Chapter Two

Carann, Royal Palace

Arta groggily rubbed sleep from her eyes as two of her guards escorted her into a small study in the palace’s royal apartment level; Latharna still hovered protectively just behind her. They’d just been roused less than ten minutes ago and had barely had time to throw on heavier robes over their sleepwear. Based on what Arta had gathered from the guards’ hasty explanation, the issue she had to deal with now wasn’t a dangerous matter, but neither was it something that would improve with age.

The study was plain and bare, and didn’t seem to have been used for some time; aside from the window in the far wall and the bookshelves on the walls, the only notable feature was the desk in the center of the floor, with chairs on either side. Another guard – Leilin Rehan, commander of Arta’s personal detail – stood behind the chair on the far side, in which slumped a battered and tipsy-looking, but undeniably pleased with herself, Karani.

Arta groaned and rubbed her forehead as she sank down into the chair across the desk from her adopted sister. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” she said.

“That depends on what you think it is, little sister,” Karani said, slurring her words slightly. Arta gave her a quick look-over and sighed. Karani’s clothes were torn, she had bruises on her face and her hair had started to come undone from its customary braid, but from her overall air of satisfaction, Arta doubted anything had gone too terribly wrong for her. As she was looking her sister over, Karani seemed to notice Latharna standing behind her and gave a jaunty wave; the Realtran returned the gesture with a flat look.

“Well,” Arta said, “my guards seem to think that you snuck down into the city earlier tonight and got into a bar fight. With a group of knights from Sakran Duchy!” She slid her eyes over her sister again. “And, judging by the state of your appearance, I’d say that sounds pretty accurate. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

“Technically, I started the bar fight,” Karani said. “And I finished it. Otherwise, yeah, that’s pretty accurate.”

“Tell me you didn’t,” Arta groaned, burying her face in her hands and imagining with growing dread how she was going to explain this to Darius at the council meeting tomorrow.”

“I did,” Karani said. “And honestly, Arta, you don’t go into those sorts of places, but if you did, you’d have hit the guy too. He called you a witch.” She paused, looking over Arta’s shoulder at Latharna. “And he called you a freak. And he didn’t actually say the word ‘slut’, but I think it was implied. He deserved it. And so did everyone with him.”

Arta groaned again. “And just how many people did you beat up in a seedy bar, Karani?”

Karani shrugged. “Lost track,” she said. “Wasn’t just me, though. Had help. Lots of people do like you, you know. Just not jerks from Sakran.”

Arta slammed her hands on the table. “It doesn’t matter if they like me, and it doesn’t matter what they said, and it doesn’t matter if they deserved it!” she almost shouted. “Karani, you may not be my sister by blood, but you are my sister, and that means that when you go into a bar and beat up a bunch of people from another duchy for not liking me, it’s a problem! I need Darius’s support in the council, and yes, he’s been trying to do everything he can to prove he’s loyal to the Crown and that he’s not his father, but when you throw the first punch against his people, he has to respond to that! And frankly, you’ll be lucky if you don’t end up on tomorrow’s news.”

She slumped back in her chair and looked over at Rehan. “How’d she get dragged back here, anyway?”

Rehan sighed. “The bar’s owner called the constables when the fight got out of hand and they showed up and arrested everybody, Your Majesty” she said. “One of their officers recognized Lady Karani and called the Guard so we could come pick her up discretely. I don’t know if anyone else recognized her, but I don’t think we’re lucky enough for word to not get out at all.”

“Lord,” Arta muttered, rubbing her forehead again as Latharna put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “The tabloids are going to have a field day with this, aren’t they? I can see the headlines already – ‘Drunken Princess Assaults Loyal Citizens.’”

“Technically, I’m not a princess,” Karani said, raising a finger as if she was a tutor making a point of a particular detail. “’Cause I’m not related to you by blood, so that means I’m not in the line of succession.”

“Somehow, I don’t think people will care,” Arta said. “And the point still stands that you are drunk. Give me your hand.”

