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  He turned back to her. “What do you want to order?”

  “I can’t really decide.” She shut the menu and put it down. “I wasn’t really in the mood for Chinese food.”

  “You weren’t? Then why’d we come here?”

  “You seemed to be in the mood for it.”

  “I did? All I did was suggest coming here. We could have gone anywhere else.”

  “It’s no big deal. Can we get something steamed and maybe a noodle dish?”

  “We can leave if you really don’t want this.”

  Becky looked around at the many unoccupied tables. “No we can’t, Dad. Let’s just order. Whatever you want is fine.”

  Chris stared at his menu, confounded. He never had an effective response for the times when Becky got this way. How did parents break through to their kids when they put up these walls? He wondered if she did the same kind of thing with Polly. If his relationship with his ex-wife had been even slightly different, he’d have been able to ask her. He couldn’t acknowledge communication breakdowns like this to Polly, though. Too much ammunition.

  Once they ordered, the food arrived quickly. Becky didn’t seem to have much of an appetite—for food or discussion. After trying several conversational gambits—schoolwork, friends, telling her about his job, trying to get her to suggest something they could do over the weekend—Chris realized he had been rolling a boulder uphill. They finished eating quietly and it was he who flicked on the iPod when they got back in the car.

  “Thanks, Dad, it was great,” Becky said when they arrived back on Polly’s driveway.

  “It was?”

  Becky seemed genuinely surprised that he’d challenged her like that. Her face registered something between hurt and confusion, and then flicked back to casual.

  “Thanks a lot, Dad,” she said, reaching over to pat his arm before pushing out the door.

  Chris watched Becky bound up the steps of the porch and enter the house. She still walked with a bounce, something she’d done from the time she was a toddler. He hadn’t noticed it earlier in the evening.

  She disappeared behind the front door. Chris noticed that he could still feel the touch of her hand on his arm. In every other way, though, she was entirely gone for the night.

  “How worried should I be about this?” Miea said to the man Thuja had sent to brief her.

  “It’s an insect, Your Majesty.”

  “And this particular breed of insect exists only in Jonrae.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “And it feeds on the plants that are currently dying there, which means this insect is therefore dying itself.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Miea leaned back in her chair. Her neck was stiff. She needed a back rub. She’d welcome some good news even more. “Then I suppose I should be extremely worried about this.”

  “The minister told me to express his very strong belief that there’s no cause for serious alarm, that—”

  Miea held up a hand. “It is not necessary to placate me. And I have no interest in partial truths or vague assurances.”

  The man bowed his head slightly. “Your Majesty, I am telling you everything that I know.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Miea said patiently. It wasn’t this man’s fault. Still, another conversation with Thuja was necessary. She needed to let him know that she expected those he sent to brief her to have as much information as Thuja had himself. She knew such a conversation would ruffle the minister. However, there was absolutely no room to spare feelings in this situation.

  The man left a few minutes later after one more failed attempt to ease her mind. That his intentions had been good was as obvious as the fact that he was entirely out of his depth. Still, the man seemed genuinely worried about how this news would affect her. Why were so many people so quick to equate her youth with delicacy?

  Miea could handle the news. She was sure that nothing would come to her as a devastating shock at this point. She was not, however, at all sure what she could do about the news. If indeed a new blight was upon them—and she cautioned herself not to jump to this conclusion—was she equipped to address it? Was anyone?

  She had a few minutes. Time enough to make herself a cup of argo. The kitchen staff would of course be startled and maybe even a little miffed by her appearance, as they were every time she did this. They’d never become accustomed to seeing her there preparing her own beverages, even though she’d done so nearly her entire life. Miea started down the corridor, but as she did, she found Sorbus, her personal assistant, walking toward her carrying an ornately carved stone tray upon which he held a wooden argo pitcher.

  “Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” he said, tipping his head forward. “I thought you might like a bit of warm brew before your next meeting.”

  Miea did her best to smile. She really hated being waited on. There were times when it was necessary, of course, when appearances demanded it. However, she really was entirely capable of getting her own drinks. “Thank you, Sorbus. I was actually just planning to visit the kitchen myself.”

  The man laughed as though Miea were teasing him with absurdities. “That’s really never necessary, Your Majesty.”

  Miea rolled her eyes. There was no point in trying to explain this to Sorbus or anyone else on the staff. She followed him back to her chambers and allowed him to serve the argo, thanking him again before he left. She sat back and sipped the hot drink, still bubbling as the petals of ingenito at the bottom of the cup released their flavor. This was the first quiet moment she’d had since sunrise. The first opportunity for an uncluttered thought.

  The first real chance to mark the day.

  Four years ago on this day, Miea hadn’t awakened at sunrise. She had late classes and chose to sleep in before meeting Dyson for a mid-morning breakfast. The night before had simply been the most romantic evening of her life. She’d thought their plans for the evening were going to involve quizzing each other on the upcoming natural ethics test, but Dyson had something entirely different in mind. Borrowing a vehicle from a friend, he’d driven her nearly an hour away from the university to a tiny restaurant near the Perrot Arch. Under a canopy of kaibab leaves, lit only by the glow of the stars, a waxing moon, and the incandescence of flitting mianuses, they’d eaten the delicate creations of the woman who had prepared every meal here for the past thirty-seven years. A wispy foam bearing the essence of adria. A subtle white stew of cream and lidia broth dotted with rich kunz root. The sweet airiness of a perfectly executed jactorres.

