Heaven's Queen (50 page)

Caldswell was waiting for us at the bottom. He gave Rupert a sharp look, but he didn’t say a word. He just walked us over to the docking tunnel the royal ship had already extended.

When I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, Caldswell shook his head. “It’ll all be explained in a second,” he said. “Move quick. We have very little time.”

And with that cryptic statement, he shoved Rupert and me into the docking tunnel and activated the entrance shield, sealing us in. I stood bewildered for a second, then whirled around and half marched, half ran toward the golden door at the other end of the long plastic tunnel.

The boarding tunnel wasn’t so different from the Terran ones the battleships used, but once we reached the cruiser, it was like stepping into another world. The gold-plated airlock opened when we approached, and two Devastators in full King-class armor came out to meet us. If Caldswell hadn’t made it clear we were in some kind of crisis, I would have spent a good five minutes drooling over their suits, but I did not want to be late for whatever was waiting for us, and I definitely did not want to miss my first look at true royal splendor.

The ship did not disappoint. Unlike Terran battleships with their stark military sensibilities and efficient design, the Royal Cruiser was built to impress on every level. It was scaled for armor, which meant everything was enormous, but still luxurious to the point of absurdity. The walls were lined with wood instead of plastic or metal, the floors either lushly carpeted or tiled in slick, polished, gold-flecked stone. I couldn’t even begin to calculate how much something like this cost, but then, if the king couldn’t have the best, who could?

This was certainly the king’s own ship, too. Everything from the door handles to the soft lighting positively smacked of royalty and privilege. Even the deck layout was more like a palace than a warship, with soaring ceilings and sweeping hallways and verandas overlooking ornamental gardens filled with fountains and fishponds. But for all the opulence, the most telling detail of just how noble a presence we were dealing with was the fact that
everyone
was armored, even the servants. Not even dukes bothered with that level of security, Terran space or not, but royals were another matter altogether.

By the time our silent Devastator guides had led us up to the ship’s highest level, I was certain we were being taken to a member of the king’s own family. The prince maybe, or his sister. Whoever it was, I was so nervous I didn’t know if I’d be able to speak a word of sense when the time came. Rupert, of course, looked perfectly together, thought not nearly as impressed by all of this as he should have been. In his defense, though, he was Terran. Terrans never could appreciate true grandeur.

Our trip ended at a beautiful observation room at the very top of the ship. The ceiling was open glass, revealing what should have been the full swath of the stars overhead, but I could barely see them through the ever-present haze of phantoms. The room was as large as the
Fool
’s cargo bay and softly lit with natural light–giving crystals, the sort that glowed all different colors. I’d always thought they were lovely, but I’d never been able to afford even a small one, especially considering they only glowed for a week before they went out. The cost of keeping an entire room like this lit with the things boggled my mind. I was wondering how many suits of armor I could buy with that much money when I heard the hiss of a door opening.

I looked up nervously, expecting to see a royal secretary, or maybe another pair of exalted tour guides to replace the Devastators who’d stayed behind at the door. What I got was a knot of soldiers wearing the most high-end, expertly designed custom armor I’d ever seen, all golden, and all bearing the insignia of the king’s private guard. And standing between them, wearing a suit that made him seven feet tall, was a man whose face I knew so well I didn’t actually recognize it now that I was seeing him in the flesh. When I did, I threw myself to the ground, pressing my forehead against the slick stone floor, because that was my king standing in front of me, and I wasn’t sure if I was dead or blessed beyond reason.

“Rupert!” I hissed, glancing at his feet, which I shouldn’t have been able to see if he’d known the first thing about meeting a living saint. “
Kneel!
”

“Why?” Rupert said. “He’s not my king.”

I rolled my eyes to the heavens, bracing for the bolt of punishing fire I knew was coming. Before I could beseech my king for mercy, however, a deep, rumbling laugh echoed through the room.

“It is all right, Deviana Morris,” said the voice. “We no longer waste our time being offended by Terran arrogance.”

The sound of King Stephen’s sacred voice, the one I’d heard since childhood, saying
my
name nearly made me faint. But before I could decide if I’d be fainting from fear or religious awe, the king spoke again. “Rise, child, and let us see you.”