“Why?” Karani asked, but nonetheless held out her hand as requested. Arta took it in both of hers and concentrated; blue light and an electric tingle played around their fingers and then Karani suddenly opened her eyes wide and sat back in her chair, seemingly more alert than she’d been during the entire meeting. “Whoa,” she breathed, her speech much clearer. “Well, I was drunk, but I don’t think I am anymore. That was bracing. I did not know you could do that.”

“I found a reference to the technique in a book in the palace library,” Arta said, “though technically it’s for poison and not alcohol, I figured the principle was the same. Since I needed you sober, it seemed like a good time to test it.”

Karani winced. “I guess that was pretty stupid of me, wasn’t it?” she asked. “But I’m not sorry I broke the guy’s nose. If you’d heard the things he was saying about you, you’d agree with me.”

A warm feeling of affection for her sister rose in Arta’s heart, warring with her exasperation. “Well, just go and try to clean yourself up, will you?” she asked. “And see what you can do to hide those bruises. We have an important day tomorrow,” she glanced over at the time displayed on a clock on one of the bookshelves, “or maybe today, by now. Let’s just hope that the dukes aren’t too offended by this – or at least, that they manage to avoid hearing about it until after the meeting.”

“Aye, aye, my Queen,” Karani said, sketching an exaggerated but sincere salute before hauling herself to her feet and leaving the study; Rehan took quick glance at Arta before following her and shutting the study door behind her, leaving Arta and Letharna alone.

When they were gone, Arta looked and the door and shook her head, sighing fondly. “Her heart’s in the right place,” Latharna said. “But maybe she could have done with attending some of Dansa Academy’s classes in diplomacy and etiquette.”

“You underestimate Karani’s ability to avoid learning things that don’t interest her,” Arta said. “But if what she said was at all true, I probably would have hit that Sakran knight too if I’d been there.”

“I’d have probably done worse,” Latharna said, but her tone, rather than being satisfied, was troubled and subdued.

///

Latharna stood in front of the mirror in her personal quarters and adjusted the cape that hung over one shoulder. She was dressed in a fine uniform which resembled those of the palace guard, but was more elaborate, as befitted a knight of the Realm and the Queen’s chosen champion. Her dueling sword hung in a sheath by her side. The uniform was mostly blue with gold thread at the cuffs and across the chest, for those were the colors of the royal house, but her cape was red, the color of Realtran. Together they symbolized who she was now, and where she had come from.

But not, unfortunately, where she was going. She was content with where she was now – more content than she’d ever been in her life – but so much of the future still felt uncertain. She remembered her brave words to Arta after the defeat of the rebel dukes and the escape of Quarinis, when she had promised to find an ideal so grand that even if it could not be attained, it would make a person better in striving for it. So far, she wasn’t sure if she had.

Latharna possessed a tremendous talent for the sword, an inherent gift that had been honed by years of study and practice with Brother Ronall, the swordmaster at the Dansa Academy. But there was something else buried inside her too – a need to fight, a bloodlust she could lose herself in during the heat of battle, and that frightened her. She was scared of the things she might do – of what she might become – if it swallowed her forever, but all the same, she could no more put down her sword forever than she could willingly cut off her arm. She thought she could find a way to channel that ferocity as a weapon in a just cause. Surely the Lord wouldn’t have put this in her if she couldn’t master it, couldn’t use it for something good. She just had to find the way.

Turning away from the mirror, Latharna slid her gaze across her room – a spartan one in many ways; the Headmistress of Dansa Academy had little use for luxuries that didn’t involve her garden or her birds, and she had instilled a similar austerity in her ward. Latharna’s bed was small and plain – and these days rarely slept in, she thought with a faint smile – as was her desk and computer terminal. Otherwise, she had a wardrobe with a selection of court and practical clothes, a stand for her sword – now empty - and, closest to her heart, her personal shrine which she’d brought from her previous quarters and her harp, a gift from Arta. Prayer and music – the books she’d been reading lately suggested various means of calming and disciplining the mind, but those were the ones that worked for her.

