Chapter One

The Planet Carann, Capital of the Kingdom of the Dozen Stars, Royal Palace

Realm Year 489

The young woman’s eyes snapped open as the last vestiges of the dream came apart and she found herself once again in the bedroom where she had now slept for most nights of the past year and a half. It was a large room – too large, she still thought sometimes – and opulently decorated, though now, in the middle of the night with the windows closed it was mostly lost in shadows. The bed, too, felt overlarge; though it was certainly comfortable, it sometimes added to the feeling that these chambers were meant for grander personages than the girl who now occupied it.

That, of course, was untrue. Artakane I was Queen of the Dozen Stars by right of birth and conquest, and this bedroom and the suite in which it was situated were hers as they had been her mother’s before her. Since she had been crowned, she had faced trials and begun to grow into the role it seemed fate had set for her. But sometimes, late at night, she still felt like that girl from Katanes who was overwhelmed by the world she had somehow stumbled into.

The dream was gone, but she was awake now and felt no inclination to return to sleep. Arta stood slowly, careful not to disturb the person who lay curled up in the bed beside her and pulled her sleeping robe more tightly around her body as she padded across the floor towards the window. She raised her hand and blue light played along her fingers for a moment, and then the curtains and blinds opened before her.

The city of Carann, capital of the planet of the same name, which was in turn the capital of the Kingdom, stretched out before her in all its majesty, glittering as if the stars themselves had come down from the heavens to fill the valley which the palace overlooked. This late at night the sky was dark, and Arta couldn’t make out the specifics of individual structures, but she could see the pulse of the city by the way the lights moved beneath her. Some of them were immobile and stood in vertical clusters; those lights marked the countless towers that during the day made the city glitter like silver; between them moved horizontal lines of lights that marked the passing of flitters. Carann was the largest city on the most heavily populated planet in the Kingdom; it never truly slept, not even in the middle of the night.

My people, Arta thought to herself. That is what those lights signify. And I am their queen; their protector. Protector of the Realm – that is one of my titles. Perhaps the most important. That is what I am for. I am here not to enrich myself at their expense, but so that they might live their lives in peace. It was a heavy burden for a girl who’d only just turned nineteen to carry. But then, Arta suspected it would be no easier at any age.

She rested a hand on the glass of the window and watched the city beneath her in silence, for how long she didn’t know. Gradually, her thoughts strayed from her responsibilities and towards the dream she had just woken from. It had been as clear as life at the time, and even now stood clear in her mind, not fogged by wakefulness and dreams so often were. Arta was an Adept, and Adepts sometimes dreamed true dreams – dreams of power. She had only experienced such things rarely herself, but tonight she was certain of what she’d seen. Normally, they were of the future, or of possible futures, though Arta knew it was possible, albeit dangerous, to communicate in dreams with someone in the present. This had been neither of these.

Tonight, Arta was certain, she’d dreamed of the past.

She remembered the monastery she’d never seen, on Imperium Primus, a world she’d never visited before and hoped she never would. And she remembered the two young men who had conversed with one another upon the monastery wall. The names they called one another hadn’t been familiar, but she was certain she knew them both. Aurelius, dark-skinned and serious, she was certain was the man she knew as Shiran – her tutor and mentor, and the greatest Adept she’d ever known. The other, the one called Lucian, she was less certain of – she couldn’t put a name to him, but she was certain she’d seen him somewhere before. But where?

Memory suddenly rose to the surface – a night, almost two years ago aboard her adopted father’s yacht, and a conversation she’d had with Shiran when he’d told her of a dream he’d had in his youth, and how he’d told it to his friend – and how he’d implied disaster had resulted from it. Arta’s breath caught in her throat. Was Lucian that same friend? He must have been, but who was he, really? And what had happened as a result of that day that had convinced Shiran he’d have been better off to have stayed silent?

Arta wished Shiran were here so that she could question him in person, but he was gone on one of his many strange and secret errands. Midaia, too, was not here, though Arta’s older half-sister was an always unpredictable and somewhat untrustworthy ally at the best of times. She claimed dedication to the Kingdom and to Arta but served that loyalty only how she saw fit; still, she was a powerful and learned Adept. But neither of them was here, and Arta was left to puzzle through these mysteries on her own.

