Chapter 26
Eyes fly wide all around me and several people gasp.
Inara grabs my shoulder and whispers in my ear. “That’s a significant and very public allegation.”
Her heart rate speeds up, and I smell her perspiration. Whether I’ve panicked Inara or not, I won’t retract my claim.
“It’s true.” I feel it in my bones. Judica killed our mom because she couldn’t stand the thought of me becoming Empress instead of her. Maybe Mom even told her about her plans in a misguided attempt to prepare her.
The irony is that Judica didn’t have to do it. I didn’t have any desire to rule over this pack of jackals.
Inara whispers, “Be that as it may, you might have waited to talk to me about what proof we might find before shouting it in front of enemies and friends alike.”
“I’m sorry,” I say flatly.
But I’m not, not really. I’m destroyed, I’m broken, I’m livid, I’m scared. I am full to the brim with feelings right now, but not a single one of them is apologetic.
Judica stares the members of the murmuring crowd down one at a time. “My sister has named me mother slayer. It isn’t true. I loved my mother, and I would never have harmed her. But, it doesn’t really matter either way, does it?” She speaks slowly and her words dispel the fog that has settled into my brain.
She’s right.
It’s awful, it’s horrible, and it’s every kind of hideous, but she’s right. Even if she killed my mom, it doesn’t make a bit of difference. She’s the Heir. For six thousand years, two categories of people have had the right, by law, to kill an empress. Another empress as an act of war, or the empress’s own heir. Judica, as the Heir, had a right to do it. It was a law put in place to ensure that if a monarch fell ill or was incapable of governing, the parts of the world she controlled wouldn’t languish. Which means my allegation is meaningless.
I watch, numb, as Judica bridges the gap that separates her from Mom’s body. She leans over and presses a kiss to Mom’s forehead, and then she leans forward and pulls the sparkling ring from Mom’s finger. It slides off easily, without any pulling or yanking.
Judica holds it up over her head and proclaims, “I’m Heir to Alamecha by right as the youngest female of the royal line, and by record Mother made eight years ago. I hereby take my place as Empress of the First Family.” The ring sparkles briefly in the sunlight, the colors reflecting from it and filling the room with tiny lights. When Judica shoves it on her finger, the whole room sighs, because it’s done. The murderess has taken control. Heaven help us all, but me more than anyone else.
Before anyone can speak, Job steps forward. “I’m sorry to interrupt at such a critical time, and I tried to tell Chancery this before, but technically Judica may not be the Heir.”
Judica drops her hand. “What?”
Job ducks his eyes and shuffles his feet. “I attended to your mother in her last moments, and she was quite clear and very lucid when she told me that she revoked Judica as Heir and named Chancery in her place. She said it several times. I’m sure the other people present heard it too.” Job glances around him, and several heads nod in affirmation. “So you see, if Chancery has evidence that Judica poisoned Enora... there may be sufficient cause for a trial.”
Judica looks stricken, but not ready to admit defeat. “She can’t just name a new Heir. It doesn’t work like that.”
Inara clears her throat. “She cannot, not when the Heir has been declared in a formal document witnessed and sealed by her Council.” Inara gestures to Mom’s chamberlain and whispers, “Larena, bring the Charter. I hate that Alamecha’s family business is being handled publicly, but there’s no way around it now.”
Silence like a blanket shrouds the masses gathered while Mom’s willowy chamberlain crosses the room, the thick folds of her canary yellow silk gown swishing as she walks quickly toward the exit. Once she’s gone, people shift and murmur in tones so low that even other evians can’t make out their words. Moments later when Larena returns, even those whisperings die off. Inara shoves hors d’oeuvres and silver dishes out of the way on an ornate serving table near the end of the room, and Larena plonks a solid wooden box with the Alamecha family crest carved on the lid onto the cleared space.
Judica and I move toward her, everything happening in slow motion. We stand in a loose semicircle around Inara as she opens the box.
She pulls a stack of yellowed papers from it. The Alamecha Charter.
“How’s this going to help us?” I whisper.
“It’s not the Charter Judica needs,” Inara says. “It’s the Declaration of Heirship.”
“Right,” Judica says. “It sits just below the Charter.”
Larena clucks. We all lean over the box and look down to the space below. A sheaf of thick white paper lies in the bottom of the box. Larena lifts it up and reads aloud. “Before us this day, the representative heads of the Council of Alamecha attest that one Enora Isadora Alamecha has declared her intention to name an heir. Having given birth to two daughters on the same day, she desires to eliminate all confusion that may result from the event of her death. Enora Isadora Alamecha names her daughter, Chancery Divinity Alamecha to rule the First Family of Eve, as Empress and Queen of all the lands and properties hereby appurtenant. Lest any should contest this statement, the below listed members of her Council set their hand to testify to the truth and veracity of this declaration.”
Judica states the obvious. “It’s not signed.”
“Not by the Council,” Inara agrees, “but Mom signed it.”
When would she have had time? She must have known something was wrong and rushed to get it done this morning. It must have been where she went after breakfast. But it’s not enough.
“Between the destruction of the prior documents, this partially executed one, and the statement to Job in front of witnesses,” Inara says, “I imagine the rest of the Council will agree with me. Chancery is the Heir.”
Can Judica actually be tried for what she did?
“Mother was sick and lost her mind.” The words emerge as the barest of whispers. Judica closes her eyes and for the first time ever, she looks wounded, pained even. When she speaks again, it’s even softer. “Oh Mother, why?”
I’m torn in two. I want nothing to do with ruling Alamecha. Judica can choke on it for all I care, but the only way to make Judica pay for killing Mom is to become Empress and convene a court. If I abdicate, then Judica becomes Empress and that possibility evaporates. We’ll never really know whether she killed our mom, or even if we do find out, we won’t be able to do anything about it.
The only way to make Judica pay is to become Empress myself.
As if she can read my mind, Judica says, “I did not kill her.” She grits her teeth. “But I almost don’t regret her death. She was obviously making bad decisions. She lacked the capacity to make such an Heirship change.” She picks up the new document and looks it over with disgust.
“Curious.” Adika Shenoah, the current Empress of the Sixth family has slunk so close that her heart pounds steadily right next to me. “One twin challenges the paperwork executed by her own mother this morning, and the other accuses the displaced heir of murder. I’m delighted I didn’t send Vela in my place. I’d have missed all this fun.” Adika’s teeth gleam brightly against her deep brown skin, and a chill slides down my spine. The predators sense our weakness and are circling. The worst part is that we invited them into our home to witness this devastation.