The Empress

  Tyrus took a reflexive step back from the imaging ring as those people in the square began to boil about with panic. They scrambled to escape the very air, piling atop one another in their desperation, clawing at the ground, at one another, at themselves. . . .

  So this was their covenant. This was the bond too powerful to be broken: they’d committed an act of mass murder together. As I stared at the image of Lumina, where dying Luminars glowed at me, a deep certainty welled in my heart: Tyrus and I were doomed. The Luminars had been his most stalwart allies, and Pasus had done this to them. They were ordinary people and he had done this. How cruelly and cleverly he’d struck this blow, and implicated every last one of the power players in the Empire in his scheme to ensure they would never betray him for Tyrus.

  Because Tyrus could not let this stand.

  Tyrus would avenge this, if he had the power. They all shared this guilt. They all merited punishment.

  No decree from the Interdict, no appeal to reason, no clever maneuvering could overcome this.

  A buzzing sound filled my ears as I watched the victims on Lumina expelling the blood they were hemorrhaging inside by coughing, vomiting, then collapsing. . . . And so swiftly it struck, and so swiftly it receded. In less than a minute, all had gone still.

  I stared at the feed in the presence chamber—where Tyrus was transfixed by unvarnished horror at the sight before him. Tyrus spoke, his voice strangled: “That wasn’t real. Surely that . . . You didn’t . . . That didn’t happen.” But he cast a look about, waiting for someone to reveal the jest, and he paled as no one confirmed that his fears were empty.

  In Tyrus’s shock, Pasus asserted mastery. He strode up right behind Tyrus and clapped his hands on his shoulders. He drew him back toward him in an overly familiar manner that reeked of disrespect.

  “What you saw is what happened,” he said quietly, speaking right near Tyrus’s ear. “It was a dreadful and doleful event, and it was done because of you.”

  Tyrus couldn’t seem to muster a word. All that careful self-control, all that self-discipline was extinguished by shock, and had I been in there . . . I could have offered nothing. Now I just stared in mute bewilderment, for none of it felt quite real.

  “I have assumed the regency in your absence with a very heavy heart, Tyrus, fearing you would never return . . . Preparing in case you did. Concealing my hand, even cloaking all news of Lumina from the rest of the galaxy under the guise of protecting those precarious independence negotiations . . .”

  The words seemed to snap Tyrus out of some paralysis. He ripped forward out of Pasus’s grasp. “How many?” he demanded.

  When no answer came, he whipped around, staring with a ghastly look on his face at those Grandiloquy all about him. “HOW MANY? Someone must know. How many people did you murder on that planet? How far did that weapon spread?”

  When there was still no answer, he raised his hands, clutching at his hair, the frozen reflection of the holograph casting a sickly light on his face. “There are billions on Lumina. Someone tell me. How many died?”

  Pasus finally answered.

  “All of them.”

  All of them.

  All. The words resounded through my head.

  The world swayed. I had to get into the next chamber. I had to get there now. But the magnetized clamp trapping me against the wall wouldn’t give, however I pulled on it. With a roar of frustration, I pulled with both hands, then even pushed with my neck. . . . That wasn’t a good idea.

  I gasped for breath, as trapped as before.

  Voices floated from the feed of the presence chamber. . . .

  “Your Supremacy surely sees now the position you are in. I will list our terms for you.” There was no answer for a beat, and Pasus took that as a reason to go on: “We require an Emperor. That much was clear before you disappeared for a long interval. In fact, we do want to see you wielding the scepter once more, but only—”

  “Are you mad?” Tyrus rasped.

  I angled myself to the side so it wasn’t my esophagus pressing against the clamp. I bent my legs so I could push with all four limbs, and . . . and the slightest give! It pulled away, but then fastened back against the wall.

  I was on the right track. I just needed to recover my breath—and then use all the force I could muster.

  “Are you utterly mad?” roared Tyrus again, and I twisted about to see him encircled by them in the presence chamber. “What . . . what kind of . . . What . . .” He stumbled over his words as though he could find none for this. . . . And then he howled at them: “How can you see that and live with yourselves? How can any of you? You have terms? TERMS? You honestly believe I will turn away from genocide?”

