The Diabolic

  The mattress dipped beneath a new weight. A hand touched my arm.

  “Sidonia.”

  I sat up so quickly, Neveni jumped.

  “Oh, it’s you,” I said breathlessly.

  Neveni, her face grave, did not return my smile.

  “I don’t pretend to understand your sudden feelings for Tyrus Domitrian,” she said. “I can only assume it’s a reaction to your grief.”

  “Grief?” I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the cobwebs of sleep from my mind.

  “You lost your entire family. You’re alone in the universe now, and I can’t possibly imagine how painful that is.” She squeezed my arm. “That’s why I’ve argued your case to the others. They know who your father is and what he tried to do—the way he tried to pass information on to the Excess. For that reason alone, they’ve agreed that you won’t be judged, even though you are an Imperial Senator.”

  I was on my feet so quickly, I wasn’t aware of deciding to stand. “What do you mean, Neveni?”

  She flinched at the way I leaned over her, but rose with all the dignity she could muster, her dark eyes glittering with resolve. “Lumina has left the Empire. We’re not going to be persuaded otherwise. We’re through with imperial domination. We may not have the Emperor on hand to punish for his crimes against our people, but the Successor Primus will make a fine stand-in.”

  I spoke in a growl: “Oh, no, he won’t.”

  “It’s already done.” She shrugged. “They took him during the night. He’s been tried, judged, and will soon be sentenced to be execu—”

  I struck her.

  Neveni shrieked as she tumbled to the ground. Before she could recover her footing, I seized her by the hair and pulled her up. “Where?”

  “Help!” she shouted. “Help!”

  The doors parted and in swarmed guards who’d obviously been prepared for just this occasion. My eyes ran over them. Four. No projectiles, just clubs. Obviously they believed they didn’t need guns to take down Sidonia Impyrean. Their mistake.

  “Help me!” cried Neveni.

  I tossed her aside and vaulted forward. The first one put out his arms as though to catch me. The condescending smile on his lips disappeared when my roundhouse connected with his face. He flew backward into the wall. The next one was in my grasp before he glimpsed me nearing him. I flung him across the room so hard he splintered a glass table. The other two came at me together. I ducked their reaching arms, then whipped about to seize them both by their tunics. I smashed their heads together.

  When I wheeled on Neveni, she staggered backward, wide-eyed and pale. She looked around at the carnage, her jaw slackening.

  “You . . . you’re not human.”

  “No,” I said. Here it was, then: the danger I’d rushed to protect Tyrus from last night had come today. “Where has Tyrus been taken?”

  She protested, of course. But our negotiation was short. I made it clear that if she tried to escape me, I’d snap her neck. Defeated, Neveni led me through the hallways, shooting me betrayed, tearful looks.

  “I don’t understand. What are you?”

  There was no point in lying. “I was Sidonia Impyrean’s Diabolic.”

  “A—a Diabolic? Like Enmity?” She goggled at me. “That’s impossible.”

  “Obviously it’s not. I deceived you.”

  “How can you be alive?”

  “Sidonia Impyrean saved me from the great purge. Then I came to the Chrysanthemum in her place.” My voice grew bitter. “To protect her.”

  “I don’t understand! Why are you helping Tyrus Domitrian? If what you say is true, you have more reason than anyone to want the Domitrians dead!”

  “I do. But not Tyrus.” For he was a friend too—a friend who relied on me. And I feared for his safety as I had never feared before. I could not have prevented Sidonia’s death. But Tyrus’s fate was in my hands now.

  We tore out onto the street outside the compound. “It’s too late,” Neveni panted. “They pronounced sentence here. They must have already taken him for execution.”

  “Where?”

  “The Annex of Central Square.”

  I raised my arm. “Where is that?”

  “You’d hit me again?”

  “If I must.”

  Neveni spat out blood. The last time I’d struck her, I’d only held back a little. “Sixty blocks that way.” She jerked her head down the street.

