Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)(36)

He paused to glance at Ianthan, as if to check he was still following us—or perhaps wondering if he was listening in on the conversation. Ianthan’s stony expression gave away nothing.

“Wow,” I remarked. “Politics sounds like a bloody business where you’re from.”

“Isn’t it like that everywhere?” he asked. “The sisters took up their thrones after the resistance was wiped out, and set about ruling Vysanthe as it had always been ruled—as one united nation, facilitating trading from the north to the south, allowing distribution of the varying resources that each polar continent produces. However, less than a few months into their rule, things began to deteriorate. As twins, one could hardly exert authority over the other. They each developed their own ideas for how they foresaw Vysanthe’s future. A roundtable was established to help mediate between the two sisters and come to a negotiation, but ultimately, they failed to cooperate, and a compromise was made to divide Vysanthe into two rulerships—two governments.

“Many citizens were unsettled and upset by this, at first, as it was a complete paradigm shift that hadn’t been done before in all of recorded history. Vysanthe, due to its long track record of wasting and misusing resources in general, is a planet that produces little for its own sustenance, and hence needed to be managed by one central authority to ensure even distribution of resources.

“Under the new split regime, however, it became practically each to her own. The sisters had certain agreements in place, but it quickly became clear that they were more interested in developing their queendoms individually—primarily by dragging resources from other planets.

“So, that has been the status quo for the past decade—the twin sisters ruling their queendoms separately—but… a number of us have reason to believe that the queens are growing tired of this status quo. After all, compromise means two people getting something neither actually wants—and that’s exactly what happened when they split Vysanthe in two. Both wish to be the sole ruler, and both believe they are the one most qualified to do so. One of the reasons Vysanthe has become so obsessed with material advancement—including the search for immortality—is both are engaged in a game of one-upmanship, trying to outdo the other and prove how they are the more capable, forward-thinking leader, to their populace, and the populace of the other side. Each is vying to become Empress.”

“It would sure make a great reality show,” I said, though I knew it really wasn’t anything to joke about.

“No official statement has been made yet regarding a war,” Navan continued, “or anything of that sort—at present, it is merely a feeling many of us have. We sense the rumblings of discontent from both ends of our land.”

“I see,” I said slowly. “And where would that leave you and your brothers, if there’s a war? You’d stay on Gianne’s side—or try to transfer to Brisha’s?”

“We’d have no choice but to stay on Gianne’s side. Brisha is picky about who she grants residency to in her territory, because she thinks any outsiders could be spies. My family, especially, due to its rank. In order to be allowed over to Brisha’s side, they’d have to offer something exceptionally valuable to her, to prove themselves trustworthy beyond doubt.” He threw a scowl in Ianthan’s direction. “Something I for one am not quite selfish enough to do.”

“Your family’s rank,” I repeated, distracted by his previous statement. “What is your family, exactly?”

From Navan’s expression, the question clearly made him uncomfortable. “My father is a highly valued… advisor of Queen Gianne. And my mother is a weak, silly woman who would never stand up for anything that didn’t support her husband’s status in society. That’s pretty much all you need to know about them.”

The disdain in his voice reminded me of how I regarded my own parents. Though, his tone was closer to vehemence—it seemed to be rawer, fresher, like a recently opened scar, rather than a closed one, like mine was these days (for the most part).

My thoughts returned to Ronad, and the anguished words I’d heard him speak back in his recovery room. Perhaps his tragedy was one of the reasons behind Navan’s bitterness toward his parents, though I wasn’t insensitive enough to bring up that topic now. Navan had made clear earlier that he didn’t want to talk about Ronad’s past.

“I’m sorry to hear that about your parents,” I said.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about,” he replied. “It’s just free will. Everyone has it.”

Free will. That term seemed to mean something to him, I realized, as I recalled his answer to a question I’d asked the day before. “Every creature in the universe is born with free will. We can choose to be different, even if we share the same anatomy.” It had struck a chord with me then, and it did again now, given that free will was the only hope I had to carve out a life for myself that was different than my parents’. Even though this man and I were from entirely different corners of the universe, it was a sentiment we both clung to, it seemed.

Though, I imagined his daily battle had to be much more difficult than mine. After all, I hadn’t been brought up to be a literal beast. He had his whole physiology to contend with, too.

It made me consider Navan’s personality in a new light, and I felt that I finally understood him better. I thought back on all the behavior I’d observed so far in him, like that first encounter when he’d shown us his fearsome true form—and how, in spite of that, he’d been insistent to the point of being fanatical that we not be harmed, and that we take the Elysium voluntarily rather than being forced to. Shortly afterward, he’d engaged in a candid negotiation with me, and agreed to my terms to give us more information. Then he’d been a gentleman and arranged for us all to be placed back in our bedroom (I couldn’t blame him for Jethro deciding to take a slurp out of me along the way). None of this behavior was characteristic of your average Vysanthian, clearly—Jethro alone had proven that, and I imagined that Jethro had to be one of the much nicer coldbloods inhabiting that world, given that Navan hung out with him. His upbeat and sometimes quirky comments, which I’d found odd at first, also made more sense now.