I shot up like an arrow, desperate to obey. I’d never dreamed that I would be this close to the king, and I’d never wanted to be, either. The Sainted King was as terrible as he was just, the divine will of God made flesh. He was not the sort of power you wanted taking an interest in you if you were smart. He was looking at me now, though, so I stayed perfectly still, praying frantically that he see whatever he wanted even as I realized the futility of praying to a saint who was ten feet in front of you.

This close, I couldn’t help noticing how much older the king looked in person. I’d never thought of King Stephen as handsome—one did not have such thoughts about a living saint—but this close I couldn’t miss how age had sunken his cheeks, making his high cheekbones and pointed chin even sharper by comparison. He looked gaunt, a blasphemous part of me realized, almost sickly. But then, King Stephen was approaching sixty-five, and no Paradoxian king had ever lived past seventy. His eyes, however, were crystal clear and every bit as electric blue in real life as they appeared on camera.

That scared me the most, actually. I’m as faithful a Paradoxian as you’ll find, but I’d always secretly wondered if the eerie glow was added in postproduction, a trick to help the faithful believe. Now I saw for myself that it was no trick. The king’s eyes glowed like electric blue fireflies behind the open mask of his suit, and though I forced myself to hold my ground, inside I was shrinking with holy terror.

“You are younger than we thought you’d be,” the king said at last, like this disappointed him. “But Caldswell praises you very highly. He wrote to us of what you did here, the services you rendered to our crown, before giving you back into our care.”

I swallowed. When Caldswell said he had referred my case up the chain, I hadn’t realized he’d gone to the very top.

“What do you want with her?”

I jumped at Rupert’s voice, giving him a frantic look. You did
not
speak to any noble unless specifically invited, especially the king. He was going to get both of us hanged if King Stephen took offense. But if the Sainted King was offended by Rupert’s lack of deference, he didn’t show it. Instead, he answered.

“That depends on young Morris, former Eye Charkov,” the king said. “We heard such tales of her that we thought we’d better come see for ourselves, and to bear witness to a unique natural phenomenon.”

He turned as he said this, gazing up and out of the observation room’s glass bubble at the universe beyond. I looked, too, trying to figure out what he could mean, but all I saw were the phantoms. They’d gotten thicker since we’d arrived, sweeping through the observation room like windblown seeds. But though they blew through Rupert and the king’s guard like ghosts, they stopped when they hit King Stephen.

That made me pause. I’d gotten so used to the phantoms going through everyone except me and the daughters, I hadn’t paid them any attention, especially since my king was in the room. Now that I’d seen it, though, I wondered how I could have missed them. They were crawling over the king like they loved him, gathering around his body until he was ringed in light. It was a holy sight, and quite fitting, but I didn’t understand why. I was still wondering when the king turned back to me.

Having those glowing eyes staring straight through you is a harrowing experience, and when the king raised his hand, I was certain he was about to smite me where I stood. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned his hand over, palm up, and like he’d called to them, the phantoms descended, flocking to his fingers like birds to a feeder, their little feelers running over his skin just like they did over mine.

When he saw me looking, the king dropped his hand, scattering the phantoms as his gaunt face broke into a smile. “You have done Paradox a great service,” he said, his deep voice rumbling. “By opening the door and freeing those it trapped, not only did you make our sacred kingdom safer, but you also removed our need to support and tolerate the Eyes’ interference.”

He grinned, like this was a grand joke, and held out his hand again, though not for the phantoms. Instead, one of his knights handed him the hilt of an ornate, and very sharp, sword. The king gripped the hilt with practiced ease, swinging the razor-sharp point up until it was level with my nose.

“Your deeds have made you worthy in our sight,” he said, his voice taking on the rhythm of ceremony. “To reward you for your service to our crown, we in our magnanimity have decided to grant you a boon of your choice. Speak, and it shall be.”

I swayed on my feet, thunderstruck. A boon from the king. That could be
anything
. Wealth, power, even nobility. The king was offering me anything I could dream of, but when I opened my mind to the possibilities, there was only one wish waiting for me.

