CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ren went with his aunt to the tomb.
It was outside the city because when the queen had died — the first, true, time — she’d said that she wanted to rest somewhere far from the cares of government. So this quiet place had been found and a tomb carved into the side of a hill, a place where the remains of their family had been kept ever since.
They nodded to the honor guard that stood outside and stepped into the cool, dry space, their footsteps echoing against the smooth stone floor. Ren felt guilty realizing he hadn’t been here to visit his mother in a long time. Her carved face stared out serenely from in front of the niche where her ashes were kept.
They walked past the stone busts of their family to the full-length statue at the farthest end of the tomb. Queen Morowa looked younger and taller than when Ren had seen her, but the sculptor had captured the strength of her gaze.
His aunt held the necklace in her hands, and she stared down at it. “I wonder,” she said, more to herself than to Ren, “if she simply didn’t want to talk to me.”
Ren looked at her in surprise. “Aunt Ilona, no. That isn’t what this is about at all.”
For years his aunt had worn the title of regent and had made her bearing and manner as regal as possible to match, but now she seemed uncertain. “I disagreed with my sister about a lot of things, but when she died I tried so hard to do what I thought she, or Mother, would have wanted. I had so many doubts. My father must have seen that, maybe that’s why… he did what he did.”
“What Papa did, he did out of love. He thought he was protecting us. It’s no different than the reason why the queen made the Heart in the first place.” He took her hand; it may have been the first time he’d ever touched her without her initiating it. “It’s not that she thinks you’re unworthy, she knows that we’re finally ready to move past her.”
She squeezed his hand. “I just hope this isn’t a mistake.”
“If it is, then you’ll try something else.” Ren looked around the room, with all of its still faces. “The past will always be here, but we can’t live in it.”
Ilona nodded and took up the necklace with both hands. She carefully hung it over the head of the statue, so that it rested against the queen’s chest.
His aunt bowed her head for a long moment, and then the two of them turned and walked back out of the tomb, leaving the jewel behind.
“I hope you’ve been giving some thought to your role, Ren,” Ilona said once the doors of the tomb were locked. They walked through the small monuments and stones that marked the cemetery around the family crypt.
“My role?”
“In the succession. I’m grateful for your support of my coronation, but there’s no reason anymore why you can’t be the monarch. If not right now, then in a few years.”
“Me?” Ren felt his stomach drop. “But your children—” He didn’t particularly get along with his first cousins, finding them pretentious, but that didn’t make them unfit to reign.
“Everything is changing,” Ilona said. “Perhaps our qualifications for lead shouldn’t be based on genetics. You’ve proven yourself.”
“There are people far better suited to leadership than I am,” Ren said. “And you’re right about looking beyond bloodlines. There are tens of thousands of people on Arcadia. They should get a say in their future.”
His aunt rubbed her chin. “Some of us in the family have been talking about expanding the citizen advisory councils into something with real power. We can’t change everything too quickly without resistance, but if we present a unified front—”
She walked on toward their transport, talking of meetings and proposals. Ren followed, listening and nodding, but inside he felt a familiar sense of dread. He was out in the open air, but walls seemed to be growing up all around him.
As soon as they got back to the palace, Ren made his excuses and hurried back to the hospital wing, feeling a slight sting from his aunt’s unspoken disappointment at his shirking of his duties. But when he went into Sebastian’s room it was empty, the bed stripped.
“Where is he?” Ren demanded of the first person he saw. The nurse blanched and hurried away, to be replaced by a doctor who tried to talk soothingly about Sebastian’s progress. Ren had helped him walk unsteadily around the room that very morning, but he was outraged at the thought of the still-weak Sebastian being kicked out. Finally, his second cousin, who was in charge of the medical facility, came out and dragged him into her office.
“He’s fine, Ren,” she said. “He was discharged a couple of hours ago, so stop yelling at my staff.”
“I wasn’t yelling,” Ren said loudly and then took a breath. “How do you know he’s all right? You’re not a doctor.”
She tossed her braided hair back from her face to frown up at him. “No, but I have communicated with every piece of diagnostic equipment that’s been intimately attached to him. The organ regeneration is complete, and he’s better off some place he can move around more freely and not lose muscle tone. Also, his friends were here all the time. It was a bit much.”
