In Her Shadow(39)

"Son–"

"Will you release her to my custody for interrogation, or will I have to declare a state of emergency and put this city under military dictatorship until the Emperor can send someone to sort the whole mess out?"

The Governor visibly swallowed. A visit from the Emperor's own magistrate under such circumstances would ruin his career. Even if he were found innocent of any wrong doing, the mere implication would destroy his reputation; especially if it were his own son who called the magistrate. "Captain Marcus," he said, his voice wobbly and weak. "I deputize you Dux of the Anksharan Imperial Garrison and demand you arrest my son."

Captain Marcus squawked more than laughed – a high-throated belch. "Me? Arrest him? When our troops were down on those docks last night fighting for our lives, where was your household guard? No, sir. I think I'll just keep my rank until my commanding officer, Dux Lucius, sees fit to promote me."

The Governor turned pale. There was a tremor to him that Lucius thought was anger until he realized it was fear. Was it fear of being called out? Fear of discovery? Guilt? When he was alone with Weboshi, Lucius intended to find out.

The Governor waved a trembling hand. "Fine," he said, "take her. But these Anksharans are tricky. She'll lie to your face, and then lie some more. You'll never get to the bottom of what happened." Who was the Governor trying to convince, Lucius thought, Lucius or himself? The Governor's household guard released Weboshi and the soldiers took her by the arms and led her away from the manse to the garrison.

***

Alone in the dark, Britta brooded. She'd hoped that, with the right amount of prayer, she might commune with the Goddess. Her reward for her effort was a flood of her own, angry thoughts. She'd made a terrible mistake thinking there might be hope for Weboshi, for her city, and for herself. That's not how the real world worked. She'd always suspected it on some level intellectually; now she knew it in her heart.

Dux Lucius's betrayal helped hammer the lesson home. Britta had thought there was something special growing between them, something more than a political arrangement. She'd felt it when they kissed, and she'd felt it on the docks. She'd thought maybe – just maybe – they could be something more than two leaders married out of necessity. She'd thought they'd be husband and wife in the truest sense. She loved him, but Lucius's inability to stand up to his father was another in a string of betrayals by those closest to her. It tore at her. All the hope, all the expectation, all the heart-twittering giddiness of new love, stolen. That's what Regnals do, she thought: take what was most precious and dear.

Soon they'd take this abbey, and crush what remained of Ankshara's uniqueness. They'd make the city one more bland imperial outpost, exactly like all the others. They wouldn't just drain Ankshara's blood, they'd drain its spirit. And there was nothing she could do. Nothing.

Britta slumped in her chair and stared into the darkness expecting to see. . . She didn't know. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do," she whispered.

"Excuse me?"

Britta sat up in her chair and glanced over her shoulder at the girl who'd entered. The orphan who'd helped her through the city. She carried a tray of food in her hand.

"Nothing," said Britta, doing her best to muster a reassuring smile as the girl sat the tray down on a table in the center of the room. "Thank you. You brought this to me?"

"I made it. The other sisters – well. . ."

Britta sighed. "They've already lost all faith in me. Barely had the job a day and I've already–"

The girl's eyes went wide. "Oh no! No ma'am! Not at all! The abbey runs itself, they told me. The night to night stuff at least. They said there was no stewardess though, no handmaid to the Twin Moons. So they put me to work."

"Awfully presumptuous of them. Kind, but presumptuous." A cold, hollow laugh erupted from her. It stung. "There are no 'Twin Moons' anyway. Only me, the last Abbess of Night it would seem."

The girl's gaze fell to ground, and her cheeks broke out in hot blush.

"What girl? Out with it."

"They elected me New Moon."

Britta sat up in her chair. "What?"

"They uh – well, a lot of them remember your election. They thought, I mean with my parents–"

"They thought it was a sign."

"Yes, ma'am."

Britta relaxed in her chair again. "Presumptuous," she said under her breath.

The girl – what was her name? – pulled the lid off the tray, revealing a steaming pile of seafood beneath. "I don't know what you like," she said. "I'm afraid I'm not a very good cook. My mother tried to teach me but. . ."

The girl's voice trailed off and her eyes unfocused. Britta grabbed the girl's wrist and pulled her close, until the child, too big really, was in her lap. The girl sobbed quietly, jerking a little with each hiccuped tear.

"I want to tell you it's going to be okay," said Britta. "I want to tell you it will all work out in the end, that your heart will mend. I can't, New Moon. I can't promise to give you back the life – the people – you've lost. All I can do is offer you comfort in the arms of a new family. It won't be the same. You'll always miss your parents, your brothers and sisters. But when you're lost and hurting, know you'll always have us."