  “Blocks?” I repeated, trying to figure out what she meant.

  “Sections of sidewalk between cross streets. Sixty of them.”

  “If you’re lying—”

  “Why bother? You’ll never get there in time.”

  “Neveni.” I stared at her, thinking quickly. “I’ve valued your friendship too. I’m sorry.” Then I struck her so fast she had no chance to feel fear.

  I propped her unconscious body out of the street. I turned around and launched myself in the direction of the square, running as fast as I could, knowing it wasn’t fast enough—knowing that as soon as she regained consciousness, she’d send her people after me.

  I should have killed her. It would have been better to have killed her.

  Hovercars whipped past me. The third time I was nearly run over, an idea occurred to me. I climbed up the fireslide of a building, then launched myself at a car as it whizzed past, digging my fingers into the cracks of the frame as a great torrent of wind nearly ripped me off. Frantic eyes gawked at me from within. I reared my legs back and kicked as hard as I could. The first kick bounced off the glass. The second one cracked it. The third, and I scraped my way through shards of glass into the interior.

  The occupants yelped and scrambled away from me. I must have made a terrifying specter—spattered with blood, wearing a bedraggled nightgown.

  “Take me to Central Square,” I said. “Now.”

  Central Square was accessible only to pedestrians. A great crowd of patriotic Luminars had already amassed outside the Annex—a single, solitary tower of twisting palladium—for the excitement of seeing Tyrus Domitrian, Successor Primus of the arrogant Empire that presumed to rule them, robbed of his life. Vast screens loomed over the crowd, ready to broadcast the execution. The sheer numbers in the square staggered me—more people than I’d ever seen in one place.

  As soon as I’d observed how the controls of the hovercar worked, I took them over and directed the vehicle straight into that crowd, blaring the warning siren. People scrambled out of my way. I could not figure out how to stop the vehicle. On a deep breath, I directed it into the wall of the Annex, then braced myself.

  The vehicle slammed to a stop. Amid the tremendous crumpling of metal, I felt a cone of silken softness envelop me. I clawed my way free of the safety net, then kicked my way out through the window, crawling out like some grotesque newborn creature from its broken shell.

  The collision had done double duty: it had opened a gap into the building. I thrust myself through that gap, clawing into the tower where the elites of Lumina were gathered, prepared to see the execution firsthand on a stage at the other end of the room.

  The first guard noticed me. He shouted an alarm to the others, and the guards aimed their weapons. Bolts of energy flared toward me from all sides. I flipped back through the air, not dodging so much as shoving and leaping through the nearest spectators the way only a Diabolic could and hoping my unpredictable movements would save me.

  The scattering of elite Luminars shouted in fear, crashing into one another in their haste to escape my vicinity. I leaped onto a man’s shoulders, then used the height to propel myself onto the stage at the front of the room where Tyrus was being held. More guards stood posted here, aiming their weapons my way, but I ducked down and tackled the nearest, stripping away his weapon, which I then aimed at his colleagues. They fell in rapid succession.

  I rounded on the dignitarie
s surrounding Tyrus. They had him forced onto his knees, ready for his death.

  I would kill all of them or die myself.

  One shot to Neveni’s father—not a death shot for him, though, for she was my friend. But as for the others—

  “Wait!” called Tyrus. “Don’t kill them.”

  This was no time for mercy. I cast him an impatient look. “Why not?” In one quick move, I swiveled my weapon toward him and shot his handcuffs apart.

  Tyrus gave a startled jerk as his hands snapped free, and he clambered to his feet. I circled around behind the dignitaries so the guards below the stage couldn’t target me.

  “Best to kill them,” I said. “We’ll keep Neveni’s father alive as a hostage, to aid our escape—”

  “No.” Tyrus’s gaze roved over the officials. “In return for sparing your lives, will you hear me out one last time?”