“Credit for your thoughts?” a voice whispered in her ear and an arm wrapped itself protectively around her shoulder. Arta smiled and turned slowly to face Latharna Dhenloc; she hadn’t heard the Realtran knight leave the bed and walk up behind her, she’d been so absorbed in her own thoughts. The two young women were of similar height and build, with the lean muscles and athletic grace of trained swordswomen, though they were quite different in appearance otherwise. Arta’s skin was a warm tan and her hair was black, the most typical coloring on most worlds of the Dozen Stars, but Latharna was a true albino, her hair and skin both stark white, her only blemish the thin dueling scar on her right cheek. While Arta’s hair was worn long, after the common fashion for upper-class women in the Kingdom, Latharna wore hers cut short. And while Arta’s eyes were brown, Latharna’s, revealed now in their true color because the lenses she normally wore to enhance her vision had been put away for the night, were a pale blue that looked almost lavender in the city’s silver light.

Some people found Latharna’s appearance strange or disturbing; Arta thought she was beautiful. But then, she supposed she was biased. Latharna had, after all, saved her life. Several times.

Seeing Latharna’s inquiring expression, Arta shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said. “Couldn’t sleep – bad dreams.” It wasn’t technically accurate, but while Latharna was proficient at an amazing number of things, she was no Adept and couldn’t help Arta here, so there was no point in worrying her for now. “Nothing to worry about now, though.”

Latharna didn’t look convinced. “You’re not telling me everything, are you?” she asked. “Be honest with me, Arta. I’m your knight, and I…” I love you went unsaid, but Arta heard it, nonetheless. “You can talk to me.”

Arta considered for a moment, then drew a deep breath. “Do you ever worry about the past?” she asked. “And how it can affect the future?”

Latharna shot her a flat look. “I grew up at a school, Arta,” she said. “I studied a lot of history. Of course, I do.”

“Well, that’s what I’m worried about now,” Arta said. “It’s been months now since the rebellion ended and Quarinis fled, and since then, the Empire’s been quiet. Too quiet for my liking. They failed to get us to destroy ourselves from within, but surely the Emperor didn’t just give up and decide to leave us alone. They’ll be back, Latharna. I don’t know how or when, but I know they will. They want to finish what Quarinis’s assassins started. It’s all about history, Latharna – my history, yours, my mother’s, the Empire’s, the Kingdom’s – and somehow it all fits together, but I don’t see how.” And the people who do know aren’t here to explain things to me. And somehow, she knew that two boys who had spoken on a monastery wall centuries ago had set these events in motion, but how their story fit into hers she was still trying to understand.

“Arta,” Latharna said, sympathy in her eyes. “I’m your knight, and I am your lover. I will fight for you, I will protect you, I will counsel you, be there for you to cry on my shoulder if you have to – and right now, I’m telling you that you won’t solve this by brooding by your window in the middle of the night. You have an important meeting with the council tomorrow, remember? The Kingdom needs you rested. Go back to bed and get some sleep. We’ll deal with what comes next in the morning.”

Arta smiled wryly. “I suppose you’re right, as usual,” she said. “Is that the official opinion of the Crown’s Champion, my knight?”

Latharna returned her grin. “I suppose it is at that, my queen.” Leaning in, she planted a quick kiss on Arta’s lips.

Arta raised a hand that once again flickered blue, and the blinds and curtains closed behind her, casting the room back in darkness once again as she let herself be led back to bed. Latharna was right. She couldn’t solve all the Kingdom’s problems here and now by herself; tomorrow’s problems, she would have to face tomorrow. For now, she needed her rest.

///

Karani ast Katanes considered herself to be a woman of straightforward character. The fact that she had found herself sister to a queen – through a series of events she still had a hard time believing – didn’t change that fact. In some ways, it didn’t mean much. Karani was the older sister by almost a year, but since she and Arta weren’t related by blood, that didn’t make her a princess, or convey any actual authority at all. It did mean, unfortunately, that Karani found herself constantly accosted by slimy people who thought she could get them an audience with Arta, despite the fact that over the course of a five-minute conversation she usually found herself wanting to hit them instead. It also meant she got to live on Carann, the most spectacular, beautiful planet in the Kingdom, which almost made the first part worth it.

One thing that hadn’t changed was that Arta was still Karani’s little sister, no matter what title she had or who her birth mother had been. And that meant Karani was obligated to look out for her.

Of course, looking out for Arta didn’t have to mean Karani couldn’t have a little fun for herself along the way.