  The food and the setting were hardly the things that had made this night special, though. For this was a different Dyson who had sat before her. They had been dating for several months, and he had always been kind, always entertaining, and he had always made her feel as though she were important to him. However, she also sensed that he had been keeping something back, that no matter how much they enjoyed themselves, Dyson wasn’t willing to let go completely with her. She could tell from the moment’s hesitation before he kissed her or the way his eyes clouded when they talked about the future. Until now.

  “I’ve been kidding myself,” he had said softly, just above the gentle chime of the okka music that played in the background.

  “What do you mean?” she’d said, concerned irrationally that Dyson was thinking about breaking up with her.

  Dyson had looked down at the table and then at his hands. He had smiled shyly at Miea and then looked off in the distance. “I’ve spent the last couple months trying to convince myself that I was okay with what we had. That I understood that your being royalty would someday come between us. I really thought I could live with that.”

  “Dyson, we don’t know—”

  He had reached out for her hand and Miea had stopped talking. “We have a great time, Miea.”

  “Yes, always.”

  “And we can talk.”

  She’d nodded, thinking back on the conversations that sometimes kept them up all night. “Yes we can.”
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  He had squeezed her hand. “And when I touch you, and when I look at you, I feel—I don’t know—otherworldly. It’s like our contact exists on some other plane entirely.”

  Miea had no idea what to say, so she’d simply brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. He couldn’t be breaking up with her if he was speaking like this. However, she had no idea what he was doing.

  “And now I realize . . .” He had hesitated, seeming to consider whether he should say anything else. “. . . I realize that I truly have been kidding myself. Yes, I understand that your future is preordained and shouldn’t include a botanist from Elcano, but it doesn’t matter. I won’t be able to let go of what we have. I love you, Miea.”

  Dyson’s confession had so overwhelmed Miea that she was stunned speechless. Where had this come from? What had happened while she wasn’t watching that caused him to acknowledge this depth of feeling?

  “You didn’t want to hear that, did you?” he’d said, seeming to withdraw a little.

  Miea had pulled his hand toward her again, holding it tight against her cheek. “I did. I absolutely wanted to hear it. I just didn’t expect to hear it.”

  “I need for you to know.”

  Miea had gotten up from her chair at that point and crouched next to Dyson, pulling him into her embrace until they stumbled and landed together on the ground. Their waiter instantly rushed over to ask if everything was okay.

  “Everything is as okay as possible,” Miea had said. She’d turned to look into Dyson’s bright, beseeching eyes and kissed him more passionately and more openly than she ever had before. This time, there had been no hesitation from him at all. Miea hadn’t spent a great deal of time thinking about romance when she was growing up, but this sensation was much more than she’d ever imagined.

  “I love you, too,” she had said, and they’d kissed again before gathering themselves up and sitting back at the table. Miea had wanted to hold Dyson close to her. She had wanted to stare at him from across the table. She had wanted to watch him enter the room repeatedly. She had wanted to be alone with him and she had wanted to be right there, showing off their love in front of the entire world. She had wanted anything that included Dyson, realizing only now how long she’d felt that way.

  In the morning, they had a picnic breakfast in a meadow on the edge of the university. They said little as they ate, but things were different between them now. Miea felt as though a part of herself had blended into Dyson, that there was a piece of her that would forevermore be with him, just as some of him would forevermore be with her.

  “We could skip class,” Dyson said, seemingly drunk with the early spring sunshine, though maybe he was drunk with something else instead.

  “I wish I could. But you know if I skipped even a single class it would cause a royal scandal.”

  He laughed. “It must be excruciating to be perfect all the time.”

  She kissed him teasingly on the lips and then again on the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely excruciating.”

  He held her and Miea could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck, the lean muscles of his arms. What would it be like to disappear into this forever?

  After a moment, Dyson shifted her body away from him and began to gather their things. “Come, my perfect love; our professor awaits.”

  Reluctantly, she rose with him. They walked down the hill arm in arm, and Miea pondered throwing caution to the wind and taking the entire day off with the man she loved. Her parents would certainly hear about it. Her mother would frown and her father would toss off some observation about the responsibility of their birthright. That really wasn’t too much of a price to pay, and it wasn’t as though she intended to adopt a reckless lifestyle. Just a few more hours of leisure with Dyson, then back to school tomorrow.

  She abandoned the idea as whimsy, and they entered the main courtyard to the School of Natural Studies ten minutes before their Propagation and Perpetuation class with Professor Liatris. As they did, Miea’s roommate, Camara, hustled up to them, flustered and out of breath.

  “Miea, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Have you been to the administration building yet?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They sent half a dozen of us out to search for you. You haven’t seen anyone?”