  What was he doing? I looked at the remainder of the Luminar elites who hadn’t fled, to the guards steadily approaching from below the stage with their weapons raised high. What could Tyrus possibly say that he hadn’t said already? These people had proven treacherous, devious. They had sneaked in during the night to seize him for his death. They deserved no more chances.

  But Tyrus had already turned away from me, addressing the dignitaries who’d moments before encircled him, now standing with their hands raised, helpless. “One last appeal to your reason. I know you did not request my presence. I came uninvited, and if the Luminars wish to dispense justice upon my family through me after I speak once more, I will allow it. Willingly.”

  The dignitaries stirred. I grew aware of a few people trickling in through the gash I’d made in the wall. Neveni herself came scrambling inside, her own guards following. Clutching her head, she scanned the room. As our eyes met, I could see the betrayal and anger that contorted her face.

  Neveni’s father conferred with another man, then said, “Very well. We will hear one last appeal, on the condition that you submit yourself to any justice we mete out.”

  Tyrus nodded. “Then we’ll put our weapons down and discuss this.”

  Put our weapons down? I bit my cheek hard to contain my rage. He meant I’d put my weapon down, and I wasn’t about to do that. They’d been about to execute him moments ago. What was he doing? They were going to kill him!

  Tyrus looked at me in silent appeal, and there was an intensity to his eyes that pleaded with me to trust him. Trust his judgment. Could I trust him in this? Could I let this happen?

  My hands shook, but I forced myself to do it. I set my weapon down.

  Now we were both of us at the mercy of the Luminars.

  33

  I FOLLOWED as if in a daze as Tyrus and a handful of dignitaries retreated together into a more private room. I stood as close as I could to Tyrus, and others were careful to give me distance. There was blood on my tattered nightgown, and I knew I’d revealed before the elites of Lumina that I could not possibly be a real person.

  Tyrus faced imminent death, yet he calmly took a drink and settled himself before these Luminar dignitaries as though he commanded them—as though he’d called a sedate meeting, not a brief tribunal before his doom.

  “I have approached this incorrectly,” he told them. The faint golden light poured over his skin like honey, casting dark shadows into the swell of his muscular arms, over the calm dignity of his face. There was no trace of anxiety on his features, and young as he was, he looked an Imperial Emperor. It was a wonder anyone had believed he was mad. “I came here to give you reassurance that I’m nothing like my uncle, when you have no reason to trust me. You still have none.”

  Hearty agreement rang out about us, and I saw the flashing of hostile eyes.

  “I expected you to blindly accept my assurances that I would grant you independence. But why would I keep my word once I was Emperor? Once I was secure? So let me make my case.”

  He reached a hand under his tunic and pulled out a thin metal phial. Then he placed it calmly on the table before him.

  “You ask me how I differ from my uncle. This is my uncle’s way. The Domitrian way. I’ve had this on me all along, even as your people seized me, even at the trial this morning where I was not even allowed to speak, to make my own case. Do you know what this is?”

  Dead silence hung over the room. I could tell from the looks on the faces around me that nobody else knew either.

  “Surely some of you know imperial history. My uncle certainly does, and he hoped to repeat it. My great-grandmother once used a bioweapon just like this to handle a rebellion on Fortican.”

  A stirring rippled over the room, and several Luminars jerked to their feet as though prepared to spring from the room. A phrase sounded from many lips: “Resolvent Mist! Resolvent!”

  “Yes, it is Resolvent Mist. And if I wished to deploy it,” Tyrus said, raising his voice but not shouting, “wouldn’t I have done it already? I faced death at your hands and yet I was not going to use this and risk murdering thousands of innocent people. That is my uncle’s way. And yes, that is the Domitrian imperial way, but it is not my way!”

  Silence fell over the room. I drew closer to the phial and examined it without touching it. I recalled suddenly the sly look on the Emperor’s face when he agreed to let Tyrus speak to the Luminars, when he said he’d tell him exactly what he should say to them.

  “The Emperor sent you here to deploy this . . . this bioweapon, didn’t he?” I murmured. “He didn’t want you to negotiate.”