Pulling her hood more tightly around her face, Karani made her way down a busy street at Carann’s ground level. It was late, of course – Arta was probably in bed by now – but a city like Carann never truly slept. Neither did places like the one she was currently headed for. She grinned under her hood; whatever his other faults, she had to thank Shiran for this – he’d given her a taste for the nightlife. So, she guessed she owed him. A little.

Finally she arrived at her destination; a door under a flashing sign that depicted an alien warrior – she thought it was a Csarag, not that the art was very accurate if that was the case – perched on a flitter bike and grinning as he hoisted a frothing mug in salute, above the name Marauder’s Trove. Shooting a grin back at the mascot, Karani marched up to the door and flashed her ID at the bored-looking bouncer who waited there. His eyes widened when he saw her name, but she held a finger to her lips and slipped him some credits. That ought to keep him quiet about who she really was.

Inside the tavern, Karani pulled back her hood and threw open her cloak, taking a moment to bask in the atmosphere. The place was dingy, lit with flashing signs advertising various products and a holoscreens tuned to various channels, most of them entertainment of one sort or another. It was noisy, full of people milling about or seated at tables or the bar, eating or drinking and conversing loudly with each other. Off past the bar, Karani thought she saw a dance floor and her eyes lit up – she might have to make her way over there later. Karani loved to dance almost as much as she loved to fight.

Despite what people who first met her sometimes thought, Karani wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite, really. As a little girl, none of the assignments her tutors had given her had ever interested her because none of them had ever been hard. But Karani was an energetic and athletic girl and had grown to be an energetic and athletic young woman – the power and grace of the body in motion, whether in dance or combat, that excited her.

Spotting an empty seat at the bar, she sat down and called for the bartender to bring her a drink – a special whose name on the menu had caught her eye. For a moment she glanced around warily, but it seemed like nobody recognized her. That was good. Most people in the Kingdom had heard the name of Karani ast Katanes, the queen’s sister, by now, but Karani wasn’t in public view as much as Arta, nor was she as immediately recognizable as Latharna. Most people didn’t seem to know her by sight, and they certainly wouldn’t expect her to turn up in a seedy bar in the middle of the night.

Karani’s drink – not, admittedly, her first this evening - arrived and she sipped carefully as she watched the other patrons around her. Most of them were young, athletic, and had the air of people who knew their way around violence – and some of them still wore the colors of whatever duchy or barony they hailed from. Which was why Karani had made a point of coming here; Marauder’s Trove was a haunt favored by young soldiers and even a few knights attached to the retinues of the various council members, and if the place was packed tonight, it was because of the prospect of tomorrow’s meeting. Arta was meeting with the council, all of them, in person, not over holo. She had announcements to make, and though she was riding a wave of popularity following her defeat of the Dukes’ Rebellion at Tantos III, some of the reforms she’d been proposing ever since hadn’t exactly been met with acclaim.

And so, Karani was here to listen to a bunch of drunk soldiers from various duchies boasting and gossiping with each other, in case they let slip something that Arta needed to be warned about. And, admittedly, to enjoy her ale, which was surprisingly good. Karani made a note to come here more often.

The first half-hour or so, however, proved distressingly unfruitful. Normally, Karani would have been fascinated to hear about the interconnected web of love affairs and duels of people from far off planets, which was what most of the patrons here seemed to be talking about, but so far she heard nothing that would be remotely of interest to Arta. And it wasn’t even like she could recommend the place – Arta was a queen and queens didn’t go out drinking with the common people, not that Arta drank much anyway. Apparently, alcohol and Adept powers didn’t mix well. And Latharna didn’t drink anything stronger than water; probably what came of having been all but raised by a monk. So Karani just sighed and turned her attention to one of the holoscreens, which was showing a game of shatterball, a sport she was fond of, though she didn’t follow either of the teams currently playing.

Suddenly the door slammed open and a half-dozen people walked in, clad in red and gold. Karani went on alert; red and gold were Sakran colors. Darius ast Sakran may have changed sides at the end of the Rebellion and turned the tide of battle, but the truth was a lot of Sakrans still supported their old duke and didn’t agree with their new one’s decisions.

