Despite Tivona’s neat-freak tendencies, she was a genuine friend and by far the best roommate I’d ever had, mainly because we didn’t see each other all that often, not even at Kent Corp, where we both worked. Having an in-person conversation with her was a rare treat, rather than an everyday chore.
Tivona poured the chocolate espresso into an oversize mug, then plopped down on the other end of the sofa. She plucked the remote from the end table on her side of the room and hit a button, causing the holoscreen embedded in the opposite wall to flare to life. She yawned and took a sip of her espresso, while her favorite gossipcast played on the screen.
“And now we bring you the latest in the ongoing conflict between the Imperium and the Techwave . . .” The gossipcaster’s voice droned on and on, delivering yet another variation of a story I’d heard a hundred times before.
The Imperium, led by Lord Callus Holloway, who was supported by the other noble families, collectively called the Regals, was one of the major ruling forces in the Archipelago Galaxy, along with the slightly less powerful Techwave and the Erzton. Each group controlled and focused on a different area. The Imperium dealt in magic, genetics, and bloodlines, while the Techwave eschewed such arcane things in favor of cutting-edge technology, experiments, and weapons. The Erzton maintained a neutral stance, selling minerals, wood, and other raw materials to both the Imperium and the Techwave, as well as to other wealthy organizations and individuals. Basically, the three groups boiled down to magic, tech, and minerals, although they would all happily use whatever they could get their hands on to acquire more wealth, weapons, power, and resources.
The Imperium and the Techwave had been at odds for years, but lately, hostilities had increased to unprecedented levels, with the Techwavers attacking several Regal-owned corporations and stealing everything they could. Supposedly, the Techwavers—or Techies, as they were sometimes called—wanted to make personal enhancements, military-grade weapons, and other advanced technology available to everyone and thus level the playing field between the magic-wielding Regals and the common folks. But really, the Techwave just wanted to rule the galaxy the way Callus Holloway had for the last thirty years.
I had little love for the Imperium and even less for the Regals with their self-important Houses, esoteric societal rules, and unrelenting determination to value magic, alliances, and bloodlines above all else, but at least they maintained some semblance of law, order, and freedom. Unlike the Techwavers, who were little more than terrorists who just took what they wanted and left death and destruction behind in their wake.
Like on Temperate 33.
Two months ago, the Velorum space cruiser had crashed shortly after takeoff on its maiden flight, killing everyone on board, as well as hundreds of additional people on the ground in the spaceport below. I’d been one of dozens of lab rats sent to investigate the ship’s smoldering remains. A group of Techwavers had used the chaos of the crash and its aftermath to break into Kent Corp offices on Temperate 33, steal info on the company’s new line of weapons, and blow several buildings to smithereens.
For a group that supposedly wanted to make things better for everyone, the Techwavers hadn’t cared whom they hurt as long as they got what they wanted. Greedy bastards. Then again, someone was always rebelling against someone else in the galaxy.
“The fighting is getting extremely intense on Magma 7, where the Techwave commandeered a large metal refinery three days ago,” the gossipcaster droned on. “The Imperium has taken heavy casualties trying to regain control of the facility. Another attack is expected to begin later today, with Imperium soldiers hoping to finally root out the Techwavers from their fortified position inside the refinery . . .”
In other words, both sides were going to lay waste to the refinery, then retreat to lick their wounds. Something else that was not surprising.
“And now, on to more pleasant matters: the spring ball being held later this week on Corios.”
Tivona squealed with delight. “Finally!”
Like many folks, Tivona followed the Regals’ exploits with great interest, especially when it came to their lavish parties on Corios, their home planet. Whereas I did my best to tune out the incessant gossipcasts, which always reminded me of how I had been tossed aside and twinged my childhood heartache like a finger poking into a deep bruise.
The gossipcaster grinned at the camera, showing off her blindingly white teeth. “The spring ball is one of the most anticipated events of the social season, with several engagements expected to be announced during the event. Some anonymous sources claim one of those announcements will involve Kyrion Caldaren, the current leader of the Arrows, the Imperium’s elite fighting force.”
The feed cut away from the gossipcaster to show a shadowy figure dressed in dark clothes stalking through a smoke-filled hallway on some spaceship. A dark helmet covered his head, so I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to. Just the man’s tall, imposing silhouette, as well as the glowing stormsword in his hand, was enough to strike fear into the heart of anyone with even a modicum of common sense.
Tivona let out another fangirl squeal of delight, completely enraptured by the image on the screen. Well, at least this gossipcast was about someone I had never met, making it far less annoying than most.
“Kyrion Caldaren is the son of the late Lord Chauncey Caldaren and his wife, Lady Desdemona,” the gossipcaster continued, as if everyone didn’t already know exactly who he was. “He is also the current head of House Caldaren and thus in control of the substantial Caldaren fortune. More than one Regal lord and lady has tried to catch Kyrion’s eye over the years, although, so far, he has resisted all attempts to be caught. Perhaps someone will be lucky enough to finally snare him at the ball.”
The gossipcaster chuckled and winked at the camera, as though Kyrion Caldaren was a fat trout just waiting to be plucked out of an aquafarm pool.
I rolled my eyes. “As if anyone in their right mind would want to be engaged, much less wed, to the most notorious killer in the galaxy. C’mon. The man supposedly murdered his own father when he was a teenager just so he could take control of their House.”
Tivona flapped her hand at me, never taking her eyes off the screen. “Shush!”
The gossipcaster kept extolling the many supposed virtues of Kyrion Caldaren, while glossing over the fact that the Arrows were among the deadliest warriors in the galaxy and that their main objective was to systematically eliminate Callus Holloway’s many enemies. Something Kyrion Caldaren had done more than once if the rumors were true.
But among the Regals, Kyrion Caldaren was quite the catch, and this wasn’t the first program speculating about whom he might eventually wed, even if he wasn’t bonded to the person. Then again, he was rich enough to induce any kind of chembond he wanted for as long as he desired. Such things were common among the Regals, especially since truebonds were so rare, even among the nobility’s psions, seers, spelltechs, siphons, and other wielders of magic.
My mother’s voice snaked through my mind. I should be back on Corios. I should be part of the Regals, not rotting away on a useless planet trapped in a useless life with an utterly useless child.
Pain spiked through my heart like a drill punching through a sheet of steel. I grimaced, wishing I could forget that conversation, which was among the last things my mother, Nerezza, had said to her cousin Liesl, whom we’d been staying with at the time. But perfect recall was part of my seer magic, at least when it came to all the horrible things that had happened in my life—especially my mother’s abandonment. Nerezza had left when I was seven, and even now, thirty years later, I could still hear her harsh tone as clearly and vividly as though she had uttered the words a moment ago.