  Tyrus gave a thin, bitter smile and plucked it up in his hands, his pale eyes tracing the smooth metal contours of the phial. “No, he had no desire to resolve this peacefully. He wanted an example made of the Luminars. He specifically asked me to gain entry to this planet, and then, upon landing, to unleash this Mist just as my great-grandmother once did to her opponents. There are enough spores in this phial to wipe out this entire province. You and I would have been safe. We received immunity against it along with our standard planetary inoculations before leaving the Chrysanthemum. The Luminars, though, would have faced a most terrible fate.”

  “Are you threatening us?” Neveni’s father spoke, his voice wavering.

  Tyrus fixed him with a steady gaze. “Isn’t it clear to you yet that I am not? I was sent here to use this, but I would never use it. Not even at the cost of my own life. I have already shown you this. You meant to kill me, and I waited to die, but I still did not use this. I’ve no intention of continuing the old ways! I came here to resolve this conflict with words to spare this planet from the plans my uncle has for it. Whether you kill me today, or whether I walk out a free man, this phial will remain unopened, unused.” He leaned forward. “But if you do agree to let me live, I can promise you one thing: you will never face a threat of this nature again. I intend to return to the Chrysanthemum and seize power from my uncle. Then I am going to dismantle the Grandiloquy’s grip over this Empire and free you from their influence forever.”

  I caught my breath, hearing Tyrus so openly speak treason. The Luminars murmured, stunned by the words, but let him speak.

  “I saw your malignant space. I know well the threat you face at some point in the near future,” Tyrus said. “I know why you wish to secede. The Empire has been suppressing the technology, the knowledge you need to preserve yourselves, and this suppression has been done solely to preserve the power of the Grandiloquy. Those who question this repression are labeled blasphemers, heretics, because that is the Helionic faith of the nobility—a religion wielded as a cudgel by small, petty men with no true belief of their own. And yes, I can say this with certainty. I was born of these people, raised among them. Their religion is their tool and nothing more.”

  Neveni burst forward out of the gathered group of elites, her eyes shining with distrust. “And why would you be any different? If you do as you claim you will, you’ll just damage your own power.”

>   “What’s the alternative?” Tyrus said. “Wait until malignant space is everywhere? Wait until we cannot turn in any direction without encountering our own oblivion? Stagnation is death, Mistress Sagnau. Rather than let myself go down in history as just another coward, burying himself in pleasure with his hands over his eyes, hiding from the realities before me, I want to be the one who takes the first step to change it.”

  “And how would you make that happen?” jeered a voice.

  “My uncle has already given me the means of undermining the Grandiloquy. He’s stripped many of the great imperial families of their influence and taken it for himself. He can now move arbitrarily in the Senate without anyone to check his power. I can use the power he’s seized—the mandate he’s forged for himself—and take actions over the objections of the Grandiloquy. And I swear to you, I’ll do so.”

  “How do we know you speak in good faith?” said Neveni’s father. “You could ascend to power and change your mind.”

  “Very simple,” Tyrus said. “You have here words of high treason I’ve spoken to you. I admit to you that I do plot my uncle the Emperor’s death. In fact, I even admit to you that I am helping a Diabolic pose as Senator von Impyrean and concealing her in the Grandiloquy, though it is high treason to even possess a Diabolic.” He gestured to me.

  I received several startled glances. Neveni swallowed hard but didn’t look my way.

  “I have given you all,” Tyrus said, “each one of you, nearly a dozen witnesses, the ammunition to readily destroy me whether before or after I am Emperor, because who among the Grandiloquy will tolerate my authority over them once they see what I intend for them?”

  Murmuring spread through the crowd.

  “I am choosing to trust you with my most dangerous secrets,” Tyrus said, his face glowing with conviction, “because we do share a cause. We are united in this. We want the same thing. Now, will you allow me to walk out of here and follow through on my plans, or will you strike me down here? I am at your mercy.”