“Your Majesty,” I said, focusing on each word to keep my voice from shaking. “I ask you to make me a Devastator.”

The king frowned. “Are you sure, young Morris? Our Devastators are brave, but they are commoners. We are willing to grant you a barony in the Marches if you desire.”

A barony would make me real nobility, something that was almost never offered to peasants like me. I wasn’t actually sure which part of what I’d done had set me so high with the king, but even so, I wasn’t tempted. For all its importance, nobility was too much like a desk job for my liking, and anyway, I’d only ever had one goal in my life. Now that it was in my reach again, nothing was going to put me off course. “With all due respect and gratitude, Your Highness, I want to be a Devastator.”

I was certain I’d messed up the address in that one, but the king merely shrugged. “So be it,” he said. “The easiest way to do this is to knight you, which would please us greatly. If that is your wish, then step forward, young Morris, and be sworn to us forever.”

I sucked in a breath. Knighthood was a silly childhood dream. Things like that never really happened to mercs. But I didn’t wake up when I stepped forward, or when I fell to my knees at the king’s feet. I didn’t imagine the feel of the king’s sharp sword pressing down on my shoulder as he spoke the ancient blessing of knighthood, and though I barely heard myself giving the answers, I was reasonably certain I actually spoke them. Everything was a blur by this point, but I must not have messed up too badly, because when I stood, the king placed his hand, his own sacred hand, upon my shoulder.

“Sir Morris now,” he said, smiling. “Go back to Caldswell and tell him you are no longer his. We shall see you back in Kingston, Sir Knight, and all of civilization shall know of your deeds.”

I think I might have died of happiness at that moment, or maybe I was just in shock. I was vaguely aware of bowing to the king and stumbling out. I probably would have fallen on my face if Rupert hadn’t been there to keep me upright.

I did remember to look back one last time when we reached the door, because it wasn’t every day you met a living saint. When I looked back, though, King Stephen wasn’t watching me. He was standing at the huge window, staring up at the sea of phantoms as they drifted past on their way out of our universe, his eerie eyes casting a brighter blue tint to their snowy light.

This ghostly sight was the last I saw of my king before the doors cut me off.

The reality of what had just happened didn’t really sink in until we reached the docking tube. After that, it took everything I had not to bounce up and down squealing like a pig. After all, I was a knight now, and knights had to be dignified. But though I managed not to act like a
complete
idiot, I couldn’t help grabbing Rupert’s arm and tugging on it while I told him I was a knight over and over in a breathless voice until the words ran together into mush.

“Yes, you are,” he said indulgently, kissing my head. “You made it. I’m proud of you.”

But even though his words were warm, I couldn’t help noticing Rupert wasn’t quite as happy as I was. To be fair, I don’t think anyone could have been as happy as I was at that moment, but I’d expected a little more excitement.

To my great surprise, Caldswell seemed over the moon at the news. He congratulated me earnestly, slapping me on the back like we hadn’t been trying to kill each other a week ago. Actually, life without Maat seemed to be doing him very well. He looked ten years younger, so when he announced he was retiring, I couldn’t quite believe it.

“There’s no more need for us,” he said, grinning. “The daughters are being integrated into other programs and want nothing to do with us anyway. Maat’s gone, no more phantoms, there’s nothing for me to do.”

“There must be something,” I said.

Caldswell just shrugged. “Nothing I care about. I’ve done my time and then some, and I think I deserve a break from the endless grind of duty. I’m thinking of getting a new ship, actually, try my hand at real trading.”

I made a face. “Well, so long as you don’t have to make real money doing it, you should be fine.”

It was a sign of his good mood that Caldswell burst out laughing at that. He waved farewell to us and walked off down the hall, whistling as he went. Mabel fell into step behind him a few doors down, though I didn’t see where she’d come from. That should have unnerved me, but it’s hard to be afraid of a woman who was turning around to give me two big thumbs up. After that, I could only shake my head. Vicious, bloodthirsty killers one second, best friends the next. Damn crazy Eyes were as bad as mercs.