“Wait!” Emell came running out of the house. “I must say goodbye, my daughter. This is a big opportunity for us. Through hard work and determination, you’ve been accepted to train under the Grucken. We won’t see each other for a long time. Are you prepared?”
“Yes, Mama.” Lordin nodded obediently. “I remember all your teachings. I will advance up the ranks until I’ve gained a reputation among the nobility of Geniverd.”
“And you’ll do this by publicizing your ascension through social media,” Emell said. “Your story will rivet the masses. You’ll be an inspiration to everyone who aspires to be more than a simple commoner. But above all …”
“Keep my identity a secret,” Lordin said. “I know, Mama. I can’t let anyone know who I am. As far as the public is concerned, I am a nobody from Gaard. I am proficient in Decens-Lenitas, and through the Grucken’s teachings, I will become revered.”
“Exactly,” Emell said. “We are not like the other upper-class dolts. Remember our hatred for the king and queen, for the rulers of Gaard. We work to destroy them. We must use Decens-Lenitas to our advantage, disguise our intent, and rise until we’ve taken over the throne. I am trusting you, daughter. I entrust you with my vengeance.”
“I won’t let you down,” Lordin said. “I will mask my intent, cover the secret of my heart, and one day—”
“Topple the king and queen, and seize power!” Emell said, fist raised to the winter sky. She looked mad even then, bent on domination and ruin.
Lordin hugged her mama goodbye and boarded the flyrarc. She sat by the window and watched as they ascended above Gaard’s northern Gilfoil Mountains, looking down at the rural estate Emell had been banished to all those years ago, a small outpost amid the frozen wilderness. Lordin looked down at Emell and smiled to herself.
And then she was gone, soaring over the rolling hills of snow to meet the Grucken.
Lordin peeked through the stage curtain. It was a full house. The Grucken was onstage, giving his address to a batch of newly anointed Aska warriors. Jaken and Raad were among them, and in the front row of the crowd was Zawne.
“This is it,” Emell said. She rubbed her hands together. There was no one except her and Lordin backstage during the Grucken’s speech. “This is your chance to shine, daughter. All these years with the Grucken, and finally some face time in front of the nobility. And just at the right moment. I’ve begun acquiring small chemical companies and medicine manufacturers. I’m in negotiations with a lab technician and a gene specialist to begin preparation of the virus. No one has any clue what they’re participating in. They think it’s research.”
“That’s nice,” Lordin said. “You’ve worked hard.”
Emell scoffed, “Harder than you know, child. Anyway, who do you see out there in the crowd?”
“A lot of people,” Lordin said. She was older than in the last memory, a beautiful young woman ripe in all the right places. “I see Prince Zawne, Heir Shirpo of Surrvul, Heir Raad of Gaard, Heir Zolo of Krug. There must be ten male heirs in the front row.”
“And each for your taking,” Emell said, still rubbing her palms deviously. “I suggest you focus on Zawne. He’s ambitious, like his pigheaded papa. With Zawne, you might have a chance at the top. Even Jaken is a good choice, yet he is an Aska and strong willed. Zawne will be easier to control. The truth is, daughter, either of the king’s children will do nicely. I want the former queen and the former king to feel pain beyond this world when we dispose of one of their sons. Then you will be on the throne with me by your side. They will grow sick from despair!”
“Yes, Mama.”
Lordin still peeked through the curtain, her eyes on Zawne. Anyone could have seen his potential, his positive energy. No one would have suspected a hardened Aska warrior would grow out of him, then later a king.
Lordin was at Lithern Shrine, Zawne propelling himself down to her in his modified flyrarc like an action hero.
“You came,” she said. “It’s six in the morning. I wasn’t sure you’d come this early.”
“I couldn’t resist,” said Zawne, a fish-eating grin on his face.
“Now that you’re here,” Lordin said, “let’s take a walk through the gardens and get to know each other.”
The date sped by in blips and flashes, scenes of tea drinking and subtle flirting. Then they were in the hidden room at the back of Lithern Shrine, Lordin caressing the smooth varnish of the Grucken’s piano. “Can you play?” she asked Zawne.
“Oh, yeah. Can you?”
“Yes.” Lordin sat on the stool and lifted the lid of the keyboard. “Shall we compose a song together?”
Zawne beamed. “Yes, an original score that only the two of us will know.” His excitement was palpable. By the glazed look in his eyes, the sparkling affection in Lordin’s face, it was clear the two were already in love.
“I’ll start.” Lordin softly stroked the keys, beginning a gentle melody for Zawne to sing to.
“When I soar, we soar,” he sang, the music trickling through the room.
Then Lordin came in. “I soar; we soar.”
“I never yield; we never yield.”
“We are forever one.”
The music was reaching a crescendo, Lordin’s tiny fingers flittering across the keys as Zawne sang, “I soar; we soar, my love. I never yield; we never yield, my love.”
Lordin stopped playing, and the chamber fell silent. Zawne blinked at her. “Hey, what’d you do that for?”
“The lyrics,” she said. “They’re powerful. How did you think of them?”
“It’s how I imagine we will be in the future,” Zawne said. “Together we will soar above the masses as the rulers of Geniverd. We will never yield for any man or kingdom or army. We will reach the heavens with our power and our love.”
Lordin’s eyes grew wide. “Do you mean