Ren ground his teeth. “Where is he now?”
She closed her eyes briefly while she conferred with the palace computers. Some small, scared part of Ren whispered that Sebastian had gotten on The Wayward Prince and flown away, but he quashed that.
“He’s been assigned a room on the eighteenth level. A perfectly nice one, you know, where they put off-world trade delegations.”
“Why wasn’t he taken to my quarters?”
“Why would he be?” she asked back. “No, seriously, Ren. It’s hard to hide that you’ve been hanging around here all the time, hovering over his bed. People talk.”
“People can say or do whatever they wish, it has nothing to do with Sebastian and me.”
His cousin sighed. “I’m on your side, Ren. Remember how I backed you and Ilona in the family meeting the other day? This is your moment, you’re finally putting that runaway prince image behind you. But how is it going to look if you’re carrying on with some off-world mercenary?”
Ren felt his calmest and coldest mask settle over his features. “Would you please have someone show me to his room?”
“Fine,” she said, “just don’t shout at them.” As he turned to leave her office, she called after him. “I hope you remember how helpful I’m being when it’s budget time. Don’t let Cousin Alfonso grab all the resources for another one of his roadway projects. Put in a word with Ilona for me, will you?”
The orderly who’d been assigned to take him to Sebastian’s room caught Ren’s mood and stayed silent. Ren thought about demanding that Sebastian be moved to his quarters, annoyed that the palace bureaucrats had decided their relationship wasn’t worth acknowledging. But then Ren hadn’t made any sort of public acknowledgment himself. He wondered, too, if Sebastian had requested a room away from Ren. Did he want space?
There was no response to his knock, but the door wasn’t locked so he went inside the dimly lit room. It was a respectable size at least — only one room but with a sitting area near the door and a wide bed in the back. Sebastian lay on it, fully dressed, with one hand flung out and sound asleep.
Ren forgot all of his uncertainty and walked toward Sebastian, shedding shoes and his coat. It felt, too, that the tension was leaving his shoulders and neck with every step. He crept into the bed as softly as he could, trying not to wake him, but Sebastian spoke without opening his eyes.
“How was your day? Bet it wasn’t as exciting as mine — I ate solid food and showered unassisted. The nursing staff was impressed.”
“I went to a tomb,” Ren said, lifting Sebastian’s outstretched arm to stretch out beside him.
Sebastian did open his eyes at that. “Did someone die?”
“Over a hundred years ago.” He put his head on the pillow next to Sebastian and breathed in the scent of his hair. “No one told me they were moving you.”
“I’m sorry.” Sebastian moved his hand to touch Ren’s face. “Things were a bit fuzzy from the last of the painkillers, and it took me a minute to realize these weren’t your quarters. Then I had the idea that I’d take a quick nap and go find you, but the bed — it defeated me.”
“It is a nice bed,” Ren said, because Sebastian was in it. “Do you want to be in my rooms?”
“I want to be where you are.” He started to push himself up on his elbows. “Let’s go to your place.”
Ren gently pressed his shoulders back down. “There’s nothing important there. Nothing else I need.”
“Good, because this bed seems to have a gravitational force…” Sebastian nestled closer, and Ren wrapped his arms around him, closing his own eyes as he let himself surrender to gravity.
Ren opened his eyes to see Sebastian walking back to the bed from the bathroom. He watched him carefully, but Sebastian was moving evenly, albeit slowly.
“Are you all right?”
Sebastian nodded. “Still relishing the novelty of peeing on my own.”
Sebastian had also taken off all his clothes, so Ren had another reason for watching. His eyes were drawn to the wide swath across Sebastian’s stomach where the skin was smooth and lighter than the rest.
“Does it hurt?” he asked as Sebastian lay down on the bed.
Sebastian regarded himself. “Itches a bit.” He took Ren’s hand and pressed it to his stomach. “It won’t be long before you won’t even be able to tell it happened at all.”
Ren didn’t know if that would ever be true. He could remember the sight of Sebastian’s blood, the smell of his burnt flesh, very well. It haunted him when he was away from Sebastian’s side. But Sebastian pressed Ren’s hand against his flesh more firmly.
“Not going anywhere,” he said, eyes black in the dim light.
