have been her allies. People she could trust with the truth of her identity. How could they join forces with the empire? How could they work with Dolan? He’d had his psi powers stripped for a reason. He’d raped his own people in a series of mental experiments, the details of which sickened her. He had led the empire to Ordoch, had provided the coordinates for hyperstream travel. Anyone working with him was her enemy.

Her own people, now her greatest threat.

Kayla had just enough time to check in on Corinth before she was summoned to a meeting with Prince Ardin, Malkor and Isonde. A royal convoy collected them at the Game pavilion and transported them to the imperial palace in sleek hover cars. After traveling a maze of corridors and passing through more than three ID stations, Kayla and the rest were escorted into one of Ardin’s private studies.

The blue tones of the woven reed floor blended into an ever-lightening scale of color that spread up the walls. The blue paled to white when it reached the domed ceiling, and star-shaped skylights poured sunshine down. The windows along one side of the oblong room showed a view of green and blue foliage. Against the far wall, water trickled down an aquamarine crystal larger than Kayla. The chime of water droplets falling a short space into a pool below was the only sound as Kayla took her seat with the others at the table.

No psi powers were needed to sense the tension from each. No one relaxed comfortably in a chair, no one reached for the refreshments offered. Ardin’s sigh as he took his seat said it all.

“Now what?” The prince looked to Malkor as if the IDC agent had a plan. Clearly they were all thinking the same thing: what to do now that Wyrds had arrived to compete in the Game?