It seemed like Solara, at least, had taken to Qole. Marsius was fast friends with Arjan, and Ket…well. It hadn’t served me to contemplate her too much before this point, and now I felt like I had a major incentive to do so even less.
“Congratulations on completing your Flight,” Father said quietly. “I had my doubts about the whole plan, but you and Rubion persisted…and you were right to persist,” he added, making me blink. Father rarely admitted to being wrong, mostly because he typically wasn’t. “What you’re going to accomplish for this family, for this system, is worth being proud of.”
The words warmed me, but I shook my head. “I’m beginning to realize, Father, that the people who deserve thanks are the ones who trust us to do the right thing. Qole went through a great deal to be here, and that was after I tried to force her to come.”
He nodded. “Our responsibility is toward our subjects, and we cannot forget that. But don’t let your fascination with one person upset your responsibility to everyone, Nevarian.”
I stared out the windows, trying to understand what he meant. Or rather, understand all of what he meant. Thelarus Dracorte never spoke of anything without multiple levels of intent, and I had grown up to be better than most at discerning his words.
Except this time, I wasn’t sure I liked what I was reading. “I’ve remained focused on nothing but the mission, Father. Every action I’ve taken has been to further our goal of improving the lives of everyone. When we announce that we can make Shadow a safe source of energy, show that we have an example to work from, everything will change. But I’m also happy that, in the process, I’m learning more about our subjects and what they need.”
Father nodded, and we remained silent another moment. I always enjoyed our conversations here, viewing the city. They had grown less frequent as I grew older, but they always gave me the same sense of connection to him and to our purpose.
“That’s commendable, Nev,” he finally said. “Remember, however, that if you seek the best for people, you cannot afford to care for them too much. Your mind must remain clear to the realities.”
I stared him directly in the eyes. Even now, no longer a child, I felt a little audacious for doing it. “I promised Qole her safety, and I would do anything to keep that promise.”
“Of course,” he said, in a firm tone, using the words more as a but than an agreement. “I’m not talking about her safety.”
He meant that I should keep my distance. That I was above her.
“That may be a lesson I don’t know how to learn,” I admitted, without breaking my gaze.
The king looked back at me with calm expectation. Suddenly I was eight again, at my Rendering, standing with weights on my shoulders and trying not to fall. “You will find, son, that life will teach it to you. Your only job is to be prepared for the lesson.” He turned. “It’s time; you should get ready.”
He left me alone then, and my eyes wandered up to the fading orange sky. Somewhere out there, one of those points of light was the Alaxak subsystem. Somewhere there were asteroid belts, and gravitational currents, and molecular clouds with rivers of Shadow.
I was supposed to be happy here; I had everything I wanted. So I wondered why I had felt more at home yesterday, on the Kaitan Heritage.
I pushed it from my mind. It was indeed time.
If it were possible to die of mortification, I was pretty sure I would be dead. And if that mortification was a weapon, then the Dracortes were wielding it. Or, at this very moment, five lady’s maids were, in the form of the soaps, scrub brushes, and hair combs they used to attack me. But it had been an unending assault from all corners ever since I’d stepped off the Kaitan.
I sat in a scooping silver basin filled to the brim with more scalding water than I’d ever seen outside the few hot springs on Alaxak. The water was also infused with more perfume oils than I could hope to use in a lifetime, never mind at one time.
The head lady’s maid, Ollava, leaned over my head and sniffed me, of all things. She eyed the dozen or so perfume bottles sitting by the side of the tub. “More spice, less floral. We need something sturdier to counteract the fur and leather still clinging to her.”
There was nothing still clinging to me, in fact. I was stark naked in the tub, in spite of my huge audience. They were all women, but still, no one had seen me naked since my mother, and she’d left off dressing and bathing me by the time I was five, well before she’d died. My loud protests that I could take care of this myself went entirely ignored. They hadn’t even let me undress myself. Instead, they’d stripped off my blasted clothes for me and practically shoved me in the bath, where they’d given me a cursory once-over with scrub brushes. Everywhere.
My clothes were already being removed from where they’d been discarded in a pile, so there was no chance I could snatch them back to cover myself. The maid picking them up held them away from herself with such horror, it was as if she thought they would come alive and bite her.
“Who would wear a hideous thing like that?” the maid tittered to another in the corner, not quite quietly enough. Or maybe Shadow was enhancing my hearing in this extreme state of mortification.
“What do you expect? I hear she drinks animal blood.”
“Did you know she touched the king? With hands like those!”
If my face wasn’t already burning from the water and the scrubbing, it would be from their words. I wasn’t even sure how I could feel more humiliated than I already did.
Ollava sniffed for about the hundredth time, this time in the direction of my clothes. “To the incinerator with those,” she told the maid.
“No—!” A bucket of water cut off my shout, dumped over my head by another maid. It only stoked my anger instead of dampening it. Sputtering, I said, “Could this water be any hotter? And if you burn my clothes, I’ll…”
I didn’t quite know what I would do, and threatening people was probably yet another uncivilized show of my “rustic upbringing.” Solara had already pointed out several of those, never mind that stripping, sniffing, scrubbing, and then stewing someone to death seemed pretty uncivilized to me.
She was an unfortunate addition to my audience. Her golden hair and creamy skin weren’t in need of washing, only styling and painting, respectively, so she sat at a curving desk of polished dark wood that was nearly as big as the command center of the Kaitan, ringed in lights, mirrors, and a few other maids. Fitting, since she was the pilot of this whole disastrous venture. And yet she looked more like a queen than a captain.