Ren bent his head to touch Sebastian’s stomach with his lips. He traced the edges of the new skin with the lightest of kisses and then tasted with his tongue to see if there was any difference. Silkier, perhaps, but it was all Sebastian.
He moved to rest his head over Sebastian’s heart. “You are feeling better,” he observed, looking down the length of Sebastian’s body.
“Well,” Sebastian said as they both regarded his growing erection, “I was in that bed for days and days without being able to touch myself. Let’s appreciate that all my organs are functioning.”
“I do,” Ren said and slid lower on the bed.
Neither of them was ready for anything too ambitious, but it felt good to take Sebastian in his mouth, to feel him swell and harden further against Ren’s tongue. Because they were alive and whole and together in this bed. There was nothing more in that moment that Ren wanted, and he focused only on taste and feel and the breathy sounds Sebastian was making.
Sebastian caressed his cheekbones and smoothed a hand over his head as Ren kept to a languorous pace, taking in more with each suck until his nose was tickled by the hairs at the base of Sebastian’s cock. He hummed around that hard length, casting his eyes upward as Sebastian groaned. Ren pulled back to swirl his tongue around the tip and reached up to thumb one of Sebastian’s nipples until he arched his back.
“Ren—”
Sebastian caught his hand, interlacing their fingers, as Ren sped up his movements. Ren pressed his tongue to the underside of the head, feeling Sebastian’s hand tighten in his. Sebastian cried out, and Ren caught the hot spurt in his mouth. He felt the pulse of Sebastian’s cock and the answering warmth low in his own belly as he swallowed, lapping up every drop with a possessive thirst.
Ren finally pulled away, taking a moment to take off the rest of his clothes so that he could press naked against Sebastian’s warm body. Sebastian kissed him deeply, chasing his own mildly sweet taste in Ren’s mouth.
“Mmm,” he murmured, “there were some benefits to that liquid diet.” He dragged a thigh over Ren’s half-hard cock. “Do you want to do something about that?”
“No,” Ren answered, nuzzling the back of Sebastian’s neck. “Let’s wait until morning.”
He settled the blankets around them and spooned up against Sebastian. The two of them shifted against each other, both to get comfortable and to enjoy the feeling of skin on skin, Sebastian offering one last suggestive wriggle of his backside against Ren’s cock. “Something to look forward to,” Sebastian murmured, his eyes already closed.
Ren thought he would stay awake a while longer to watch Sebastian’s face and the steady rise and fall of his chest, but he found his own eyes closing and let himself drift to sleep, feeling nothing but warmth and contentment, all the worries of the day and of the future banished from the bed.
The coronation had been arranged quickly in the hopes of quieting the talk that had sprung up with the announcement that the regency was not going to end with Ren at long-last taking the throne, but his aunt. There were so many rumors coming out of the palace — stories of jailbreaks, smugglers and thieves roaming about, Arcadia’s small military briefly involved in a hunt for a fugitive. There was speculation too about Ren’s grandfather’s abrupt decision to retire immediately from public life to go live on his vineyard in the hills outside the city.
Ren had talked with him several times and felt nothing but love for his grandfather, but he also agreed with the new arrangement. It was better to have his grandfather leave the palace with dignity, rather than having his movements discreetly tracked throughout the palace and his access to sensitive matters sharply curtailed. His reasons may have been understandable, but that didn’t mean that trust was restored. There was no desire to prosecute him for his role in the theft of Heart, especially since the loss of the jewel had been kept secret from all but a select few for so long. The old man was content that his daughter could rule now with more freedom than past monarchs and that she would not be tempted to lose herself in the memories contained within the Heart.
As hasty as the preparations were, that didn’t mean the celebration was going to be any less grand. It was the first coronation in Arcadia’s history that wasn’t tinged with sorrow over the recent death of the last monarch, and people wanted to have a party.
The streets of the city were draped with banners, the colors bright against the white buildings. Red leaves from the trees and dark green grape leaves were woven into garlands that people wore or tossed into the air as they paraded into the wide square in front of the tall palace. Many carried long, flexible poles with birds made out of white cloth on the ends — meant to echo Arcadia’s flocks of cranes — and sent them swooping and diving over the heads of the crowd.