Karani tensed as the Sakrans moved towards a table, whose previous inhabitants quickly scooted aside to make way for them. Their leader was a big fellow, and not half bad looking, though he had a nasty smirk on his face; the others took up seats around him as a mech floated over to take their orders. Karani leaned over surreptitiously as the leader began talking, the others hanging on his every word.

“It’s a damned disgrace, is what it is,” he was saying. “Duke Naudar wouldn’t have stood for it, I tell you.”

“Naudar’s not Duke anymore, Ark,” one of the other Sakrans pointed out. “Darius is, and he seems tight with the queen these days.”

“Darius may be a great swordsman, but I tell you he’s no politician,” Ark spat. “The girl’s got him snowed; don’t know how, but she does. Maybe she used an Adept trick, got inside his head. She’s a snake, that one is. And you know what I heard she’s going to do tomorrow?”

“What?” the Sakrans asked, leaning in close.

“I heard that she’s going to strip the nobility of their power and rights!” Ark said, pitching his voice loud enough to carry across the room. Karani imagined it was on purpose; he wanted people to hear. “’Cause she’s scared, see? Doesn’t want another rebellion, so she’s going to take our power and turn us all into a bunch of Realtran weaklings!” Karani smirked inwardly at that, wondering what Latharna would make of being described as a “weakling.”

“And I hear,” Ark went on, “that she’s still holding Duke Naudar, too. And that she’s going to execute him someday soon, as a warning against anyone else who might stand up to her!”

Karani’s glass hit the floor and shattered. “That’s a lie,” she spat, rising to her feet.

Ark looked up, expression dark. “Are you calling me a liar, girl?” he asked.

“Clearly, I just did,” she shot back. “I know for a fact that Duke Naudar is to be publicly tried for sedition and rebellion, but he probably won’t be executed. Life in prison is more likely.” Mentally, for the first time in her life, Karani thanked the old civics lessons she’d had to sit through. “Queen Artakane follows the law. Unlike some.”

The Sakrans stirred as Ark rose to his feet and marched over to Karani. She looked him straight in the eye; he seemed surprised by that. This Ark struck her as the kind of fellow who was used to looming over others, and perhaps specially to looming over women, but Karani came from a tall family on her father’s side, and she was tall even by their standards. There were few people indeed, men or women, who could loom over her.

If Ark was put off by this, he gave no sign. “Why don’t you keep quiet about things you know nothing about, huh?” he asked, voice dangerous.

“Well, if we’re talking about knowing nothing, I think you’d best look in the mirror,” Karani returned in the same tone. “Because I see a man who doesn’t know as much as he thinks right in front of me.”

Ark growled. “I am a knight of Sakran Duchy, girl,” he said. “And I will not be spoken to in that tone!”

“Well, I’m a knight of Carann Duchy and the daughter of a baron, so I will speak to you however I choose,” Karani said. “And you’re what, five years older than me? So, lose the ‘girl’, thank you.”

“Yeah, why don’t you sit down, big fellow?” a voice said from behind her; Karani saw several people from the bar move to join her, and recognized a couple of them belatedly as off-duty royal guards; thankfully, none of them seemed to have realized who she was just yet.

“Yeah, Ark,” a woman from the Sakran table said. “Sit down, have a drink. This doesn’t have to get worse.”

“Doesn’t it?” Ark asked, eyes smoldering. “Well, you say Duke Naudar was a rebel and a traitor, but I say the real traitor is sitting on the throne of Carann! That girl is witch; everyone knows it. She probably used her arts to trick her way into power – how do we even know she’s related to Aestera at all? And what about that Realtran freak she made her champion and a Knight of the Realm, eh? Nobody ever heard of the girl before; you want my opinion, I think the witch just knighted her because she crawled into her bed…”

Ark never got a chance to finish that thought; Karani’s hand came up sharply, and then her palm slammed directly into his nose. He stumbled backwards, reeling and cursing; the other Sakrans caught him and held him steady. When he looked back up, there was blood streaming down his face. Not so handsome now, are you?

“You hit me!” Ark said, rage and disbelief warring in his voice. Weapons weren’t allowed in the Trove, but his fellows were balling up their fists behind him and dropping into fighting stances. Karani’s companions did the same.

“That I did,” she said, grinning. “And I’ll do it again, too, since you don’t look like you’ve learned your lesson quite yet. Come now, boys. Shall we dance?” Grinning even wider, Karani raised her hand and beckoned in challenge.

The Sakrans charged, fists swinging.