“And how are things run where you hail from? Are there kingdoms, queendoms—who controls things around your neck of the woods?” she asked, her tone genuinely intrigued. I could see a light in her eyes, too, gleaming with curiosity.
I shrugged. “We don’t really have kingdoms anymore, where I come from. Dictatorships aren’t exactly in style,” I said, smiling slightly. Something about this woman lured me into a sense of security, though whether it was a false one or not, only time would tell.
Queen Brisha chuckled with amusement. “How fascinating! What a history you must have.”
Despite myself, I found the woman intriguing. She was almost soft-spoken, with no tinge of paranoia in her voice to sully her words. Everything about her suggested a sharp intelligence… The stacks and stacks of books were a giveaway to the intellect that lay beneath her striking surface.
My mind trailed toward thoughts of Jethro, and what he’d said about wanting to be on Queen Brisha’s side when a civil war inevitably erupted on Vysanthe. Now I understood why she was the obvious choice—she didn’t seem volatile or impulsive like Queen Gianne. She was more cerebral. It explained why she took time to decide whom she allowed into her queendom, carefully considering each case to determine what was best for her people. I was sure there was a hint of paranoia, with her believing outsiders could be spies, but unlike Gianne, this queen didn’t radiate a sense of chaos.
I also realized that, in her eyes, we were defectors. We had come across the border, and, in doing so, sought out her refuge. I remembered Navan telling me that, in order to gain Brisha’s favor, defectors had to offer something exceptionally valuable to her to prove themselves trustworthy beyond all doubt. Would she expect that from us? If so, I had no idea what we could trade. I was sure Navan wasn’t about to try the whole “rebel” charade again with this queen, after it had backfired so badly with Gianne.
“And you, Navan, how does it feel to be back on home soil?” Queen Brisha asked warmly, as if they were old friends who had just met up after a long absence. “I hope you haven’t suddenly gone against the idea of dictatorships?” she teased.
Navan shook his head. “Not yet, Your Highness,” he said, teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “It’s always nice to be on my home planet.”
“And how is your father doing with the search for blood? I would certainly enjoy a taste of that elixir, once it’s complete.” She grinned, catching Navan off guard. I could see the concern on his face.
“How do you—” he began, but she cut him off.
“I have eyes everywhere, Navan. I like to keep ahead of the curve,” she explained kindly, no hint of threat in her voice.
He shrugged. “My father rarely shares his work with me, and I have yet to find a suitable blood for his requirements.”
A glimmer of intrigue crossed Queen Brisha’s face. “Is that so? Very well. At least that gives me a chance to find it first.” She chuckled. “Now, you must be wondering why I’ve asked you here, instead of blowing you out of the sky?”
Navan and I nodded in unison.
“I’m not an unreasonable woman. I like to give chances, where I see potential,” she explained. “And so, I wanted to bring you here, to give you the opportunity to win me over. First, you can begin by telling me what has brought you here to my side of Vysanthe. Second, I’d be very interested to know how my sister is doing, and what she is up to. I trust you won’t mind telling me a few things in return for shelter and safety?”
I glanced at Navan, who looked back at me. It appeared we were standing at a crossroads, with fairly few options ahead of us. We couldn’t leave for Earth without the Asterope—or Queen Gianne’s fleet following us—and we couldn’t remain here without telling Queen Brisha something. The only problem was—did we tell the truth, and risk everything? Or lie, and hope we could get away with it?
Chapter Thirty-Two
“You needn’t feel any responsibility toward my sister,” Queen Brisha continued, as I wondered what we were going to do. “I know better than anyone what she can be like. She rules with fear, believing it to be the only way to control people. If you have come across the border, especially in the manner you did, with so many ships on your tail, I have a feeling you did not leave on the best of terms. I am simply interested in why—why run from the South?”
Neither of us said a word, prompting Queen Brisha to frown. It was clear she didn’t like to be kept waiting, but there was something else, as well. There was a look of pity in her eyes, as if she knew something we didn’t.
“Gianne used to be a kind, artistic creature,” Queen Brisha went on. “The crown has twisted her up inside, and made her a shadow of the woman she once was. I warned her this would happen—I told her not to let her paranoia get the better of her, but she has taken my words in a manner they were not intended, and I fear it is doing her harm. From what I hear, she is terrified of everyone—she suspects everyone and everything of betrayal, but only has the threat of execution as a means of controlling her populace. She is teetering on the edge of madness.” The sad note in Queen Brisha’s voice surprised me. Although a tentative truce existed between the two sisters, Queen Brisha clearly still cared for her twin. Well, perhaps she didn’t exactly care for her, but she certainly pitied her.
“I think you may be right,” Navan said unexpectedly. “Queen Gianne is not herself. She is using greater force than ever before, and has become less tolerant of infractions against her rules.” I wondered where he was going with this. Surely, telling Queen Brisha that her sister was on the edge of a breakdown would only push the civil war forward? Then again, if it was imminent anyway, it was merely accelerating the inevitable. Perhaps Navan was thinking we could escape during the turmoil that would follow such a battle? It seemed like a longshot, but I wasn’t sure what else he could be thinking.
“Ah yes, your father is her chief advisor, is he not?” Queen Brisha asked, though it was clear she already knew the answer.
Navan nodded. “It’s why our misdemeanor hasn’t gone down at all well with your sister. I think she is terrified of what people would think, if she made me an exception to one of her most concrete rules. She might have thought about it, given whose son I am, but not even my father could talk her into it.”
“Misdemeanor?” Queen Brisha asked, raising an eyebrow.
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