  He surged toward Pasus but bodies blocked his way, and Tyrus seemed afire with fury, madness.

  “You think I will consent to be your puppet, and rule as you say, as you wish, when you have murdered all those people? I would sooner fall into a black hole! The lot of you deserve to burn for this!”

  With a gritting of teeth, I threw myself back and yelled out as this time, the magnet was driven from the wall, and with a twist of my body, it whipped away from my neck and reconnected to the wall with a clang.

  I collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, bathed in sweat. I surged to my feet, and how heavy, how wrong my legs felt even now with the neural suppressor humming in the air, but I shoved my way through the door as Pasus purred, “You seem to think we are asking you to behave as we wish. You’re mistaken.”

  Bodies blocked my way. I raged at the strength I’d lost, for normally I could fling them aside like so many puppets, or hurl myself onto their shoulders.

  “We anticipated your resistance, Your Supremacy,” said Pasus. “And that’s why I had the foresight to spare your abomination. She will even be permitted to sit at your side as Empress, provided you cooperate.”

  My steps paused, for that was why I was alive. He meant to use me against Tyrus.

  “I don’t believe you,” Tyrus said scornfully. “You will kill her one way or another. I won’t even give you that chance.”

  Through the gap in the bodies, I saw him pull something from his sleeve—an energy weapon. Shouts and cries sounded about me, and Pasus’s servants and lackeys formed a human shield before him. Behind the shelter of their bodies, he called to Tyrus, “What does Your Supremacy think you will gain?” There was amusement—damn him—in his voice as he spoke. “You cannot hope to kill all of us with that!”

  Tyrus took one deliberate step back after another. “You’re right.” His voice was quiet, resolved. “I only get one shot. Best make it count.”

  Then Tyrus angled his weapon toward that thin sheen of diamond protecting the chamber from the unforgiving void beyond.

  So he could blow out the window. And vent every last person in this chamber to space.

  24

  THERE WAS only one person in this room I cared about, and he was closest to the window. The words ripped out of me:

  “Tyrus, NO!”

  And the sound of my voice made his eyes widen with a fresh terror, and he roared, “Get out of here!” at me, but I shook my head frantically. . . . Then arms seized me from behind, and with my strength dampened, I couldn’t break the hold. Pasus saw me, waved the man holding me forward, then clasped my arm and yanked me toward Tyrus.

  “Vent the room and she dies too,” Pasus said, breathless. His fingers dug in so hard, my skin throbbed.

  And I didn’t fight him now, because I wanted him to succeed. I wanted Tyrus talked down, and Tyrus had an indecisive moment to just look at us like he was strangling on thin air. . . . Then bodies bowled him over, piled on top of him, shouting, “Disarm him!”

  “Get the Emperor!”

  “Keep him down!”

  At my side, Pasus’s harsh whisper. “Well done.”

  Our eyes met like bared blades. If I’d been able to rip him to shreds with just a glare, he would be in slices. Then he hauled me forward with him, shouting at
Tyrus’s captors not to suffocate him, to stand him up.

  And then Tyrus was trapped, two arms around each of his, by men straining to contain him, others grappling his legs, and a hand at my back shoved me forward hard enough to unbalance me. I didn’t care that Pasus meant me to do this, that he was sending me over for this. I just blasted forward and hurtled into Tyrus, throwing my arms about him. He must’ve been released, because he clasped me fiercely in return.

  “You’re all right,” he said, his voice choked.

  “Stay alive, Tyrus. Don’t do that again. Don’t.”

  And I was only dimly aware of those who’d tackled him being waved away, of Pasus circling us at a careful distance, his sharp eyes taking in our embrace. I knew we were displaying our hideous weakness for each other before hostile eyes, that it was unavoidable, but Tyrus’s heart beat against mine, and his ragged breathing fluttered my hair, and we would get out of this somehow, I knew we would.

