“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m an angry coit,” she said, using an extreme vulgarity for women. “I’ve been angry for thirteen months. And now I have leverage to make my parents see things in a new light. Chi-Qua deserves better. If I can make them intervene on her behalf, will you and her mother go along with it?”
“Chi-Qua used to say your stubbornness was going to bring trouble down upon you someday. She also said you’d probably change the world when it did. I think you believe you have a plan, but reality will be a painful adversary, I fear. I will speak to Chi-Qua’s mother, but I will say nothing to my daughter. If you somehow succeed, we will consider intervention.”
It was as much as Kara might have reasonably expected. He was right on one count: Trouble was about to take a loud, punishing swipe at her. The next step in her plan required more than effective strategy and verbal gymnastics. She needed the sweet kiss of luck.
More specifically, stolen secrets from her brother’s memglass.
Betrayal among the Gentry was, Kara discovered, a matter of context. One family might turn upon another without repercussions if the refinery appeared to benefit the social order. But to betray within the family? Such madness demanded swift retribution, anything from long-term exile to inexplicable “suicide.”
Kara understood the potential outcome when she sat before her parents a few days later. Her initial strategy involved recounting a history of refinery they almost certainly knew then reminding them of the long, unshakeable bond between Kara and Chi-Qua.
“She was more than a friend,” Kara told them. “She filled my heart with love when I was depressed. When the snobbery and elitism at Vox became too much, we relied on each other’s sense of humor to make light of the silliness. We made plans for the future. We wanted to travel beyond Pinchon and see everything Hokkaido offered. We finished each other’s sentences, even without speaking them. If we were blood sisters, we could not have been closer.”
Her father, Perr, cared little for sentiment and appeared distracted as she laid out her case. Her mother, Li-Ann, held a dutiful half-smile and nodded throughout.
“You sound to me like lovers,” Perr said. “In my long experience, those who complete each other’s sentences are romantically entangled. Hmm. Daughter, were you lovers?”
Though Kara sometimes imagined the possibility, she never doubted they were meant for others.
“No, Honorable Father. Though some in school were, as you say, entangled, Chi-Qua and I were platonic, but our bond was unbreakable. So much so, I find myself untethered every day. I have not spoken to her in months, but I’m certain she feels the same emptiness and misdirection. If I could have her back in my life, where I see her from morning to night, I’m sure my wounds will heal. As will hers. Chi-Qua played no part in her family’s disgrace.”
Perr tapped his desk.
“You are asking for intervention. Even if I could orchestrate the maneuver, Chi-Qua would become the property of another house. Asking such a thing of the accusers might beg unwanted questions among those seeking to undermine Syung-Low.”
“Honorable Father, I have read historical accounts where one house made a public proclamation as the accusatory party in order to shield another house from potential retribution. It is considered a noble act. It even leaves the other house indebted to the intervening house. We might gain in stature.”
Perr turned to Li-Ann. “And what do you think of Daughter’s unusual stratagem?”
Mother did not hesitate. “She is, as always, leading with a reckless heart. These precedents you speak of, Daughter, do not account for a post-Collectorate Hokkaido. We no longer live in the shadow of the Chancellory. The great families have few allegiances.”
“I think you’re wrong, Mother. These so-called ‘great families’ have shared concerns. The Freelanders gain strength. They’ll threaten The Lagos and our privilege. The families will look inward to protect each other instead of sacrificing. I believe they will accept an act of intervention without so much as a shrug of the shoulders.”
“Your ideas are interesting,” Perr said, “and not without potential. But any danger from the continent is years away, perhaps even decades. Daughter, the political landscape is too delicate. Your Mother and I deny your request for intervention.”
Kara sensed the futility from the moment she entered her father’s elaborate office, but she pivoted to her mother for one last shot.
“Please, Honorable Mother. You often said how Chi-Qua and I were a shining example of true friendship. When I was thirteen, you confessed to never having a close friend as a child. You said it was your greatest regret. Please, Honorable Mother.”
“Everyone has regrets.” She waved off Kara. “Childhood is over. You have begun your initial training at Nantou, and your career proper will launch within the year. The Baeks’ disgrace is no longer our concern.”
“This is your final word?”
The parents spoke in unison. “It is.”
“Fine.”
Of course, it was anything but. Kara had a final play, the worst option but also the only. She knew they’d never trust her again, but they’d have to concede. The real question was whether they’d bring Lang to account. Her plan worked if they valued secrecy over confrontation. Kara rose from her chair and started to walk away. She wanted them to believe they beat her, even if for a few seconds.
She swung about.
“There was another matter,” she said. “Are you familiar with a synthetic drug called mahali?”
Their confusion showed. “No,” Perr replied. “Should we?”
“Probably not. It doesn’t impact people like us. Usually. It started on the continent a few years back. Nobody knows how. Mostly, it circulated in the worst parts of the cities. Now, it’s making the rounds on Pinchon. A few neighborhoods in Zozo and Umkau. They say it’s becoming popular
