Back in my room, I lay the page across my bed and study it in the lamplight. Names I know. All of them owing my mother something, all of them bound to her by debts of gratitude.
What was she planning? What was she building toward?
And why did someone need to stop her badly enough to erase her completely?
The craving is still there, gnawing at me, but it’s quieter now. Pushed aside by something stronger: purpose.
Someone tried very hard to make my mother disappear.
I’m going to find out why.
Ihear the wordConclavelong before I’m meant to.
It’s morning, and I’m wandering the lesser kitchens in search of something to eat that isn’t drenched in spice or gold flakes. The room is all exposed brick and hanging copper, steam rising from massive pots on cast-iron stoves. Strings of dried herbs dangle from the rafters, releasing their scent into the humid air. The staff turn a blind eye to me, too busy with the day’s preparations.
As I bite into a ripe Venus apple, I pause at the sound of two cooks scrubbing copper pots near the hearth, their voices low but sharp. One is older, with flour dusting her tan arms up to the elbows and her grey hair tied back in a practical knot. The other is middle-aged with long red hair, all nervous energy as she scrubs harder than necessary.
“Seventeen years,” the red-haired cook mutters, scouring the pot with angry strokes. “Seventeen yearsof Cardinal rule, and now suddenly they want a sovereign again?”
“It’s system-wide chaos,” the older cook replies, glancing over her shoulder. “Pirates attacking, colonies refusing Central Authority. My cousin’s in Mercury communications – says whole sectors have gone dark.” She drops her scrubbing pad with a thud. “The Cardinals are losing control, and they know it.”
“So they think a crown will fix what their committees couldn’t?”
A bitter laugh. “They just want someone else to carry the blame. Almost twenty years of ‘collaborative governance,’ and the system’s rotting from the edges.”
“Hmm. And I heard from Elsie…” The red-haired woman pauses torinse her hands before speaking again. “Commander Nael’s been named Regent. They only do that for a Conclave…”
The word still rings in my ears as I slip away.
Conclave…
Among commoners, it’s half myth – an ancient gathering of planetary House leaders to choose the Solar Sovereign, the one ruler meant to unite and defend the system. I used to hear it whispered in the markets, almost like a fairy tale: three trials to prove worth, diplomacy laced with danger, where winning meant the throne and losing could mean death.
Conclaves are meant to be called after a Sovereign dies. But almost twenty years ago, all of the House leaders were too young, and everyone was afraid to risk another tyrant. So the Cardinals ruled instead.
The Sun King’s Conclave is still whispered about: votes bought with threats, rivals vanishing before trials, Houses submitting rather than watching their heirs die in “accidents.” He’s been gone more than a decade, and yet the shadow of his reign lingers.
Now the system demands a ruler again.
Which means Lord Zevran will be drawn into it.
By midday, a guard appears at my chamber door.
“His Grace requests your presence in the great hall.”
The hall is crowded with nobles, silk and jewels glittering like watchful eyes. I keep to the edge, trying to disappear into the margins.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a tall figure approaching the red throne at the opposite end of the chamber. His Grace is clad in royal uniform, the reds and blacks stark against his tan complexion. The fabric fits close to his frame, his grey eyes surveying the room. His jaw looks clenched behind a touch of stubble.
Lord Vance spots me from the front row, frowns, and whispers to his companion. My stomach knots.
A hush ripples over the chamber as a stoic, middle-aged envoyenters in white and silver robes – the colours of the Cardinals. He carries a scroll sealed with wax, which he ceremoniously unfurls.
“By decree of the System Cardinals, and under alignment of the twin suns, the Solar Conclave shall convene on the moon of Talis. Each planetary Kingdom is to send their Head of House to compete in the sacred trials and cast a final vote for the new Solar Sovereign.”
Whispers break loose at once, eager and dangerous.
I look toward Lord Zevran. His face gives nothing away, though his hand curls briefly against the throne’s armrest.
