Chapter 59: Hospitality

"We have to help them!"

Stephan heaved a deep sigh.

Chloe grabbed his arm and pulled. After a moment's resistance, he let her turn him around and met her eyes.

"We have," she repeated, fighting to calm her voice, to sound reasonable, "to help them."

"You know that can't happen, Highness." Stephan slid his arm from her grasp and clasped both her shaking hands in his. "If anything, this should demonstrate to you just how futile it would be to oppose the Senate at this point. The Oligarchs possessed far more resources than we, yet their rebellion collapsed in – what? A year? Less?"

"But that's war," Chloe said. "I'm not talking about attacking Etemenos. I'm talking about rescuing my dad."

"Exactly what the Senate wants you to attempt," Stephan said. "I can only assume President Ferrill broadcast that message to bait a trap for you."

Chloe gazed up at Stephan's sad smile, deep into his stratosphere-blue eyes.

Saw no sadness in the latter.

"If President Ferrill wanted to bait me to Etemenos," Chloe said, "she succeeded. All I want to know is, will you help me save my dad, or not?"

"Highness, be reasonable –"

"You be reasonable," she snapped. "I came here because you promised you'd teach me to use my powers. Powers I could use to rescue my parents. Remember?"

"Obviously, those were our original intentions. At a time when we didn't know where to begin looking for your parents and human space seemed on the brink of a genuine second civil war, they seemed entirely reasonable. The situation, as you can surely see, has changed. I'm sorry, Highness, but we have to recognize our limitations."

Chloe wanted to slap him. She would have, if his long fingers hadn't clasped hers in gentle, steepled steel.

"Why?" she asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Why does President Ferrill want to trap me?"

"Because your power is an affront to her rhetoric of equality and a threat to her control."

"Because she's afraid of me," Chloe said.

"If you want to look at it that way."

"Maybe you should ask yourself, Stephan: since you're obviously terrified about going up against someone scared of me, why aren't you even more scared of the person who terrifies her?"

Stephan's smile vanished. "I am afraid for the future of the aristocracy –"

"And I could care less about it."

Stephan's grip tightened. "Highness, Chloe, you don't mean that."

"Think so? I came here to get help, not give it, though I didn't mind reciprocating. So. Where's the reciprocity? You promised you'd train me so I could save my parents. All you've done is preach at me and show me parlor tricks! I've seen you throw waves of killing light. You haven't taught me to light a candle. I've seen you compress space with your mind and cross the stars. You haven't taught me to move a piece of paper."

"Without the proper groundwork," Stephan said, "someone with your power would be endangering herself and others."

"You're lying."

"You claim I haven't taught you anything, but you can apparently read my mind?"

"I can read your face, Stephan," Chloe said. "I know it's a revelation to you, but I'm not stupid. I'm not naive, either, or at least not half as much as you think."

"I don't think you're either of those," Stephan said gently. "Only inexperienced, and emotional, and traumatized by what the Federal Senate has put you through."

"Stop patronizing me, then," Chloe said.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"I'm trying to be kind."

"You sure could have fooled me. From where I'm standing, it looks like you'd like to slap me – if you weren't afraid you wouldn't be able to sire your imperial dynasty on me."

From the tension she could feel in Stephan's arms, she wondered if he'd slap her anyway.

She almost hoped he would. Until she spoke it aloud, she hadn't been willing to confront what his motive had to be. How else to explain the conspicuous absence of other nobles – nothing like any description of the close-knit aristocratic outcasts she'd ever heard? His paltry, half-hearted training sessions – nothing like techniques that would free her from dependence on him?

"That," Stephan said, "is not true. I do harbor some hope of capturing your affections, but far more serious concerns would stay any blow I might think to offer."

"Go ahead and take a swing," she said. "You've got nothing to lose trying, though I can't promise you'll hit."

"It is not my custom," Stephan said, "to strike a lady. Still less my Empress. It would be treason."

"I am not your Principle-accursed Empress," Chloe snapped. "I'm not Chloe Astroykos. I'm Chloe Hughes, and my father is going to be executed, and I will save him or die trying."

"You will do nothing of the sort. The future of the aristocracy, of the whole galaxy, rests on your shoulders. And on mine, as you are proving yourself unfit to exercise such judgment as falls to you."

"Who made that your decision? I don't see a House of Lords assembled here to crown me, even if I wanted a crown. Seems like you're the only aristocrat whose future you want to secure."

"Obviously, I look to my own first and foremost. Considering the importance you put on your adoptive family, I would think you would understand that."

"Then we've got one thing in common, at least." Chloe twisted her hands from his grip.

"Where do you think you're going?" Stephan asked.

"To Etemenos," Chloe said. "Alone or with your help."

"Highness, I understand that you are distraught over your adoptive father –"

"He is my father."

"Of course." Stephan spread his hands. "As I was saying, I understand your distress, but try to think things through. Would he want you to imperil yourself? I'm sure he would want you safe, yes?"

"He would," Chloe said. "And if he were here right now and told me I had to let him go to his death, I'd... I'd cry and grab his sleeve and beg him not to, but I'd do what he said."

Stephan nodded sympathetically. His veneer completely recovered in just seconds, he looked and sounded the picture of the concerned friend or distant relation. He said, "Then permit me to say it in his place."

"There are two big differences," Chloe said.

"And those are?"

"First, my dad would say it because he loves me and wants the best for me, not because he wanted something for himself."

"As I explained, that is not –"

"Second," Chloe continued, refusing to let him snake his web of words around her again, "Not only do I love my dad, I also respect him."

Stephan slowly closed his mouth. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, stretched his fingers.

He said, "Are you quite finished, Your Highness?"

"I've got nothing more to say," Chloe said. "Except, 'stop calling me that.'"

"You render your position transparent. Yet, you remain 'Your Highness' by accident of blood, whether you like it or not. Whether either of us do."

"Does that mean you'll help me save my dad whether you like it or not, or should I start packing for Etemenos?"

"It means, Your Highness, that I will help you." He smirked down at her. "For a price."

Never let them seem you sweat, Chloe recalled. "Name it."

"You deduce my motives correctly. I would be father to the next Astroykos emperor – the first Kyrillos emperor." Stephan swept his open palm out as though asking her to dance, but the motion seemed stiff, forced. His anger seethed with almost palatable force. "If I condescend to assist in rescuing the Oligarchical lackey you call 'father,' you, Your Highness, will condescend to call me 'husband.'"

Chloe stared at his outstretched fingers.

Stephan was not an unhandsome man, not without charm when he bothered to use it. Nor, when she came down to it, even without a valid position. Why shouldn't he look to his own first? Didn't she?

Yes, he could be cruel. He lied. He schemed. Why not? He was a partisan fighting a war fifteen years lost. It wasn't fair to blame him for his methods or even his character, though both seemed a far cry from the chivalry she'd admired in stories of the nobles of the Civil War.

Besides, he was the only person who had even a slim chance of helping her save her father. Who else would she turn to? Rudy? How could she ever trust him with anything again, much less her parents' lives?

Yet...

She imagined Stephan victorious. She imagined a reunion with her parents. She saw tears of joy and warm embraces and warmer smiles. Home, not a place or a ship, but the people she loved and who loved her.

Stephan Kyrillos was not among that group. He never would be.

In her mind's eye, Chloe saw the happiness drain from her family's tears. She saw them cry themselves to sleep knowing she'd sold her life to buy theirs.

She met Stephan's gaze. "If that is your offer, Lord Kyrillos..."

He cocked an eyebrow expectantly.

"... then I'm afraid I'll be taking my leave of your hospitality."