Blood of a Thousand Stars (Empress of a Thousand Skies #2)(17)

It was a conversation they’d danced around before. Tai Reyanna hadn’t approved of Rhee reaching out to Julian in the first place. She hadn’t said why, and she didn’t have to. Rhee had considered and refused the possibility that Julian had been working with his father all along, that he might have been a traitor too.

Heat flushed through Rhee; she shook her head. “It’s not just about him. The Nau Frumans need to know that I’m going to protect them.”

On the holos, another explosion shook Nau Fruma, and the tiny sliver of calm she’d found slipped away. There on the projected image was the violence Nero’s hand had reaped. Did he enjoy his cruelty? Did he take pleasure in treating lives as if they were expendable?

Rhee slipped her hands out of her Tai’s, trying to silence the panic that was making her ears burn and her head spin. “Does Dahlen know?”

She’d have to find him in this enormous palace. He’d gone off with the Fisherman to scout the property and discuss security detail, his favorite subject as of late. It had been a shock to find that all the servants who’d worked for her family and stayed through Regent Seotra’s reign had abandoned the palace. Either they’d been scared off or paid, maybe lured by Nero’s promises—but it was a slap in the face, and a further reminder that the Rose of the Galaxy wasn’t as precious as she’d once been.

Rhee hastily shoved one foot in her boot and then the other. “I’m going to find Dahlen.” They’d need a plan. She wouldn’t sit here moping, feeling sorry for herself.

Rhee raced through the palace as Tai Reyanna called after her. The familiar twists and turns, the feel of the elaborate woven rug underneath her, even the smell reminded her of her childhood. But instead of the bustling energy, the warmth, the interplanetary dignitaries that had filled it with music and company, there was only an eerie silence throughout the halls. In it, an organic memory rose up, and Rhee heard Joss’s voice taunting her with its echo.

Come and find me, Joss had called once when Rhee went to chase her. So many years she’d spent chasing the sister who wanted nothing to do with her. Who called her a baby, taunted her. Even now her sister’s voice flooded Rhee from every direction, driving her mad. She was inept; she’d never be enough; she’d never find her. She couldn’t keep up with Joss then, and she couldn’t keep up with Nero now.

She hadn’t been raised to rule. She wasn’t meant for it. That was Josselyn’s role. But the very person Rhee needed most in the world, the one she’d publicly begged to come home, hadn’t appeared. Was she lost or in danger? Or was it the case that Joss didn’t want to come forward? Maybe she was smart enough to know what Rhee was only now just learning: Being empress was thankless, hopeless, and it was best to quit before you even started.

It was such a cowardly thing to think—of her sister, and of her role as empress. She dishonored her father’s legacy, and Rhee felt the shame burn its way through the surface of her skin, mar her face, her features, so that she would wear it for everyone to see. Maybe everyone saw it already.

When the hallway forked, she made a right, prompting a voice behind her to tsk. It was close. Too close. Rhee spun around startled, kicking the arc of a roundhouse—but a Fontisian girl slipped backward, just out of Rhee’s reach. Rhee recognized her at once: She had been standing on the steps when Rhee arrived—the one with the yellow-and-orange eyes.

Now, she was wearing a dark tunic that squared at her shoulders, like many others of the Fontisian order did. Her blonde braid was now coiled in a bun.

“Who are you? Why are you following me?” Rhee fired out questions quickly, to conceal her embarrassment: The girl was part of the guard that Dahlen oversaw.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” She wore her bow and arrow strapped to her back. Her ears were slightly pointed, like Dahlen’s. “I’m Lahna.”

Rhee straightened up, smoothing her dress, trying to preserve some semblance of dignity. “You’re one of the archers?”

The girl raised her eyebrows, so light they were nearly white. She gestured to the bow behind her. “Does it not appear so?”

The gesture felt familiar. Then Rhee remembered she had seen Lahna on Erawae too: She had been sparring in the courtyard when Rhee had met with the Fontisian Elder, Escov. He’d revealed that Josselyn was still alive. That the order had helped hide her—so thoroughly that even they didn’t know where Joss had gone.

“Where’s Dahlen? We’ll have to arrange for aid to Nau Fruma. There’s been—”

“A bombing. I know.” The girl pivoted on her heel and began to walk away. “I’m not to delay.” If it was an invitation, it was hardly a compelling one. Still, Rhee followed.

“Where are we going?” she asked, quickly falling into step with the girl. Of course Dahlen already knew. He always knew. There are things he knows, and things he doesn’t know he knows. It’s what Elder Escov had told Rhee on Erawae—that Dahlen had some critical piece of information and kept it hidden deep within, even from himself.

“The north wing study, which Dahlen has turned into a strategy room. He’s arranging for aid to the moon. He set up a briefing as soon as we heard of the bombings,” she said, her eyes panning left and right as they walked briskly down the hall.

“Good,” Rhee said. Dahlen understood her. Movement, action, strategy. But something irked her, tugged at the edge of her nerves. “And how long ago did the situation room and Dahlen’s strategy come together?”