Snow
“Snow! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again so soon,” Beaver answered the video call, his smile not quite making it to his eyes. “Was there an issue with the information I gave you?”
She shook her head, forcing her spine straight, her shoulders back. Posture equals confidence, that’s what her mother had always told her. “No, the information was fine. We spoke with him… He was… helpful,” she said, choosing her words carefully.
Beaver laughed. “I’m sure you’re overselling it. I tried to talk to him myself a few times, but could never manage to get anything more than paranoid ramblings from him. This war has taken a toll on him.”
War? That seemed a bit hyperbolic for the struggle that was waging in the Empire. None of the planets she’d visited felt like war-torn worlds, though she didn’t doubt the stress caused by pretending everything was alright while fearing for your life daily. That was the reality her subjects faced. That was what she had to keep in mind.
“I was able to get some information from him about the chips. Maybe a way to disable them all permanently.”
Beaver’s eyes widened under bushy eyebrows and he pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Impressive. You may have your father’s knack for persuasion after all.”
Her mouth turned downward.
“Ah, perhaps not, then?” he said, reading her too clearly for her liking.
“No, no. The information was good, but he was a little… difficult to decipher with the location. I know it’s a long shot, but you and my father were friends. Did he ever mention to you a place he might hide something?”
Beaver’s beard drooped with a frown and he steepled his fingers, tapping them together thoughtfully. “I’m afraid not. What do you know about the location?”
Plick’s voice floated up from the back of her mind, telling her not to trust him. Not to give him too much. They were fighting a common enemy now, but that didn’t exactly make them allies. If there was any chance he could seize control of the Empire instead of her, she didn’t doubt he’d take it.
“Not anything particularly helpful, I’m afraid,” she said.
“Your father always appreciated loyalty above all traits. It was something we disagreed about on occasion. As King, he took issue with my cause.”
She nodded. “I doubt you’d blame him if the tables were turned.”
His eyes glittered and he chuckled under his breath. “You are a lot like him. No, I would probably feel the same way, you’re right. There are places in the Empire still loyal to him for his service during the outlands wars. The Queen hasn’t made an issue out of it because she manipulates their loyalty to Stuart into loyalty to the Empire.”
“Do you think he would have known those places would remain loyal to him?” Talking about her father like this, like he was someone she didn’t know, drove home how much she’d missed out on. Would her father have revealed these secrets to her in his own time, given the chance? Or had he always intended to keep certain parts of himself hidden from her? She couldn’t help but feel like he was becoming more and more of a stranger.
Beaver nodded. “I think it’s possible. There’s one district… Things got pretty ugly there. The Generals all advised he retreat and cede control of the area to the invaders, but he didn’t. He was a stubborn man. Dedicated to all his people equally. Even if we didn’t see eye to eye on the solutions for the Empire, I can’t say I ever lacked respect for him. Especially for that quality.”
“You think they’d be more loyal than most?”
He nodded.
“Okay, that’s a good start. Which district?”
“Aalyrah,” he answered. “Perhaps if you tell me what you’ve learned about the location, I can help you find it.”
Again, unease prickled up her spine and Snow shook her head with a soft smile. “I appreciate the offer. This is something I have to take care of myself, I’m afraid.”
Beaver’s head bobbed in understanding, but she saw a fierceness in his gaze behind the grandfatherly glasses. He was sizing her up. Already planning what he’d do to rob her of the throne once she’d secured it again.
Or was that the paranoia talking again? It was too hard to separate real concerns from imaginary ones.
“I thought you might say that. Especially after that message you sent out. Very clever, but I can’t imagine the Queen’s too happy about it. She may have been content to let you flit about without much effort put into finding you. But now she’ll be out for blood.”
Snow’s brow furrowed, a frown settling in. “What message?”
He laughed. “How many have you sent out? The only one! Citizens couldn’t be happier to know you’ve returned. To know you’re out there fighting for them.”
She nodded slowly, still confused. “That’s good. I’m glad they’re on board.”
“Of course, I would have appreciated a mention, but I understand your reasons for avoiding that.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it. A good ruler doesn’t let anyone know that they’re missing information. “My apologies. I didn’t even think of it,” she said.
“I hope you’ll still think of me when it comes time to take her down for good,” he said.
“You’ll be the first I call.”
“Good. Best of luck, Snow. We’re rooting for you.” Beaver ended the call and Snow couldn’t say why, but she felt uneasy about the whole thing. It was probably just in her mind.
“Aalyrah,” she muttered, bringing up the district on the navigation panel. Who knew if it was right, but it was something.
