“Lady Zabeth Tandor of the Tao-Trans Corporation and my daughter, Lady Lavinia Leontes.” Edric gestures to the cold porcelain woman and her daughter with the violet eyes. The emperor nods as Lady Tandor and Lavinia step forward. They curtsy.
“Lady Tandor,” the old Patriarch croaks. “Your father’s manufacturing ensures the Banshee Rail connects all of Meridian. Your sondis and screamers let us reach the farthest Isles of Tao with ease. The honor is mine.”
“Thank you, Old Wusong. My father hopes that you will see fit to grant him a deed to expand his leases past the Twilight Band and into the Nightside. We also hope the High Synod will revisit our family’s petition to enter the ranks of the Pantheon . . .”
The emperor waves a gnarled hand. “Twelve families for the twelve regiments. Four high seats for the Great Song and his generals. No more. No less. That is the tradition.”
Lady Tandor nods but does not give up. “Surely times change, Old Wusong. House Leontes was added . . .”
“House Leontes was an exception.” He nods at my father, mildly annoyed. “When House Tandor presents a two-time champion of the Combat, your family’s petition may be reconsidered. For now, the imperial house abides by all decisions of the High Synod.”
Lady Tandor purses her lips but bows her head in deference. The old man grins wickedly. I see his teeth are all painted black. The look is terrifying. My mother squeezes my hand, silently warning me not to make a sound.
“A christening is not the place for politics,” Old Wusong croaks.
“Forgive me, Grand Patriarch. I thought such events were about not much else.” Lady Tandoor smiles in return.
Old Wusong cackles. “Perhaps! Though, some of us are more skilled at subtlety.”
He turns his slitted gaze upon the girl at Lady Tandor’s side. “Lady Lavinia. What a pretty little thing you are.” Lavinia steps forward and curtsies. “Lady Lavinia. So wonderful you have received such a noble title. Though neither your father nor your mother was actually noble born.”
I can’t pull my gaze from my father, his handsome features, his fearsome stature, but now I see him clench his jaw at the slight. This is the second time I’ve seen the emperor suggest my father’s ascension was anything but providence. The emperor likes to diminish him, I realize. Edric could snap the old man in half! Why doesn’t he?
Once I asked my mother about Edric. She told me, “He’s stronger than anyone on this world, Edmon, yet feels he must forever conquer a society that views him as unworthy. He tries to be like them. They love him, but they will never fully accept him. Daysiders learned this lesson long ago—only be yourself. Do you understand?”
Now, I understand. Edric wasn’t born of the nobility. He grew up in the arcologies. And, like me, he doesn’t want to be different.
My sister’s voice snaps me back to the present. “Nobility isn’t blood in your veins, Grand Patriarch.” She startles everyone by challenging the old man. “It’s the blood you can spill from your enemy.”
The old man’s shrewd eyes narrow. “Explain yourself, my lady.”
Edric steps forward to interrupt, but the emperor taps his cane, stopping my father in his tracks. The whole room is on edge. If he doesn’t like what Lavinia says, I don’t know what will happen. They could throw her to the fires of the Pavaka. My father, the man I’ve heard is stronger than all others, is powerless to do a thing.
“It should be obvious to someone of your intelligence, Grand Patriarch.” Lavinia’s fine brows arch. “History is written by the victors. And victors can say whoever they want is noble.”
“How old are you, girl?” Old Wusong rasps.
“Thirteen, Grand Patriarch.”
My mouth drops open. I feel my mother squeeze my hand again, so I stay quiet. Lavinia is so petite, I thought she was my age. I’m shocked by this revelation.
Old Wusong strokes his wispy mustache. “What do you know of victory in battle, my lady?”
“Conflict isn’t merely physical, Old Wusong. Every interaction is a battle. An exchange of words for instance.”
Another moment of silence hangs thick. Anyone who speaks this way to the Grand Patriarch of the ruling houses of Tao must be insane.
The man breaks the silence with a full belly laugh. “Thank you, my dear, for such a formidable lesson!” The old emperor addresses my father. “This one is clever and cunning, Leontes. She will make a fine addition to your household.”
“Lavinia has already served as one of my scriveners, Grand Patriarch,” Edric says. “I hope she will continue to serve me through marriage to another great house.”
“Do you have someone picked for her?” My father moves to answer, but Old Wusong cuts him off. “Be mindful that she always has meat to chew. Hunters are dangerous when hungry. Especially those who kill with their tongues.” The old man laughs. He turns back to Lady Tandor. “A pleasure, my lady.”
Lady Tandor and Lavinia step back in line with the rest of the coterie.
My father clears his throat. “Next my—”
Old Wusong stamps his cane, cutting Edric off again. My father’s glacial eyes flash.
Everyone has someone they serve, I realize. Even my father.
“Step forward,” Old Wusong says, beckoning Lady Calay and her doll of a daughter. Lady Calay gracefully bows before the shriveled old man. Her child does the same. “I am Lady Tamara Calay of House Angevin, here to serve you, Grand Patriarch,” she says.
“Beautiful and compliant,” Old Wusong muses. “What more could one want in a companion?”
I feel my mother stiffen at my side. Lady Tandor practically sneers at the word compliant.
“And who is this little figurine you bring, my lady?” Old Wusong asks.
“This, Grand Patriarch, is my daughter, Lady Phoebe Leontes.” Lady Calay nudges her daughter forward. The little painted doll curtsies.
“How old are you, Phoebe Leontes?” Old Wusong leans forward.
“I’m three, Grand Pat-arch,” the little girl says.
“Do you like chocolate, Phoebe?” Old Wusong grins.
“What’s chocolate?” she asks innocently.
Old Wusong snaps his fingers. A steward emerges from the bevy of bystanders and kneels before the girl. He holds in his hands a little square of a rich brown color.
“Our new friends, arrived through the Fracture Point, have provided us with this delicacy. I’m told that the substance is manufactured according to a recipe of Ancient Earth.” The hall murmurs at this bit of news.
My ears prick up at the mention of travelers and Ancient Earth. All my life I’ve dreamed of traveling to the different planets of the known universe. The Fracture Corridors, a series of interconnected cracks in the dark matter of the cosmos, make it possible. I hope someday I’ll see the stars, too. Not through the drowning lights of Meridian twilight, but through the portholes of a real rocket looking straight into unfiltered black.
Be here and now, Edmon, I admonish myself. Still, chocolate. Something so small and silly opens my mind to a world of possibilities.
Old Wusong waves Lady Calay and her daughter back into line. “Now, Leontes, your son. Your first son,” Old Wusong beckons.