"All right," I said, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. For a second, I didn’t have a clue what to say next; but then the words began to come — not like being possessed, but as if a spark had suddenly jumped across a dead-gap inside my head.

"In the name of High Queen Verity the Second…" I felt strange, as if something was waking up inside of me. "In the name of her daughter and rightful successor, Innocence the First…" The words kept flowing — from my own head, but some part I’d forgotten was there.

"In the name of my obligations as defender of the crown, and bearer of the burden of royal blood…" Like there’d been a whole section of my brain that’d closed itself off, shoved down dormant till the day I finally faced up to everything I’d known but not admitted — that my sister and father were monsters, that I was someone special, that I had a duty I’d been trying to escape for years and years.

"In the name of all that I am, all that I have been, and all that I should be… I accept responsibility as steward of this realm, regent until such time as the true monarch of Troyen assumes her proper throne."

I could barely catch my breath. My head felt so clear… as if I could sense all of creation as one unified whole all around me. For one brief second, I swear I knew what was coming a heartbeat before it happened. I was already turning around when the words came.

"That’s so sweet, brother," Sam said from behind me. "I must compliment whoever wrote that speech for you. Pity you’re going to have the shortest regency on record."

43

CONFRONTING THE BLACK QUEEN

Without the slightest pause, Festina dropped and rolled. You wouldn’t think someone could move that fast in a bulky tightsuit… but in the blink of an eye, she’d spun across the parapet and grabbed the scalpel Plebon used to cut open the front of her outfit. Another blink and she was poised above my father’s clone, holding the blade to his throat.

Only then did she look up to see where my sister’s voice came from.

At least this time we hadn’t let someone sneak up under our noses — nothing was anywhere near us. My amazing sensation of comprehending the universe had begun to fade, but I still had a sense of exactly where to look: out past the palisade wall, all the way to the second canal.

Soaring high above the water was a huge glass cube, three stories tall, three stories wide, three stories deep. A faint blue glow glimmered inside — softer than candlelight, barely enough for the cube to be visible against the night’s blackness. Shadowy somethings moved about within, but it was too far away to make out anything clearly… just wavery motions that meant nothing to me.

I’d soon have my chance to look again from closer up: the cube was flying straight at us, fast as a horse could gallop.

As it drew nearer, I noticed a parabolic dish mounted on the cube’s roof — one of those fancy gadgets for eavesdropping on people a long way away, and for talking back to them if you felt like it. That’s how Sam had heard what we were saying and put in her two cents worth. When you thought about it, that kind of communication system would be pretty useful in a war like Troyen’s. Thanks to the Fasskister Swarm, there were almost no radios on the planet… so if you wanted to talk to soldiers on the other side of a battlefield, you had to use something different, like tight-focused sound waves. The big hearing dish would also be handy for listening in on enemies: picking up battle plans, status reports, and juicy stuff like that.

So here was another reason Sam had won the war. No other queen would have a flying command post with all kinds of complicated audio equipment. It was kind of surprising Sam could have that kind of stuff… but then, she was doing business with the Fasskisters and our own navy. She must have got them to smuggle in a few goodies that were immune to anti-electronics nanites.

As the cube soared over the palisade, defenders on the ground peppered the glass with crossbow bolts; but the arrows bounced off as if they were toothpicks. The instant after firing, the guards ducked for cover… because the cube had an escort of four Laughing Larries, one floating under each bottom corner, like round gold casters holding up a floor-model fish tank. None of the Larries tried to fire — they weren’t even making a big howl, just a leisurely spinning whistle — but the warriors below weren’t taking chances.

The cube stopped a stone’s throw away from us, hanging in midair, level with our parapet. The blue glow coming from inside still didn’t reveal much; nothing but unidentifiable shadows. It occurred to me, we probably weren’t seeing the interior at all — just a video projection, all murked up, like a thick gauze curtain that hid almost everything but let through enough to catch your attention.

No matter how hard it was to see in, I was sure Sam could see out just fine… with fancy nightscopes and sensors that showed our group as bright as if it were sunny afternoon.

"So. Edward." Sam’s voice sounded clearly from the cube, as if we were talking face-to-face, not separated by thick arrow-proof glass. "You’ve finally come back to me."

"I’ve come back," I said. "But not to you."

"To whom then? Those poor castaways from Willow! By now you must know there’s only one left; Daddy rather used up the other one. I can’t tell you how angry he was that they stayed behind — he hates loose ends."

Tobit gestured to the unconscious man with Festina’s knife to his throat. "At this moment, your dad’s a loose end himself."

"Yes, I figured you’d take him hostage." Sam gave a theatrical sigh. "Pity you won the tug-of-war. Daddy was up on Willow, cannibalizing parts to make some more Laughing Larries—"

Plebon gasped. "You’ve got Willow here?"

"And a ship of my own," Sam told him. "A pretty black one. We do a lot of manufacturing up there, where we don’t have to worry about Fasskister nanites. Anyway, I told Daddy not to try a landing, but he insisted it would be safe. He’d tapped into your own satellite sensors, and watched Edward break that anchor box. He thought it was the only one you had. Idiot. And speaking of idiots, brother, why did you smash the box?"

I didn’t answer. Eventually, Sam sighed again. "I’m hurt, Edward. You never used to keep secrets from me. But then, you’re probably upset. I’m sure Gashwan has been telling all kinds of awful truths about me."

The front of the cube bloomed into a big view of my sister’s face, as if the whole surface was a single huge vid-screen. Even blown up three stories tall, Sam still looked beautiful: eyes warm and twinkling, her skin flawless, her face gaspingly perfect.

"So, Edward," she said, "I figure you have an hour before my troops kill you. Any last words?"

"Yes," I said. "We surrender. Any terms you want. Just call off your soldiers."

She shook her head sadly, the way she always did when I was too stupid to understand something obvious. "You heard what I said about loose ends — Dad doesn’t like them. Two weeks from now, a group of navy diplomats are scheduled to show up here, ready to establish new relations between the Technocracy and poor war-torn Troyen. By then, we don’t want anyone left alive who knows what actually happened. That means we have to kill all of you, plus Gashwan and anyone you might have talked to."

"What about the High Council of Admirals?" Festina asked. "Don’t some of them know the truth?"

"Certainly not — it’s Daddy’s little secret. Not even Admiral Vincence knows… despite all the energy he’s devoted to meddling in Daddy’s affairs. The High Council is always such a hotbed of spying on each other. Do you realize, Vincence had bought off the Executive Officer of Daddy’s own ship? That’s right: the XO of Willow was in Vincence’s pocket. It was the XO’s idea to pick up Edward on Willow’s way out of the system; that wasn’t in Daddy’s plan at all. He wanted Edward on that moonbase, where we could keep an eye on him. When Daddy interrogated your Explorer Olympia and learned Willow was taking Edward back to civilization… my, my, my, there was quite the tantrum."