Page 16 of Dark Reign

Father exhaled sharply. “Give me the details.”

William piped up. “One donor. Female. Age six. Sources say she was snatched right from her room, kicking and screaming, begging for help as the savages stole her from the comfort of her own bed. It’s likely she’ll be dead within a week if we’re unable to locate her.”

“Ofcourseshe will be.” A long, frustrated breath left my father’s mouth. “I don’t know what these swine aim to prove. They lack the means to care for the property they steal, so why bother? While they may feel they’re saving them from something, they’re essentially sentencing their own people to death—from exposure, starvation. At least in our care, their basic needs are met in exchange for services rendered.”

I continued to listen but scanned the elaborate accommodations while the conversation continued. Following the speech, there were always refreshments backstage. Hanging above tables of expensive wine, caviar, and a rare selection of blood imported from halfway around the world, there was signage in our nations colors—red and white—boasting our family name in bold letters.

I tuned into a news broadcast as I was driven here this evening. It touched on my announcement that I’d accepted my birthright to serve as the next Presiding Emperor. The reporters expressed how excited the people were to hear that the Westower legacy would continue with my reign, but they had no way of knowing the decision had been bittersweet. It was a choice to give up some of myself, nearly all rights to privacy, the right to choose my own path, but I’d come to terms with it soon enough. My parents assured me of that.

Just the other day, Mother hinted toward certain social demands the people placed on whomever bore the crown, expectations she cautioned me and the others to heed if we intended to stay in the people’s good graces. For starters, having wives was not only required, it would apparently make us all appear more stable, would show we intended to one day produce heirs to follow our lead. However, I dismissed the notion quickly, appeasing her with a kiss to the cheek and a reminder that my tight schedule left little time to scour the Earth for‘the one’.

The traditionalism was stifling.

“How did they escape? Do we have any further evidence of their immunity to compulsion?” were my father’s next questions to William, and I gave their conversation my full attention once again.

“According to the responding sentinels, the offender entered and exited through a window. And as far as the compulsion, there was no one on the staff from the North Quadrant to test the theory, but it wouldn’t have mattered,” William concluded. “From the rendition of the story I was told, no one even got close enough to the intruder to try.”

Frustration marked my father’s expression. “Make a note, from this point forward, all facilities are required to have at least one Ianite on site from all four quadrants. With our combined abilities, the chances of capturing these thieves can only increase.”

“Understood,” William replied.

“And I’ll just assume there’s no footage to prove it wasn’t …her?”was my father’s next question.

Without mentioning the name Blackbird,I knew she was the ‘her’to which he referred. The only‘her’I’d known to get so deep under his skin, that he often let his trademarked imperturbable demeanor slip just at the thought of what she cost him—credibility, some measure of the people’s trust.

“If we can prove this was the work of someone else,” he continued, “it would be a step in the right direction. The media doesn’t realize the power they’ve given that menace. Every time fingers point toward her, crediting her with any and all successful heists, it undermines our authority, making it appear that we’re repeatedly outsmarted by this … child.”

It was less a matter of appearances, and more a matter of fact. Blackbirdhadsuccessfully executed numerous heists, andhadevaded capture. But I wasn’t going to point that out to him.

Nervous, William swallowed audibly, and I hid my smirk.

“Well, Your Highness, there’s been no evidence to prove or disprove her involvement, but I’m sure I can dig something up if you’d like.”

My father exhaled, shaking his head dismissively. “That won’t be necessary. There are enough positives to offset the negatives, I suppose. All in all, tonight’s presentation should be well-balanced, a healthy blend of optimism and realism.”

William nodded in agreement. “Most definitely. I imagine the stipend increase alone will earn you high marks, sir.”

“I’m sure.”

The hard expression my father donned at the mention of the stipend said more than the short response he uttered.

As his self-professed confidant, there were certain concerns he shared with me in private, thoughts he’d never disclose to another. For example, I knew the increased stipend had little to do with a sudden spike of generosity. It was an attempt to remedy a recent surge in Ianite births in the last few years.

The Stipend Initiative was enacted around the fifteenth year of Dr. Percival’s Hierarchy Reform Campaign. The ability for Ianites to live forever created an issue where overpopulation was concerned. To delay, or possibly eliminate, the inevitable global shortage of resources, he proposed offering a sizable, yearly stipend for those who swore to refrain from reproduction. The flaw in this theory was that, now, a large number of them were wealthy, so the stipend was merely a drop in the bucket.

For the most part, the initiative had been a great success. The monarchy had only ever seen the need for small increases over the centuries. However, three of the five increases had taken place during the last fifty years of my father’s reign. In his eyes, this was yet another blemish on his legacy, one he sought to end by offering an unprecedented hike, with hopes of appealing to a greater mass of the population.

The hint of familiar perfume alerted me to my mother’s arrival before my gaze landed on her, a vision of loveliness as always. Her wrist sparkled when the overhead lights danced over a diamond bracelet I didn’t recognize, another of my father’s expensive gifts, I presumed.

She pressed a kiss to both my cheeks, careful not to smudge her lipstick. Nestled into her elaborate, signature updo sat a dainty, onyx tiara. Had it not been for the red rubies mounted in the arches, it might have blended into the inky blackness of her hair completely.

“Good evening, Mother,” I greeted, taking her hand as I offered a shallow bow.

A warm smile passed over me, but she didn’t get the chance to respond when a chipper voice swooped in from the left.

“Three minutes, Your Highness.”

The warning had come from another aide, Jenna. She kept a brisk pace while carefully balancing a flawless crown atop a velvet pillow. It matched my mothers in style, but dwarfed it in size. It, too, was adorned with red gemstones, glistening like new after a fresh polish.

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