“Beesting’s a cussable offense.” Luzon shrugged. Sumire was his baby sister and diminutive even for her small age, which made it funnier.
“Oh look, a ‘captain of industry.’?” Yemi snickered, pointing her chin at a bearded man next in the receiving line, wearing a marigold jacket as loud as his laugh.
“Oh!” Marvel Packard chortled and bent theatrically at the waist before Yemi and then leaned backward as if it were necessary to take her in. “My, my, my, my, my! They told me our godswalkamong us, but, My Light, you need onlystandand your divinity is clear.” He smiled, revealing so many teeth Yemi thought he’d dislocate his jaw.
She chuckled nervously and gave Luzon an uncomfortable side glance. “Mr. Packard, who is the show for exactly? We just saw each other.” She stifled a laugh.
“Call it humility, my not-flaunting my closeness with the royal gods of Ixia in front of the monied rabble. Though maybe we’re not as close as I thought we were if you’re still calling me ‘Mr. Packard.’?” He winked.
“Perish the thought. Please enjoy the party.” She stepped back slightly, as if she might have been obstructing his leaving.
Marvel Packard nodded but didn’t move. Didn’t blink, either. He just waited.
“… Marvel,” she added.
“There it is!” He laughed again, startling her. But at least he got moving. “Highness.” He nodded at Luzon as he passed.
“Wow,” Luzon remarked as he summoned more champagne.
“Pace yourself, this’ll go all night,” Yemi told him. She turned herfixed smile to acknowledge the other nameless strangers standing by for her attention.
The double doors behind them opened, and Orie stepped out ahead of the queen. Cutter followed behind her and stood in the back. His armor was so brightly polished that it was sure to cause problems for the photographers.
The queen was greeted with all the boisterous applause a polite, affluent assembly could muster without a hair coming out of place. Her bear mask was gold to match her gown, and her headdress resembled the sun, its twisted rays dripping with rubies. She stood upright, statuesque, and raised her walking cane by way of salute, a wordless gesture of triumph. Orie directed her to the microphone stand centered on the stairs before the garden. She could not go among the people, but they would hear her broadcast live over radio waves. The crowds hushed, and even the fireworks in the city below seemed to silence themselves to listen.
“There was a time when I could not imagine I could be celebrated,” she began. “Not here. Or that we’d have time to do any celebrating before running into the next fight or the next funeral. Today marks the eighth year I did not think I would see at all. But you have shown me the truth of Ixia, that it is not slave to its dissenters, its radical factions who seek war to give themselves purpose. Our people are kindness. We are powerful in the way we treat one another as family, as neighbors, as allies. I grow more in love with our nation every day, and I continue to be humbled by your service, your dedication to maintaining our era of peace. And I thank you all for celebrating with me today.”
The applause went up again, followed by the music and the resumption of distant, colorful blasts.
The queen stepped back and took both Yemi’s and Luzon’s hands.
“How was that?” she asked, joy lilting in her voice as she squeezed.
“Stunning as always, Mommy.” Yemi kissed the cheek of her mask.
“Breathtaking,” said Luzon. The queen palmed his face affectionately—she’d always regarded him as something of a son.
“Didn’t keep you waiting too long, I hope. I know these receivinglines can be endless,” she said, taking the seat that had been brought out for her.
“Nothing you could have helped,” said Yemi.
“Well, don’t let me keep you. Off you go. Mingle, find some fun to have.”
Yemi caught sight of Selah standing small and hunched and morose in the corridor behind them. She didn’t appear dressed for the occasion or interested in partaking.
She wished she could see her mother’s face.
The Drakes arrived on the balcony. Each was dressed in a blue shade the color of the night sky, their white hair stark against it. Dorian’s eyes stayed on the queen, but Dahlia looked right at Yemi until her father’s speaking voice called her attention.
“My queen,” he said, taking a knee before them. Dahlia followed suit. “My daughter, as you requested.”
“My Light, I’ve come to beg your forgiveness, and yours, Qorrea, for the traitorous speech to which you bore witness. I meant no disrespect, merely to participate in the exchange of ideas you’ve granted our people in your infinite grace. But I realize my behavior left my motives unclear, and I can understand your outrage.” Dahlia’s words came out in a torrent, obviously rehearsed and disingenuous.
“Can you?” Yemi asked. But her mother raised her fingers to stay any further commentary.
“Eyes up, child,” said the queen. Dahlia looked at her. “Your father conveyed to you our disappointment, didn’t he? How we expect greater things from you than the company you’ve chosen to keep?”
“Yes, My Light.”
