“Th-That’s not what I mean.” The words scrape out sharper than I intend, but once they’re loose, I can’t call them back. “You took me from my home under guard. My mother is gone. I need—” My voice catches. “I need to know where she is.”
He cuts into a slice of meat, unbothered. “It appears she left.”
Anger surges up to drown my fear. “She wouldn’t leave me. Not like this.”
For the first time since entering this room, something shifts in his expression … a shadow across his features, too quick to name. Then it’s gone. “Believe what you wish.”
I clench my napkin in my lap. Every instinct screams to stay quiet, keep my head down. But the thought of Mother alone and afraid burns louder than fear. “You brought me here to replace her. She isn’t one to discuss patients and their private matters, but you needed her here every day …why?”
His knife stills. He doesn’t answer.
“I know you’re sick.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. My chest tightens with panic at my own boldness. “I see it. The tremor. The way your face pales when something hurts. You try to hide it, but?—”
“Enough.” His voice cuts sharp.
I should back down. I know I should. But grief drives me forward. “If you want my help, Your Grace … then tell me the truth. Tell me what happened to her.”
His hand slams the table. The sound makes the servants flinch, and my own fork clatters against porcelain.
“You are here,” he snarls, “to heal me. That is all.”
The words ring in the silence. My throat tightens, but I manage to whisper, “And if I refuse?”
His jaw clenches so hard I hear the grind of teeth. For a heartbeat, his composure cracks – the faintest flicker of fear in his eyes, raw and unguarded. Then he shoves back from the table, chair scraping the floor.
“You won’t refuse,” he growls, voice lower now, almost ragged. “Because you need answers. And because … I willnotlose you, too.”
The words leave me frozen, unsure if I even heard them right. Before I can speak, he strides from the hall, firelight trembling in his wake.
I sit there long after he’s gone, shaking so hard I can barely breathe, servants avoiding my gaze as they tidy. The clatter of dishes being cleared sounds too loud in the cavernous hall, each clink of silver against porcelain making me flinch. I excuse myself from the table, eager to retreat to my chambers and process everything that just happened. I walk briskly, at first confident that I remember the way back to the tower the guards led me to only hours ago … three turns, past the portrait gallery, down the stairs with the bronze railing. I make it to the second landing before I realize the tapestry I’m looking for isn’t there.
I end up in a corridor I don’t recognize. The doors here are plain wood instead of carved, spaced evenly along both walls like servants’ quarters or storage. The air smells like lamp oil and old stone, coolerthan the main halls. My footsteps ring against marble, each one loud enough to announce me. The wall sconces burn too dim and too far apart, shadows pooling between each circle of light.
One of the doors stands cracked open, yellow lamplight bleeding across the floor in a clean line. A man’s voice carries through, speaking fast.
“General Thane, we need a plan of action – the outer rim situation is deteriorating faster than we anticipated?—”
I pause in the corridor, my pulse still hammering from dinner. I know I shouldn’t listen, but I can’t stop myself from taking a step closer.
“How much faster?” A deep voice replies, and I can only assume it’s General Thane speaking.
“Three more convoys attacked this week. The pirates are getting bolder, more organized. And Jupiter’s response—” the voice pauses. “Lord Castor deployed military forces without consulting Central Authority. The Cardinals are furious, but there’s nothing they can do about it.”
“And Saturn?”
“Lord Evander’s implemented new trade regulations that directly contradict system-wide policies. And – to add fuel to the flame – Mercury’s threatening to cut communication access to any planet that doesn’t comply with their revised communication protocols.” The sound of papers rustling. “The Houses are starting to act independently. The Cardinal’s authority is crumbling.”
I furrow my brow, processing this information. It’s been seventeen years since the Cardinals took power after the Sun King’s death – long enough for fear of tyranny to fade, long enough for ambition to ignite again. Mars continues to carry the weight of defending the system, bleeding so the rest can sleep easy.
A long silence stretches between them.
“You think they’ll demand a ruler? Call a vote?” General Thane asks gruffly.
“I think they have no choice.” The voice drops. “They need a Sovereign to hold the system together.”
“Are you concerned about Lord Zevran’s fitness for this position, Commander Nael?”
The directness of the statement catches me off guard. I press closer to the door, straining to hear the response.