Though small by the palace’s standards, these quarters were still on the royal level and were larger than the ones she’d had when she’d served her brief tenure as Ambassador Preas’s aide. Latharna had moved into them after her official promotion to the role of Queen’s Champion, and it had amused her to find that they contained a discreet hallway connecting directly to the royal apartments. Apparently, Arta wasn’t the first monarch to have maintained a… liaison with someone at their court.

Arta and Latharna hadn’t publicly announced their relationship – a monarch was expected to maintain a certain amount of discretion, after all – but neither had they particularly kept it a secret. Latharna wasn’t sure if she was more irritated by people snickering behind their hands and calling her the “Queen’s Mistress” or those who thought the affair was terribly romantic – apparently, the people of the Dozen Stars were quite moved by the idea of a knight and her liege noble finding love, and weren’t shy about explaining that, at length. Well, at least it was slightly less annoying than the young nobles – mostly girls – who had been so impressed by Latharna’s role in the liberation of Aurann and the defeat of Quarinis’s praetorians that they’d decided to make her their role model, to the point that some had started dyeing their hair white in tribute to her. She still didn’t quite know what to make of that.

Latharna paused, taking one last look in the mirror and straightening her cape a final time, before bowing in the direction of her shrine and murmuring a brief prayer for luck before leaving the room. The council meeting would begin soon, and she would be expected at Arta’s side.

///

Arta sat on the throne of the Dozen Stars, clad in an elaborate blue gown and with her crown on her brow; Latharna and Karani stood one step below her on the dais, the former on her right hand, and the latter on her left, positioned as her honor guards. They faced outwards, towards the shimmering silver walls and high, vaulting ceilings of the council chamber, and to the chairs that ringed the throne in a semicircle, now facing inwards. There were eleven of them, for these were the seats of the dukes and duchesses of the Kingdom, and the council was in session – and, in a true rarity, all of its members were present in person.

Duke Mardoban ast Orlanes sat in the chair immediately to Arta’s right; he was a dignified man of middle years in a fine uniform. He had been one of Queen Aestera’s closest friends and one of Arta’s mentors, and he regarded her with a serious expression and warmth in his eyes. Directly across from him sat Darius ast Sakran, just a couple of years older than Arta and as ever, distractingly handsome in the red and gold of his duchy. He had newly come to his post after his father, Duke Naudar, had been revealed as a traitor for his role in the Dukes’ Rebellion.

Beside Mardoban was Kallistrae ast Tantos, ruler of Arta’s home duchy; she also wore a uniform, looking every inch the knight she was. Beside Darius was Digran Tassis of Aurann, recently confirmed; a commoner by birth, he had led the resistance against Duke Respen and become duke after the tyrant’s death, though he’d refused to take the surname ast Aurann or even to add the particle ‘ast’ by itself to his name. He’d told Arta he took pride in his origins, and no matter how far he rose, he’d never stop being who, and what, he was. He was also handsome, though in a more roguish way than Darius; he’d exchanged a flirtatious wink with Karani when he’d entered the chamber, which she’d returned.

To Digran’s left was Vashata ast Malakan, a handsome, athletic woman who seemed to treat everything as a game; to Kallistrae’s was Menandrus ast Kern, a thin man with an oily air who was one of the most openly cynical of the dukes, viewing everything as a means to advance his duchy’s interests. He was related to Arta as some sort of cousin, since her biological father, according to Mardoban and Shiran, had been a nobleman from Kern duchy; Arta had never known the man, who had died shortly after Aestera, and had no particular interest in trying to connect with Menandrus, who wasn’t as nakedly ambitious as Respen or Sateira had been, but was still not someone whose eye she wanted to draw to the throne.