  Then the chamber was mostly empty, and Pasus was sitting languidly on a windowsill, Tyrus’s energy weapon held casually over his lap, and I pressed my lips to Tyrus’s ear and whispered that entreaty, “Stay alive. Just stay alive.”

  Tyrus’s eyes sought mine, and for the first time I saw raw terror there, unconcealed by so many years of training, for what was there to do against an enemy who could murder billions of people?

  “Shall we talk now?”

  Pasus’s voice floated over to us, and Tyrus and I held eyes a last moment. Then his face became a granite mask, and my heart turned to cold black stone. And then we shifted our focus to Pasus.

  Pasus’s lips twisted. “After losing my Elantra,” he said, “I could think only of avenging her. But for you, Tyrus, I will put that aside.”

  “To keep your leverage against me,” Tyrus said, clutching me closer. “Do not pretend this is generosity.”

  “Well. You and I would be corpses floating outside that window if not for your love of her, so yes, there is no generosity. Her preservation is clearly a necessity.” Pasus’s eyes glittered. “And what a tragedy it would have been, had you fired on that window. I don’t speak of losing my life, or those of all the personages in this chamber. . . . But losing the last Domitrian. There is no returning from that.”

  Tyrus stared at him incredulously. “You have your boot on my throat, Senator. Don’t feign reverence now.”

  “I am pretending nothing,” Pasus said. “I knew Randevald as a youth. Always, I thought—this man is no more remarkable than I am. And then I saw him claim his scepter and awaken the Chrysanthemum. That boot is there by necessity, not choice. All I’ve ever wished is to join with your family! To unite my bloodline with the greatness of the Domitrians. . . . You are as close as we mere humans will ever be to the deities of old. I planned for you to wed my daughter.” With a chill glance toward me, “And we know why that did not happen. Then I sought to wed your cousin, but she perished. Again, we know why.”

  “We do,” I snapped. “Because you tried to murder him.”

  “I am your greatest advocate,” Pasus insisted. “Some believed we should lobotomize you on your return, and reign through you that way. . . . But the idea was distasteful to me. Your cousin lacked her wits and I saw firsthand how difficult she was to manage. So now we are left with option three, and I think all of us will find this one acceptable.” Pasus reached into his pocket and withdrew a jeweled case. “Give me a reason to trust you.”

  A vein in Tyrus’s temple flickered. I took the box from Pasus, popped it open. A phial rested inside. It was merely a narcotic. Tyrus spared it a contemptuous look. “What is it?”

  “It’s how we will establish our trust. This is a drug by the name of Venalox,” Pasus said. “You’ll take it.”

  “Venalox?” said Tyrus. “I’ve never even heard of it.”

  “Nor had I, until recently. You yourself are the reason I found its chemical configuration. I searched for obscure substances, hoping for something that would preserve your cousin’s life. Then—I saw this. It is ideal for us. I tested it on the Excess to ensure it was safe. I am going to provide it every day.”

  “Why? What does it do?”

  “It fosters a powerful addiction that confounds med-bot detox subroutines,” Pasus said. “This is how we will operate: I will give you this substance, and you will take it. Because you’ll need it, and only I will have it, and in this way, my life will be protected from you, and we will be assured allies.”

  “If you wanted trust, if you sought an ally,” Tyrus said, “you could simply have approached me in good faith in the first place.”

  “No. That was never possible. I couldn’t have trusted any mere assurances of yours,” Pasus responded. “You see, I earnestly believed you, Tyrus. I believed you were mad along with all the others. You were so very convincing, and now, this is the price for it—because I am not even sure who you truly are. There is only one way I can feel certain of you, and it’s if we establish that certainty on my terms. With the Venalox. Now, in injected form, it hits quite hard. Rather like a sedative that leaves one awake enough to follow basic suggestions. But I’d only have it injected for the first stretch, just to be entirely certain it’s in your system. Then we’ll transition.”

  “To what?” Tyrus ground out.

  “An inhalable powder. You’ll be able to administer it to yourself—after I provide it, naturally.”

  “You think I will agree to be an addict,” said Tyrus.

