March 26, 2019. 8:59 pm.

When my vision clears, only Rufka and I remain in the room. Tipan must’ve snuck away while I was zoned out.

“Wyonna?” I ask, struggling to push myself out of the leather and bone chair that kept me from sprawling entirely on the floor.

“Yes Lexi?” She responds without appearing, her voice emanating from a spot near the door.

“How long till we reach Betheryne?”

“Between nine and ten hours depending on the weather.”

“Thanks. This room’s private?”

“Yep. Only you and Tipan have access.”

“Cool, taking a break. Don’t let Tipan in please,” I say. Then I pull Rufka to the side, creating a bath as I offer her a massage. Rufka sighs in satisfaction as I work over her shoulders, rebuilding my missing hand with a small infusion of Twilight before infusing it with water.

Rufka lets out a moan before saying, “I understand why you didn’t tell me about the System stuff. Bad idea to reveal your weakness in hostile territory.”

“Not just that. There’s more.”

Rufka shushes me, “Finish first. You can tell me after.”

I push her forward, working her lower back. “Wish it was as easy as giving a massage. I’m worried about… Well, I need to talk to Beth.”

“Long as it’s not too dangerous. Mum’d kill me if something happened to you now.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re worried about? Your mum.”

“Uh, yeah. She’s terrifying,” Rufka mumbles while pushing back against my hand.

“I don’t know, kitten, I like her.”

“Yep. Cause you’re terrifying too.”

“Feels more like terrified. Don’t suppose you’ve got any of that moonshine that you were holding out on?” I ask, feeling my throat close.

“Nope. Just my love and support.”

I sigh dramatically, “I guess that’ll just have to be enough.”

Rufka and I spend most of the trip sleeping then chatting, just lounging around out of sight of ‘my people’. Honestly, they feel more like Tipan’s people. Which… honestly makes sense. They are her fellow countrypeople. And she’s the one taking care of them.

As we’re approaching Betheryne, Wyonna informs me the System has sent us a notice that we can’t proceed further without intruding on foreign soil. Even as we’re preparing to fly the rest of the way without the city, a delegation is spotted approaching from the east, near the sprawling refugee camp that now surrounds Betheryne. The delegation are all K’tharn. I recognize at least one symbol of the minister of Defence. There are others as well, but I don’t recognize who they represent.

Wyonna suggests I greet them on my throne, and I agree. The way these leaders abandoned their own people to rot inside the Abyss still bothers me. Only right that we should bother them back.

There are several rows of barely organized recruits standing at attention when the visiting party approaches. I’m surprised to see I recognize one of the delegation members, though she seems to be taking a passive role. Tipan's father, Talkith, is standing at the back, surveying everyone. While she casts her gaze over Tipan and I once, her attention remains primarily on the surrounding K’tharn.

From the delegation, a K’tharn I don’t recognize calls out in a loud voice, “In the name of the Aetherium, I, Myltharia of clan Telhothing, stand before you, calling for your immediate surrender. You will relinquish this city to its rightful owners. A refusal of this request is a declaration of war. Further, all citizens of the Aetherium will be handed over for processing for their crime of raising arms against the Aetherium.”

Even as a disgruntled rumbling spreads through the surrounding K’tharn, I gauge her as she continues. She doesn’t seem keen on receiving a response as her diatribe continues. She passes the five-minute mark without pausing for breath. A definite disadvantage of everyone having superhuman Stamina.

She’s not even saying anything new, just repeating herself using fancier words. I wonder if she’s ever had to practice diplomacy before. The M’tari might be stuffy, but they seem to know how to interact with other powers without attempting to declare war when their entire society is camped outside the walls of a city they don’t even control.

There is a teensie possibility I might be a little bitter.

Finally exhausted by the K’tharn’s whining, I whisper to Tipan, my voice carried by my diminished wing-magic. She nods and her voice cuts out. She’s still talking, but thanks to the glorious power of Tipan’s wind magic, her voice fails to penetrate her invisible barrier.

“I’m new to this whole ruling thing, but she seems rather rude. Strange tact,” I note, looking down at where the K’tharn is still speaking. “Has she even looked in our direction since she’s started?”

“The minister of Relations doesn’t often get the chance to speak to other nations,” Tipan explains, a small smile tugging her lips upward.

I stare down at the K’tharn who still hasn’t realized we’re not listening. “Wait. She’s the minister of Relations? How did that happen?”