Beside Menandrus sat the youngest member of the council, slightly younger than Arta herself – Ariana ast Tashir, niece of the late and unlamented Sateira. Even by the standards of her wealthy duchy, she was dressed in a rather ostentatious and elaborate – not to mention low-cut - gown, along with enough fine jewelry to fund all of the royal palace’s operations for a month, and Arta thought she seemed to be trying to catch her eye. The fact that Ariana had been one of the first of the council to arrive on Carann and had spent much of that time intimating she would enjoy having a chance to spend time with Arta didn’t do much to change that impression. Of the new leaders of the three duchies that had risen in rebellion, she was the only one who hadn’t directly played a part defeating her predecessor; perhaps she thought to raise her standing with the crown by attracting the queen’s attentions. Which she won’t, Arta thought, as I happen to be taken. But so far, in any case, Ariana had shown no sign of continuing her aunt’s treacherous legacy.

Duke Argus of Rastam and Karous of Saunn, and Duchess Zahra of Medes were all seasoned politicians, but their three duchies were considered the weakest in the Kingdom, and they tended to follow the lead of whoever seemed ascendant at the moment. Between them, directly opposite Arta, sat Duchess Laodamia ast Nadar, by far the longest-serving council member. Her gown was tasteful, her gray hair elegantly arranged, and her deeply lined face was unreadable. She had outlived four husbands and as many monarchs; it was sometimes said that kings and dukes rose and fell, but Laodamia was unmovable. Looking at her now, Arta could believe it.

“Your Graces,” Arta said once everyone was seated and the guards – led by Leilin Rehan and Gilgam, a veteran who had served with Duke Mardoban – had nodded to her that the room was secured. “Thank you all for joining me in person on this historic day. Our beloved Kingdom has been recently torn asunder by civil war, and I wish to extend my thanks to those of you who took a direct part in helping to bring that conflict to a decisive end before more lives were lost or worlds ruined.” Mardoban, Digran, Darius, Kallistrae, Vashata and Laodamia all inclined their heads in acknowledgment. “Those who began this war are now either dead or imprisoned, but the harm they have done lives on, and we all must take steps in order to prevent it from happening again. Therefore, I direct your attention to the items of business which I have forwarded to your personal networks; I trust you have had time to peruse them prior to your arrival here.”

Arta’s fingers tapped the keypad built into the right arm of her throne; a moment later, a holoimage depicting a length document appeared in midair before her. Around the room, the council members did the same. “During the Dukes’ Rebellion,” Arta continued, “I saw our Kingdom’s laws and traditions brutally abused to serve the ambitions of tyrants and madmen while their people suffered. I say to you now that this cannot be allowed to continue. I seek to institute these reforms in order to prevent something like the Dukes’ Rebellion from happening again, but I am not a tyrant like Verus Licinius of the Empire. It has long been our law and tradition in the Dozen Stars to place matters such as these – matters which effect the entire Kingdom – before the council to vote. Therefore, Your Graces, I open the floor for discussion.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Menandrus ast Kern said, “but I have read these proposals in detail, and they are absurd. To begin with, you wish to institute the Code of Carann as a standardized legal code across the Kingdom? You have no right!”

“I believe she does, if a majority of us vote along with her,” Mardoban said. “And besides, several duchies already use the Code of Carann as a model for their laws; Orlanes does, as, I believe, does Sakran. The Code grants rights and protections under the law to all subjects of the Dozen Stars, regardless of rank. Personally, I find it a quite enlightened system.”

“Adopting the code was your predecessors’ right and choice,” Menandrus said. “But it has been the tradition of the Dozen Stars that each duke or duchess be permitted to rule their duchy as they see fit, not beholden to laws imposed from Carann!”

Digran snorted. “Yes,” he said. “And that meant that if some bastard of a duke decided he wanted to be a tyrant, nobody could stop him so long as he kept it to his own turf. Convenient, that.” His hand rose and absently rubbed his neck; Arta knew he’d once worn a slave collar there, and still had the scars. “I took this position not because I wanted privilege or power for myself, but to ensure freedom and safety for my people. I say that if tradition lets monsters like Mad Duke Respen keep their power, and these new laws don’t, then Her Majesty’s proposal has my support.”

