“She doesn’t stepfootoutside of the Green Zone,” he growled pointedly at Nova. He couldn’t command the Qorrea, but someone else’s head could roll if things went sideways.
“On my life, General,” Nova nodded.
“You are back before dinner,” he hissed at Yemi as she and Nova made their way to the stairs.
Yemi smiled to keep from laughing. “Onmylife, General.”
The city was in the middle of a transformation, somewhere between its idyllic sea-sainted past and a dented metal future. The Butterfly Wars had seen the country advance its technology quickly, according to her mother. There were living grandparents older than the electrical grid, and parents still older than the telephone system. Power and telephone lines ran in ribbons along the facades ofbuildings, gathering at towering poles at the ends of cross streets. Electric cars had halved the number of hand-crank amblers walking vehicles and the horse-drawn carriages that preceded them, making for considerably less shit in the roads but an underdeveloped sense of traffic patterns. As such, the going was slow, and Moss made conversation as they waited a few feet at a time for pedestrians to clear the way.
The sun was high, and bright linen awnings extended over where reading and gardening happened on active rooftops. Small children on sidewalks picked at their own noses or their mothers’ braids while slung on their backs. Food scents wafted in through the window from restaurants and the home hearths on the floors above them. Bright banners were suspended over the street, marking the queen’s upcoming Day of Days celebration. Passersby were beginning to take notice of the royal sigil on the car doors, and occasionally one would double-take before quickly giving them a wide berth.
“Moss, do you mind if we walk from here? We’re like a rock in a river. At this rate, I’ll never find a sandwich, much less have time to eat it.”
“Oh,Isee, youwantCutter to kill us all,” said Nova.
“Who’s Cutter killing? Shit, not me,” Moss chuckled. “I’ve still got a bag of tricks that young man wouldn’t know nothing about.”
“Oh, relax, precious, no one’s killing anyone unless I order it,” Yemi told Nova.
“Yeah, you say that, but…” Nova muttered.
“Go on ahead, I’ll find you. Be safe about it, though,” Moss said.
“Thank you.” Yemi sighed relief and reached her hand over his shoulder. He kissed her ring and gave her fingers a little shake.
“Anytime, My Light.” He winked.
“Stay on this street. I’ll send word to let you know where we end up,” Nova told him before getting out to open Yemi’s door.
Liberated, Yemi took a deep breath of the juniper-and-eucalyptus air, and they both moved into the city with the flow of traffic on the narrow sidewalks.
She wore no crown, only her collare and the ring she hid with her hands clasped behind her back. Many here knew her face and—perhaps more importantly—Nova’s. As they took notice, they’d remove themselves from her path with as deep a bow as they could manage in the crowd. Yemi made compulsory eye contact with this or that citizen and gave them an absent nod, barely registering the responses of “My Light” or “My Shield.” As Ixian royalty, she was their Light, as it was her they followed in dark places. She was their Shield because she was as much their protector as they were hers. She was a dozen other titles owed to tales of antiquity and distributed to monarchs just because. But she was only ever Yemaya, Yemi, to a few.
“So what is this about?” Nova asked. She walked casually beside Yemi, but her eyes were piercing and focused, scanning for threats on the active street.
“You know what it’s about,” Yemi replied quietly. Misgivings about royal duty weren’t meant for civilian ears. “I just need a little space. A moment of feeling like a person before I’m a crown—and a target.”
“You’re both those things now.”
“Notonlythose things. You know what I mean.”
Nova gave her an apologetic look and put up her hands. “Sorry, it was meant to be funny. I know you’re bored. And… seeing the queen that way can’t be easy for you, either. I get it.”
“But?” Yemi prompted.
“But once you ascend, who’s going to tell you not to do what you want? You won’t have to stay in a cage.”
“I will if I can’t trust my country beyond a few city blocks.”
Nova said nothing. Yemi assumed it was because they both knew the same truth. The Green Zone was the two-mile radius beyond the Rock that was considered completely safe space for the royals. Every building was marked with a swipe of green paint near the roof line and a small iron bear statue placed beside painted front doors or in balcony gardens as symbols of allegiance to Her Royal Animus. The military and their families resided here, and anyone else who lived, worked, or opened a business here underwent an aggressive vettingprocess for the permit to do so. Anyone in the Green Zone had pledged public loyalty to the Crown. Even a block beyond it, things were a little less certain.
They entered a neighborhood block where street vendors were abundant. Yemi saw an elderly woman beneath an awning of suspended mandolins plucking one of the instruments herself, goading a seller of hand drums across the street into a song about a drunken sea god. An auntie dressed in layers of white linen who knew and apparently loved the song spun herself into a dance off the edge of the sidewalk. The traffic halted to let her, and Yemi stopped to watch. The Blessed Torque, they called it—the odd, arrhythmic jerk of the limbs amid flowing movements, made to mimic the long-gone days when the Obé Ursla would possess bodies of the faithful and move them about to her whims. Beaded jewelry on the woman’s wrists and ankles glittered in the sun, and the singing voices of pedestrians drifted in and out as they passed through the area.
These were the brilliant, animated moments Yemi would miss when she was confined to the palace. Moments her mother probably hadn’t seen since she was a child.
Inevitably, the auntie spotted her, whether familiar with her face or with the space Nova had carved around her for her protection. The song came to its natural end, and the woman ceased her dance, and went panting into a deep bow facing her Qorrea. Yemi led the enthusiastic applause and gestured for everyone to stop their confused bowing and kneeling to instead praise the woman. Cameras flashed their loud, white light in the taking of pictures sure to feature in tomorrow’s paper. She reached out and helped the woman to her feet, a few pieces of gold tucked into a hand as tribute to whatever order of priestess she represented. The woman smiled brightly and kissed her ring before Nova grunted in a way Yemi understood meant that it was time to keep moving.
A block later, they ducked into a taproom selected more for the craftsmanship of the open bear mouth framing the massive doors in the facade than for any promise of sandwiches. Nova paid a small boyto run up the block and report to Moss where they’d landed, and he took off in a flash.
