Blood of a Thousand Stars (Empress of a Thousand Skies #2)(22)
Rhiannon stared at her suspiciously. “Then why are you smiling?” she asked. Lahna’s features had the delicacy of a porcelain doll, so at odds with what Rhee had seen earlier—the intensity, and her skill with the blade.
Lahna shrugged, and tossed her braid behind her as she took her short strides. “Because I want to see how we get out alive.”
Rhee pressed her lips together, hoping her silence would end the whole conversation. Maybe Dahlen was right. Maybe it was insane to accept the invitation to meet with the man who’d killed Rhee’s family, the one who’d turned her faithful trainer against her and had tried to have her killed—but she needed a cease-fire. She needed him to pull the UniForce out of Nau Fruma and agree not to invade any neutral territories in the future.
She stuck her hand in her pocket and sought out the familiar weight of the coin, turning it over and over again in her fingers, running her thumb along the groove that ran down its center. It may have been a mere souvenir, but Rhee saw it as so much more—a testament to her father’s diplomacy and his ability to bring territories together.
Dahlen had assured her that aid had arrived on Nau Fruma; Frontline Physicians had cycled out new medics and took the injured away to safer locations nearby. She still didn’t know Julian’s status, whether he’d survived, where he was if he had. Tai Reyanna had tried reaching out, to no avail, which meant that his cube was off. And he hated turning his cube off.
This was the know-it-all who had to look up every fact and figure, whose own cube sometimes couldn’t keep up with his curiosity—dozens of queries running at once, always something to see and learn. If his cube was off, was he okay?
“Rhiannon,” Dahlen said just as they arrived at the base of the west tower. “Unless your sole purpose is to kill him immediately, I can’t imagine what you expect to gain.”
The double doors of the elevator were closed, and the chrome reflected their image. It occurred to Rhee how strange a trio they made. And how the one boy she trusted with her life still stood by her side, would follow her up a tower to face the man who’d nearly ruined them.
Once again, she thought of how Nero had forced Dahlen to turn on his cube and thus break his vow to the order. Something in him had changed, and she imagined his heart like a river stone—water seeping into its cracks, freezing with the change of season, fracturing it from the inside out. Nero had done this. And Rhee had to undo it.
The double doors slid open, and three daisies fluttered out to meet them. Dahlen swatted at the DroneVision cameras and kept his head down while Lahna bared her teeth, which made the daisies skitter backward.
The ride was quiet, tense. The elevator was made of glass, and they could see the intricate machinery that pulled them up the seventy flights. Enormous gears. Ropes and pulleys. A delicate machine; a thousand different ways it could break. What she’d meant to tell Dahlen was that she was scared, and needed him—to trust her, to follow her, precisely because what they were doing was so outlandish. He was her anchor, keeping her from losing herself in the undertow of Nero’s deceptions.
But now, as two daisies hovered above them, Dahlen wouldn’t meet her eye. Lahna seemed oblivious; she leaned forward with her forehead pressed against the glass as the city fell below them. They were rocketed upward. Rhee felt her stomach lurch. She took a deep breath in, trying to compose herself—to prepare herself to meet Nero face-to-face once more.
When they arrived on the seventieth floor, the door slid open into a modern room. Expansive wooden floors bathed in light, with shiny furniture made up of hard angles and gleaming surfaces. Rhee channeled that ruler buried deep inside her, her legacy, and strode forward with Lahna at her heels. After a second’s hesitation, Dahlen followed them, and then the daisies.
It was all glass inside, quiet fountains, sleek. How second wave, Tai Reyanna would’ve said. It was nothing like the palace, which still reflected the tastes of the dynasty—their long, rich history captured in carvings and porcelain and tapestries. Things crafted by hand, centuries ago, handed down and preserved so that the Ta’ans would know from where they had come. The old way. Her father’s way. What did stand out was a lush plant that lined the walls. Its vines extended to the ground, with leaves fanning out on either side—a waxy, deep green she hadn’t seen since Dahlen’s wooden ship. Lahna stood beside her and brought her hand to the leaf; a white residue came off and left fingerprints where her hand had been.
They heard light footfalls from down the far corridor and turned. Always one for a dramatic entrance, Nero entered with his arms extended, flanked by a Tasinn at either side. A handful of daisies clustered around him. He likely went through the footage to ensure his best angles were broadcast, and nothing less.
In a flash of recognition, Rhee realized the man on Nero’s left was the same guard, a patch over his left eye, who’d led her to the medical facility where they had drugged Dahlen and forced him to turn on his cube weeks before.
Nero bowed so low Rhee thought he might fall. She willed her face to hide her disgust, and tried to shape it into an approximation of a smile. Pressing her lips together tightly, the corners came up, and her face felt stiff—like ice. It was the best she could do.
“Empress,” he said, “safe at last.” His blue eyes widened, and his face wore a look of concern and relief. He’s much better at faking it than me, Rhee thought bitterly. He motioned to a couch, his arm moving languidly through the air. “Sit.”