“And mine,” Ariana added; a little too quickly, Arta thought. “Tashir Duchy deeply regrets its role in the hostilities, and we wish to do all we can to prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again. We are at Her Majesty’s disposal.”

“Be that as it may,” Kallistrae said, running a finger down the list, “these proposals also include heavily restricting the power of the Guilds. They are not going to like this, Your Majesty. Not one bit.”

“The Guilds claim to be the voice of the common people, and a path anyone can take to power and wealth,” Arta said, “but I think we both know that in reality, almost all of that wealth goes into the guildmasters’ pockets as they happily exploit their workers to enrich themselves. I know you haven’t forgotten how Guild Security threw in with Sateira, Respen and Naudar for the promise of profit when they seized your planet. I do not propose abolishing the guilds, but I feel recent events have proven they must be reined in – and the common people assured protection from depredations that might as well be piracy.” Several of the dukes looked uncomfortable at that; Menandrus and Ariana in particular ruled planets that had close ties to the Guilds. Kallistrae merely looked determined and angry; she’d nearly lost her planet to Guild treachery not so long ago.

“I am intrigued by this final proposal,” Laodamia said, scrolling her list down to the bottom. “The creation of a representative body modelled on the Realtran Parliament to meet here on Carann to serve as a counterbalance to the power of the council and the throne. It’s a bold move. Not unprecedented – several of our duchies already have such bodies, including my own Nadar – but not something ever before done on this scale, at least not in our Kingdom. I admire the idea in principle, but I have to wonder if such a sweeping change could feasibly be implemented.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Menandrus said. “Just another attempt to unify power here on Carann, and under Her Majesty’s thumb. The Dozen Stars was founded on a principle of home rule for the Duchies. Artakane, you may say you’re not like Verus Licinius, but you certainly seem to be acting like him, seeking means to enforce your personal power where it is neither needed nor wanted.”

“The parliamentary representatives will be elected by the people of their duchies, not appointed by me,” Arta said. “Therefore, their loyalty will be to their constituency first, rather than to the throne, giving the people a direct voice in their government. The dukes and barons will, of course, retain their votes and their titles, providing stability in the form of leaders who do not need to worry about being re-elected. I have studied the Realtran system thoroughly,” she added drily. “And for several hundred years, it seems to have worked.”

“Yes, but we are not Realtrans!” Duke Karous declared. “We are the Kingdom of the Dozen Stars, and we do not need some… assembly… to tell us how to rule our duchies!”

“Yes, and we’ve clearly been doing that so well,” Vashata said. “Last I looked, Realtran hasn’t had a civil war or major insurrection in a hundred years and hasn’t had a monarch assassinated in longer than that. A better record than we have.”

“I admit, I’m curious,” Darius said, leaning forward. “We have a parliamentary assembly on Sakran as well. But I do have to wonder about one thing – democratic systems are a fine idea in theory, but in practice they can be easily swayed by public opinion or fall prey to corruption. What’s to stop the Guilds or nobles from trading influence with money, or a charismatic demagogue from subverting the entire system through personal force of will? How are you going to enforce your ideas, Your Majesty? Especially across a dozen duchies whose people, to be honest, are often more loyal to their own planets than they are to the Kingdom as a whole?”

Arta opened her mouth to speak – this was one area where she was still troubled and uncertain – but before she could, the door to the chamber opened and a guard entered. He quickly conferred with Rehan, who nodded and hurried over to the throne, going down on one knee. “Forgive the interruption,” she said, “but we have a situation. A shuttle has just entered orbit, Your Majesty. It has broadcast a message declaring itself a diplomatic craft, and its signal appears legitimate.”

“What nation is it from, Captain?” Arta asked, but in her heart, she knew the answer. Dread seized her.

“The shuttle is from the Empire, Your Majesty,” Rehan said. “And its passengers demand immediate audience.”