  “Your Supremacy, addiction devastates those who lose their health, their status, their finances. All three of those will be in my control. You will be entirely safe, and you will have your chosen Empress. This is not an offer you can refuse. Make your decision.”

  “Give him time to think,” I cut in. “Can he not have a minute of thought?”

  “There is nothing for him to think about,” Pasus said, his eyes narrowing. “He is not in a position to refuse me. But as a courtesy, I will give you both an interlude to reassure each other. I must oversee the docking of the Colossus. . . . I couldn’t leave it in the inner ring until you had returned.”

  Of course he’d kept it obscured among the mass of distant ships. Senator von Pasus’s vessel in the dead center of the Chrysanthemum would have told us with a glance that he was here. Tyrus closed his eyes until he was gone.

  Then his gaze snapped back open, and there wasn’t a trace of defeat in the pale blue depths. He snatched the phial from its box and shook his head, determination crackling on his face. “He will make this easy.”

  “Easy?”

  “In the past I always had to contrive some weakness to put my enemies at ease, and selling that weakness was every bit so difficult as taking advantage of the moment they underestimated me. . . . But he’s created the perfect situation for me.”

  “You have a plan.”

  He nodded. His hand cupped the back of my neck to draw me forward as though for a kiss, but really so he could whisper as softly as possible, “He’s already laid it out for us. He means to turn me into a dependent addict. I will play along with it. I will give him an addict. This will lull him and then we strike back.”

  Misgivings churned within me. I had never been intoxicated, but I had seen Tyrus’s mind at work. It was the most powerful weapon in his arsenal and there was no knowing what this Venalox might do to it. “No. Tyrus, no. Let’s find the nearest ship and hijack it. I don’t have my strength, but we’ll have surprise on our side. We can return to the Interdict.”

  He let out a breath. “We’d have to get there and back within this same gravital window, Nemesis, or else we are truly undone. You saw the schedule. The next one lasts three years. We can’t lose three more years. This keeps us in the center of things. We can’t risk it.”

  “But . . .” I pulled back, searching his face. “You’ve never used this . . . this Venalox. What if you can’t master it?”

  “I will.” Tyrus stroked his thumb over the back of my neck in circles. “This is just a chemical like any
other. Mithridatism. Remember?”

  Mithridatism. His practice of exposing himself to small doses of substances to master them.

  “Mind over matter. The very worst-case scenario is, I truly do get addicted—in which case it will be a matter of willpower, and I have plenty. I will endure the pains of breaking free.” He drew me into a kiss, and then spoke against my ear, “Whatever I do and whatever you see, don’t be worried. Trust me.”

  I would trust him. I had to trust him.

  “Once he closes his eyes,” Tyrus whispered, “I promise you, we will destroy him for this.”

  25

  WITH THE Colossus docked, Senator von Pasus strolled back into the presence chamber, looking between us expectantly. Tyrus now had uncertainty and anxiety on his face; he’d plastered on the expression as soon as we knew Pasus was in the room.

  “You win,” Tyrus said. “All right? I’ll—I’ll take the Venalox. As long as Nemesis is safe, I’ll do it.”

  “How wonderful,” Pasus said. He stepped over to Tyrus and clasped his shoulders. “This is the beginning of a new era for us all. It’s not my victory. A day will come when you see it’s our victory.”

  Then, releasing him, he retreated.

  “One last small request,” Pasus said. “I am still grieving my daughter. I would like to see as little of your intended as possible. Nemesis dan . . . Nemesis Impyrean, you are never to step foot on the Colossus without my explicit invitation.”

  Bewildered, I assured him, “I have no desire to see your ship.”

  Pasus smiled. “How pleased I am to find you both so reasonable.”

  “Do we begin this now?” Tyrus said, lifting the phial.

  “Yes, that would be most excellent. Six milliliters, directly to the bloodstream.” He waved over a med bot, and Tyrus let the machine take the phial with its metal claw and liquefy its contents with a flash of light.

  Tyrus met my eyes with steely determination. Trust me, he mouthed out of sight of Pasus.