  Miea put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I have no idea what you are trying to tell me.”

  “You need to go to the administration building.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know why. I only know that they said you needed to go there as soon as we found you.”

  Miea glanced over at Dyson. She could tell from his expression that he realized the school wouldn’t summon her to the administration building casually. “I’ll go right now,” she said apprehensively.

  Dyson touched her arm. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  She shook her head. “You have to get to class. I’ll see you after.” She kissed him lightly and turned so quickly he didn’t have a chance to kiss her back.

  Administration was a short walk away. We’ve gone to war , Miea thought. Troubles with the Thorns had been escalating for months now, and the last time her father had come to visit, he’d told her that he feared that tensions between the nations might get much worse. Certainly, this would mean dramatically increased protection for Miea, maybe even a bevy of personal guards. Dyson wasn’t going to like that. She wasn’t going to like that.

  Dean Sambucus was standing outside of the building. It was obvious, as Miea got closer, that he had been waiting there for her. As soon as he saw her, he ushered her into a private office. Sitting there alone was Amelan, her parents’ chief aide.

  A chill ran through Miea when she saw the man. He wouldn’t be here if we were at war. He would be involved in the planning. This is about something else.

  “Hello, Miea,” he said. “Please be seated.”

  Miea sat down tentatively as the dean left the room. The air was still. Were those red rims around Amelan’s eyes? “Is everything okay?” she said, knowing that “okay” wasn’t a remote possibility.

  “There’s been an accident.” He bowed his head and shook it slowly. When he looked up at her again, Miea knew without a doubt that Amelan had recently been crying. She suddenly felt light-headed. “There was a motorcade this morning out on the Ridge. The king and queen—I’m sorry, your parents—were headed up to Gunnthorn to meet with the prime minister of the Thorns in an effort to begin negotiations on a treaty. As they crossed the Malaspina Bridge, the bridge buckled.”

  Miea threw a hand up to her mouth. She closed her eyes, willing this conversation to be part of an elaborate nightmare.

  “I’m afraid the entire motorcade was lost.”

  Miea’s eyes flew open. “Dad and Mother.”

  “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am, but they are gone. The bridge was more than a thousand feet above the water.”

  Miea lowered her head on the table and sobbed. Sobbed for a period that seemed to go on endlessly and yet wasn’t nearly long enough. At some point she felt a hand on her back that she assumed to be Amelan’s, though her sense of grief was too all consuming to confirm it. My mother and father are gone just like that. Without a warning. Without a good-bye. Eventually she lifted her head. The world was out of focus through her tears.

  “You need to come back to the palace with me. The entire country will learn about this tragedy in the next few minutes, and they will be shocked and devastated. They need to know that our future is secure. They need to see you, Your Majesty.”

  Your Majesty . How many times had she tried on that appellation over the years? How many times had she imagined what it would be like to sit on the throne and receive her subjects? However, never once had she imagined doing it before she turned twenty. And always it was with her aging parents at her side, teaching her how to govern their kingdom.

  “Your Majesty.”

  The title felt unnatural. As though unintended to fit her.


  “Your Majesty.”

  The investigations had gone on for some time. After each report, Miea ordered another. There had to be a reason why this had happened. Bridges didn’t just collapse. Something—someone—had to be to blame. If not the Thorns, then some other faction. It was impossible to imagine that a disaster of this magnitude was simply happenstance, even though study after study had suggested that.

  “Your Majesty.”

  Miea felt the warm wooden cup in her hands, smelled the effervescent ingenito. Slowly it registered that a voice was calling to her. Here. Today. Four years later.

  She looked up. Miea’s eyes adjusted to the present.

  “Your Majesty, the ambassador is here,” Sorbus said. “I’ve put him in the meeting room.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you need another minute?”

  No, I need much more than another minute. Much more than you or anyone else in this kingdom can provide me, Sorbus.

  “No, thank you. Please tell the ambassador I’ll be right there.”

  “He didn’t mention it?” Lonnie said when Becky called her a few minutes after her father dropped her off.

  “Not a word.”

  “Do you think he forgot?”

  “My father? Not a chance. He knew what day it was. And he had to know that I knew what day it was.”

  Becky would remember the details of that day forever, she was sure of it. The entire weekend had been so crazy; starting from the time her parents sat her down Saturday morning to tell her they were breaking up. Dad had a new place in Standridge already, so they certainly weren’t asking her opinion. Their basic message to her was that she should just shut up and accept it. That attitude from her father was nearly as shocking as the news itself. Still, she’d followed him around all day while he tried to pretend that everything was okay—even as he packed his stuff into boxes—and when she decided to just come right out and ask him for some kind of explanation, he just said a bunch of empty things. Everything will be okay. Sometimes the road goes in unexpected directions, Beck. Really, Dad? Could you make it a little more obvious that you think I’m too young to handle what’s actually going on? She remembered being angrier with him than she’d ever been before. She should have forced him to understand how she felt. She just couldn’t do it, though, and that made her even more furious.