He licked his lips, probing at the cracks there, and swallowed a sigh. The Southern Plains that made up the northwest area of Solaria weren’t nearly as hot as the desert-edged hill country he called home. The western rainforest and eastern swamps clung to the edge of the continent, but the Wastelands crept ever northward over the years.
The road became more crowded with vehicles and travelers the closer they got to Bellingham, the offshoot roads bringing farmers and merchants from the outlying towns and villages in thevasilyet.
The walls of the city towered higher than any building save the tallest Star Order temple, the spire there lit at the top with a fire that never burned out. Vanya could see it winking brightly against the blue sky. So, too, could he see the Imperial flag flying above the main gate next to the House of Kimathi flag.
Good. His mother was still in residence.
The black tapestries that hung from the wall on either side of the main gate were cause for concern. The Dawn Star’s constellation was painted in gold at the top of each tapestry, while a prayer for the dead took up the rest of the space. Such a tapestry was only ever raised for the House that controlled the Imperial throne.
“Someone thinks you’re dead,” Soren called over his shoulder against the wind as he weaved around several motor carriages pulling into the line to get inside the city.
Vanya raked his gaze over the mourning of his name on the tapestries and grimaced. Perhaps he should have attempted a telegram or found a place that had a telephone. It was too late now to regret his silence, not when they had finally reached Bellingham.
Peacekeepers manned the checkpoint into Bellingham alongside several legionnaires, taking record of citizens and foreigners who had come to visit. Bellingham was a major trade city, with most of its commerce running across the Daijal border. The House of Kimathi oversaw the day-to-day business of trade for the Imperial throne, and that House’s wealth and status was bested by none save the House of Sa’Liandel and the House of Vikander in the northeast.
It was why the marriage contract had been initiated to begin with. The House of Vikander was already loyal to the Imperial throne—as loyal as a House might be. His bloodline had spent several generations and an untold amount of political and societal clout to gain that House’s support. They’d then turned their sights on the House of Kimathi, whose disdain for Vanya’s family was well known and ran deep.
But disdain was not enough for them to say no to a marriage between one of their own and the Imperial crown prince when his mother had first put forth the offer. Vanya had thought the House of Kimathi had approved of the match after a year of negotiation. The wreckage he’d left on the railroad tracks in the south spoke otherwise.
He had no proof of treachery, though, only history.
Soren ignored the tidy line of travelers waiting to pass through the pillared main entrance and drove to the gate. He braked to a halt when ordered to by a couple of legionnaires who weren’t shy about pointing their service pistols at them.
“State your business,” one called out as the soldiers approached. The tan of their uniforms was broken up by the crimson-and-whiteeffiyehthey wore on their heads, held in place by a black band.
Soren’s status as a warden should have given him right of passage, but Vanya supposed the false news of his death had put everyone on edge. He removed the helmet and slid off the velocycle.
“Is this any way to greet your prince?” Vanya asked, holding himself up tall despite the ache in his ribs and ankle. Soren’s bruise balm had eased some of the sharpest pain, but it couldn’t heal him completely.
His robes were a mess, but the ranking medallion was in full view, and there was no denying who he was. The soldiers’ eyes all went wide, faces washing out pale in shock. The woman who had spoken took a step forward, the ranking stripes on her uniform jacket’s upper arms indicating she was in charge.
She went to one knee, fist over her heart and head bowed, her fellow soldiers half a second behind her in their show of respect. “Your Imperial Highness.”
Her voice shook, but there was a brightness in her blue eyes that he read as relief. Around them, the line of travelers was erupting in a raucous chorus of disbelieving cheers to welcome him back from the dead in a way that was not a horror. The lieutenant got to her feet, slipping her pistol into its holster before giving him a sharp salute.
“The empress is in residence at the Imperial estate. I will send a legionnaire on ahead to inform Her Imperial Majesty of your return. The rest of us will escort you,” she said.
Vanya nodded, agreeable to her quick decision-making. “I will ride with the warden.”
“I’m fairly certain they have a motor carriage you can use,” Soren said as Vanya retook his seat.
“I have a feeling if I let you go, I would not see you again. We still have unfinished business between us.”
Soren revved the engine, guiding his velocycle forward at a speed slow enough for the soldiers to keep up at until they could make it to their own vehicles. “You owe me nothing.”
Vanya let the argument lie in favor of the winding ride through Bellingham to the Imperial estate, flanked by more and more legionnaires as the crowds gathered to cheer his arrival. Every major city in Solaria had an estate house that belonged to the Imperial throne, a place of residence they stayed in when visiting the far-flung corners of the empire.
He supposed arriving home in a more discreet manner might have been the safer alternative, but Vanya didn’t particularly care to hide the fact he wasn’t dead. If anyone within the House of Kimathi had ordered his murder, then he wanted them to know they had failed.
When Soren finally drove through the gates leading to the Imperial estate, his mother and father were waiting for him, standing on the grand pillared porch, dressed all in mourning black despite the heat. Every household servant lined the front drive, bowing as they drove past. The legionnaires on duty all saluted, and the cheering from the streets didn’t abate at all.
Soren braked to a halt at the bottom of the steps leading to the estate’s front entrance. Vanya slid off the velocycle and ignored the pain in his ankle to climb the steps to his parents, heart beating fast.
When he reached the porch, Vanya bowed, despite the ache in his ribs. “Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated, my Lady Mother. I apologize for any grief it may have caused you, but I am not dead.”
Empress Zakariya Sa’Liandel stepped forward and folded him into her embrace, hands clutching at him tightly. She didn’t cry, but the redness to her eyes and hitch to her breath was evidence enough of the grief she’d borne for the last several days.
“My darling prince,” Zakariya said, pulling back so she could frame his face with both her hands, her gold rings cool against his skin. “It is sogoodto see you returned to us.”
