Empress of a Thousand Skies(52)

Rhee was surprised to hear murmurs of agreement. “Dusties,” someone next to her muttered, and she felt a sharp twisting in her stomach. Was there really so much hatred in the universe, so much prejudice, even among people who claimed to be unbiased? Had this always been true? Or had something changed in the week since she was supposedly killed?

Where are they going? Rhee remembered asking as a kid when she’d seen footage of the Wraetan refugees traveling on the holos. It seemed like they’d walked forever, across an entire season when the flowers bloomed and died again. Yet another organic memory she had to shake away.

“They’re looking for a new home,” Joss had told her. Rhee picked up a stylus and began to draw all the houses they’d build for them on Kalu. At first, Joss’s pout got a little bigger—like it did when she got sad and might cry—but then she’d just said: “Grow up.”

The Kalusian woman who’d caused the outburst earlier let out a cry, and even though several people looked in her direction, the cameras didn’t. She was being dragged out by two Tasinn, thrashing and kicking, and no one moved to help her. Not even Rhee. She stood perfectly still, shame burning her face, as the woman was taken.

“The Rose of the Galaxy is gone,” Nero said once the woman had exited and he had everyone’s focus once more. His face looked like it was carved from marble by a master sculptor. He’d never looked more handsome, or more ruthless. “As a planet, we should rally together and vow, once and for all: Wraeta, and any planet foolish enough to back them, will pay.”

The energy in the car frightened her: It wasn’t curious. It was charged, electric, angry.

“What’s the status of the investigation of Alyosha Myraz?” a reporter now called out. “Was he receiving directions?”

“We think it is likely he was reporting to a larger terrorist organization, yes,” Nero said, nodding his head.

“And his hostage? Vincent, from The Revolutionary Boys?”

“No word yet. We’ve been in touch with his family . . .”

“Any idea where the fugitive has gone?” someone interrupted.

“We’ve got every UniForce cruiser from here to the Outer Belt looking for him, and a bounty on his head that will make his captor rich for life. We’re confident we’ll find him.”

A Toncdel whose camera was built right into the hardware of his exoskeleton spoke up next. “Have you determined how he fled the scene? I have an anonymous source that says a royal escape pod is unaccounted for.”

She straightened up. She’d assumed that the royal escape pod had been lost to the dark folds of the universe. Otherwise, someone would have found Veyron’s body, and her braid. Someone would know she’d made it out alive. And the question had in fact caused a stir: Everyone was whispering, muttering, straining to catch a glimpse of the reporter.

“I’m afraid that’s untrue,” Nero said, and Rhee felt all the air go out of her chest. “All the pods were accounted for. The pods were used to ferry off the only survivors, an evacuation effort I and Regent Seotra were involved in.”

Nero was lying. Not all the pods were accounted for . . .

The icy feeling spread to her head and built pressure behind her eyes. Tai Reyanna had said that Veyron must have planted an explosive device in case his attempt on Rhee’s life failed. But how had they known to evacuate even before the initial blast?

Dahlen’s ring burned a hole in her pocket; it gave her an uneasy feeling, as if its ability to capture energy meant it would capture the attention of others too. The world went mute as she looked around the room, really looked, for the first time. The press conference claimed itself haphazard and slapdash, but it had obviously been set up well in advance. Nero had never intended to sway the Kalusian allies. He’d shown up in a military-looking uniform, with every intention to position himself as a leader. One who could rule an entire planet.

The kindness he’d shown, the rousing speeches he’d given . . . it was all an act, made more convincing by his good looks and those intense blue eyes she’d once thought of as soulful. Suddenly Rhee understood. It had been all for the cameras. Truly, it was Nero all along, not Seotra, who’d arranged to have her family killed—who’d tried to kill her. He’d plotted in the shadows and pressed for her early coronation so he could have her assassinated.

Rhee remembered what Nero had said after her family died, his words of consolation that had stayed with her for so many years.

The ancestors saw it was an honorable death, and through them we ensure a new, worthy leader will rise. He’d been speaking of himself.

It was Nero: the man who stood at the podium not ten feet away, the most powerful man in Kalu, who wanted to take their planet to war, who wanted her dead.

As if the realization were a literal bolt of lightning that struck at Rhee’s feet, Nero turned and looked directly at her.





SIXTEEN


    ALYOSHA



THE name of the game was to not get caught. Aly’s only plan was to lie low, be inconspicuous, and maybe get to Rhesto in one piece. Kara—that was the girl’s name—had moved them through four cars with a security badge she’d swiped from who knows where. She acted like she’d grown up on a zeppelin, which, she told him after yanking him into a bathroom to avoid a patrolling Tasinn, she basically had.