From the raised platform where he sat with his family, Ren watched the square fill, with many more people spilling into the streets around it, and took a steadying breath. He hated speaking in public, and it didn’t get much more public than this. His was one speech among many, but it was the one before his aunt spoke for the first time as the new monarch, and Ren knew that many people would be watching him carefully, trying to judge his mood at being passed over for the throne. Ren had to make it clear that he had willingly stepped aside or his aunt’s reign would be off to a difficult start.
Various cousins spoke, mostly on the theme of Arcadia’s history and their family’s importance, while a few prominent citizens and ambassadors from other Commonwealth members joined in with speeches of goodwill. Ren’s father had been gently dissuaded from taking part. He was a popular orator at funerals and dedications — with the understanding that he would speak for triple the suggested time. He was at Ren’s side, ostensibly for support but more likely because Ren had such a prominent position on the platform. He squeezed his son’s shoulders and beamed out at the crowd.
One demand Ren had made was that the crew of The Wayward Prince also be on the platform. Very few people knew why, so they were getting a lot of speculative looks — and then judgmental stares as they gleefully decimated the refreshment table set out for the dignitaries. Still, Ren was grateful for their presence, especially whenever he was able to catch Sebastian’s eye.
His name was announced to applause and a loud buzz of talk. Ren stood — he would have very much liked to bolt from the stage, but instead he cast one more look toward Sebastian. He winked at Ren and nodded, and Ren managed to find a smile as he walked to the podium and stared out at the crowd. Thousands stared back.
A large holo of his head and shoulders was projected above the square in front of the palace entrance and beamed out to other parts of the city and countryside. Small drones with embedded speakers amplified his voice so that no one would miss any pause or stumble. Text scrolled beneath his image so that those who could not hear could still read what he had to say. There was no hiding now, and Ren squared his shoulders and began to speak.
The speech had been carefully prepared and rehearsed until he could recite it without notes. It had helped that Sebastian had insisted that Ren practice yesterday in front of a mirror and then went to his knees before him. He hadn’t let Ren come until he got through it three times, though the last had definitely been rushed. Ren let the memory of that carry him through the initial terror, until he got lost in the familiar recitation. He didn’t stumble, but as he heard his words he realized that the speech itself was a bit dull.
It was mostly about his support for his aunt and praising her years as regent. He warmed a little when talking about his late mother, but for the most part it was very safe and proper. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Simi stifling a yawn.
Ren paused, not because he had lost his place, but because he looked at the people watching him. Not as a large blurred crowd, but actual faces. Some were familiar, others not, most too far away to make out, but they were individuals with their own questions and hopes for the future.
“Many have asked why the new monarch has chosen not to wear the jewel we call the Heart of Arcadia,” he said, though that was definitely not in his speech, and all the meetings in preparation had emphasized that no one was to bring it up at all. “It has been a part of the monarchy for generations. But its only value is in what it represents. It is my family’s history, our tradition, our sacrifice — but it does not represent all of this world’s potential. You, the people, are the true Heart of Arcadia. It is your voices that should guide the monarchy. And if my aunt is laying aside that old symbol, it is only so that she can better listen to what you have to say. Together we can build a future that is greater than any story of the past.”
Ren stopped talking because he couldn’t think of what else to say and wasn’t sure where he was supposed to be in his memorized speech. But, as soon as he paused, there was an eruption of wild cheers from the square and louder echoes from beyond. He smiled nervously and stepped back, his aunt rising gracefully to embrace him.
“Of all the times to develop a talent for oratory,” she whispered in his ear, her voice fond rather than critical, “right before I’m supposed to speak.”
Ren started to go back to his chair but turned at the last second to go and stand with the crew. His father glared, and his cousins raised eyebrows, but Mags pressed a glass of wine into his shaky hands, Lydia patted his shoulder, and Sebastian’s arm slipped around his waist. Ren was finally able to relax.
His aunt’s speech ended up being largely improvised, taking up the theme of the Heart and expanding upon Ren’s hasty thoughts with skill and passion. She had plans, Ren knew, about easing the dependence on the royal family in running the infrastructure of the planet, even reducing the power of the monarchy, and while she didn’t lay out all this now, she hinted at all the things to come.
There were louder cheers and music and fireworks, and then, finally, they were able to get off that damned platform, though Ren realized, holding Sebastian’s hand as they made their way back into the palace, that it was the first public event he’d actually almost enjoyed.