“How’s it goin’?” Hunter asked, marching up the stairs with his arms full of camping gear. She nodded to him.
“I think I might have an idea of where to go,” she said.
He shoved his payload into a storage locker under the floor. “Oh yeah? That’s good news. Where are we headed?” He sat at the controls, peering over to her screen. No intimate brush of his fingertips or kiss on the forehead this time. She probably shouldn’t come to expect that kind of treatment. Maybe he’d just been caught up in the moment earlier.
“Beaver mentioned the Aalyrah District as being a good contender.”
Hunter nodded and typed some coordinates into the controls. “That’s a big district. Will take a while to get there.”
“That’s good,” she said. “I don’t know much more than that.”
“It’s a start,” he said, reaching for her hand but pulling back at the last minute.
She frowned. Something was definitely up and he wasn’t being forthcoming about it. What had changed since he forced her to eat porridge?
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Buckle up.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but Snow certainly didn’t believe him as she took her normal seat and fastened her safety harness. But she could only work on so many puzzles at a time. Hunter’s shifting moods were a mystery, but not one as pressing as the device her father hid for her.
He’d come around. She hoped.
Once they were at full speed, headed for the Aalyrah district, Snow rose from her seat and went back to the computer.
Hunter swiveled in his chair, back and forth. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“Twins,” she answered. “Either stars or planets. I’m not sure which. That was the first line of the riddle. ‘A twin, but not the jealous one.’”
“I still don’t know how you make any sense of that.”
She shrugged. “My father brought me up on riddles. Puzzles exercise the mind and make for stronger deduction and observational skills.”
“Good qualities for a leader,” he said nodding.
Snow pressed her lips together, thinking about that. “Yeah, I guess so.” Had her father been preparing her to take the throne in his own special way? Her mother had been much more obvious with her lessons, the list of things princesses could and could not do was forever etched into Snow’s memory. But her father’s puzzles had always been like a game. Just a fun thing they did together. Except…
With everything that was happening now, it seemed obvious he’d been readying her. She’d just never seen it before. She smiled, scrolling through the star map, making note of all the twins she found.
Hunter twirled in his chair, occasionally looking over her shoulder. He seemed restless. Maybe bored. They weren’t currently running from anyone, they weren’t exhausted or hungry. Did he not know how to handle the quiet and inactivity?
“So, did you get anything else useful out of Beaver?” he asked, breaking through a long stretch of silence.
Snow was busy jotting down more coordinates to examine. “Hmm? No… not really,” she said, not looking away from the monitor.
Then she paused and sat back, turning to face him. “Actually, he did say something kind of strange.”
“Oh?”
“Something about a message I sent out? You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Maybe there had been a time before when Hunter could hide his emotions from her, but she’d been around him long enough now to notice his eyes widening just a bit, the tips of his ears turning redder.
“I… Uh…” He scuffed his toes on the metal floor with a squeak. “How about some tea?” he said, jumping up from his chair. Snow grabbed his sleeve and pushed him back into his seat.
“How about you tell me what you did?” She gave him a little smirk, playful and teasing, but he still only looked embarrassed.
“Okay, fine,” he sighed. “You were so worried about what the citizens would think. That someone else might take credit for the Summer Palace. And then you were talking so passionately about setting everything to rights… Everyone needed to hear it.”
“Hunter,” she said, a warning in her tone, her eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”
“I… I recorded you and sent out a broadcast,” he said in a rush, all the words running together as one.
“Wait… you did what?”
He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “I thought it would help the cause. Let people know you’re really here, you’re really fighting for them…”
“Yeah, except the Queen will have to know that someone recorded me. She’s going to detonate your chip!”
“Not until I bring you to her. As long as we’re out in space and I’m the only one that knows where you are, I’m safe. She won’t risk cutting off her only link to you.”
“That was really reckless,” Snow said, her voice softer, the image of Hunter still and stiff too easy to imagine. She swallowed. “I don’t want anyone else to die for me, Hunter.”
His head hung below his shoulders, his body folded forward with his elbows on his knees. He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “There are worse causes to die for, Princess.”
And Snow knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word he said. She couldn’t stand the thought of it. Couldn’t believe that he’d put himself at risk like that. Finally, she sighed.
“Well, for what it’s worth, Beaver said that it’s been well-received. That people everywhere are hopeful again.”
Hunter grinned then, and Snow’s heart started galloping. “So…” he prodded, his voice taking on a sing-song lilt.
She sighed. “So, thank you,” she said, trying to hold in a bubble of laughter. “But maybe next time, leave the suicidal plans to me?”
He shook his head. “Not a chance, Princess. Not a chance.”