Tipan shrugs, though the smile remains fixed in place, “From what mother says, it’s mostly a ceremonial role. The M’tari dictate terms, they don't negotiate with the Aetherium. And other than them, the Aetherium hasn't had contact with another nation in centuries. Except maybe the academy? The M’tari don’t exactly let the Aetherium cross to the other continent.”

Nodding, I look past the minister to Talkith who nods in my direction when our eyes meet, leaving me slightly unsettled. Glancing back at the minister, I decide I’ve had enough. I hold my hand out toward her, a matching hand of molten metal emerging from the throne below me, emphasizing the gesture in a way the minister would have to be blind to miss.

To her credit, the minister stops talking when the giant hand of metal appears.

“So, let me get this straight. You want me to hand over my city? Disband my forces? And surrender myself and my people into your custody?” I ask, trying to keep from laughing. And failing as I quietly chuckle at the end. The crowd of K’tharn around us echo my laughter, my people joining in. But there’s an edge to it.

The fool doesn’t even take a second to process their reaction, nodding as she says, “That is precisely what is required. I’m certain the minister of Defence will forgive you for this inconvenience.”

This time I don’t even try to hold back my laughter, letting it roll across the courtyard, infused with Twilight as I focus on the minister. “If you’d asked that I come with you, no problem. Or if you’d asked for our aid in caring for your people? I’d be tripping over myself to help. Instead you focus on what? Stripping me of the tools I’d use? Are you even aware that you’re squatting in the ruins of your own nation?”

The minister, looks about, her eyes narrowing when she spots Talkith. Talkith is no longer guarding her, instead engaged in a conversation with Baska and her squad. Several of the delegate's guards are also gathered around the former desh’mersa players, listening as Baska talks to Talkith. This seems to steal a great deal of the minister’s confidence, as her posture folds in on itself when she turns back toward me. For the first time, she looks at me as though acknowledging I’m there. “I have delivered the terms as decided by Aetherium’s council. That you have chosen not to cooperate will be conveyed to the council. Assuming you don’t intend to attack a diplomatic ambassador.”

Leaning forward, I focus on her, my voice thrumming with power. “Go. Tell your council that we came in peace. And we leave in peace.”

She nods, swirling in place. Several of her guards fall in around her, but more look toward Talkith who is still engaged in conversation. Even as the minister leaves, she stumbles when Talkith orders her squad to remain.

The minister is out of sight moments later. With her gone, I descend, approaching Talkith directly. “Talkith,” I greet her, my voice even. Given our history, I’m not certain how this is going to play out.

Talkith turns away from Baska, who is already bowing in my direction. Talkith’s eyes dance across our group, before settling on me.

“Alexis. Or I suppose it is Queen Pandora now.”

“For the moment.”

“It’s strange to see an Outlander leading K’tharn. It must happen offworld, but I never imagined the day I’d see it on Akilo.”

“The M’tari lead K’tharn,” I point out.

Talkith laughs, the sound so like Tipan’s I involuntarily glance to my companion. “The M’tari don’t lead anyone. They do as they will, allowing K’tharn to follow or not as they choose.”

“Hmm. I suppose.” I pause, tapping my thigh as I consider how to phrase my next question. “It appears we’re not wanted here. I assume the Stormguard don’t share the Aetherium’s hostility. Would you be able to send word to our companions?”

“It can be arranged. I would like to visit more of… your people," Her gaze turns outward for a moment before snapping back to me. "But I’ll send a flier.”

“Thank you,” I say, as my vision suddenly blurs again. I bow slightly to Talkith, trying to disguise the unsteadiness that seems to have accompanied the blurring. I use a bow Uthica used to give to fellow queens who were of a similar standing as herself, which helpfully also keeps me rigid. Hopefully it’s still recognized as such. I need to escape before my condition causes me to collapse in front of everyone. “Sorry, I cannot stay to introduce you. I have other matters that need to be addressed.”

“Of course. Rufka. Daughter,” Talkith nods to each of us in turn, a smile firmly in place when she acknowledges Tipan. I note Tipan’s frown as her father steps back. But I don’t have time to support her.

Striding away, I nearly stumble, prevented from doing so only by Rufka’s supporting arm. I shouldn’t have come down off the throne. But then, I had no desire to force Talkith to approach me. If I even could’ve. As Rufka escorts me inside the temple-palace that’s arisen beside the control spire, I can’t help but hope Roberts doesn’t take too long to get here.

Even if Beth is going to be with him.