A soft melody floated into the room, led by a flute, a sad, archaic sound that reached into you and grabbed your soul. A female voice joined the flute, singing a wordless long note.
The air smelled of strange spice.
The melody turned vicious, no longer a beautiful song but a harsh, pained cry, filled with fury. A primal wail coming deep from an anguished heart. The hair on the back of my neck rose.
The Temple attendants entered the throne room. Burgundy dresses the color of old blood clasped their bodies, formed with lengths of diaphanous fabric, gathered and held in place by braided cords that crisscrossed over exposed midriffs and left muscular shoulders and arms bare. Their hair streamed down their backs, unbrushed. Some had painted bright red veins on their faces. Some had dark stripes across their eyes, others wore scaled veils covering only one side of their faces. They stalked into the room, a pack of insane wolves, flashing their teeth and ready to rip their target apart.
It was as if time had folded in on itself and spat out some ancient cult. The true face of the acolytes of Vengeance, mirrors of the souls consumed by their revenge, single-minded, half insane, bound yet unchained, and dreaming of blood and retribution.
The song howled, reaching a crescendo.
The acolytes parted, and Lady Wexyn appeared between them. She wore the same style gown, more elaborate but still ethereal. Snow white at her exposed shoulders, it turned a bright arterial red at the hem, as if she had walked through slaughter. A long, pleated cape rode on her shoulders, dragging five feet behind her on the floor. Bright red eyeliner bled across her eyelids. Her lips were black. A metal headdress crowned her hair, rising in an arc over her head, made with a multitude of long, razor sharp needles. When the supplicants came to the Temple and laid their hearts bare asking for retribution, this is who they saw if their request was accepted.
The Priestess of Revenge walked toward the throne.
Miralitt gripped her ceremonial sword. Oond shuddered in his fishbowl and Sean put his clawed hand onto the glass to steady him. The oomboles shrank from her as she came closer. The people of Behoun couldn’t, because the force field restrained them, but they tried.
Kosandion watched her approach. He must’ve seen her before like this when he’d visited the Temple asking her to join the selection.
On the screens, the crowds of the Dominion roiled like a living sea.
Lady Wexyn took her place. Her acolytes formed up behind her, their eyes wild.
“Let us begin,” Kosandion said.
The throne room went silent.
“People of Behoun,” the Sovereign said. “I judge your candidate guilty of treason. She has acted with your consent. How will you atone for her crime?”
Amphie stared straight ahead as if she hadn’t heard a word.
The leader of the delegation, an older woman, licked her lips. “We no longer recognize the authority of the Dominion.”
The screens blasted outraged roars of the crowds. I muted them.
“So your Senate has already informed me.”
“Even if you bring the entirety of the Dominion’s military, we will stand firm against your tyrannical regime,” the leader announced. “We will defend our liberty to the death!”
Kosandion remained unmoved. “I do not plan to invade Behoun. You have been sequestered, so I will let the Chancellor explain it to you.”
Resven spoke, hammering each word in.
“As of twelve hours ago, all current and future import-export agreements between Behoun companies and the Dominion have been made void. All Dominion aid, including categorical and block grants, revenue sharing, and programs supplementing health care, public education, community development, job training, and environmental conservation, have been canceled. The planetary defenses installed by the Dominion have been mothballed. The in-system defense fleet is on its way to the Behoun jump gate, and upon reaching it, they will return to the Dominion. All Dominion citizens currently residing on Behoun are urged to return home. All Behoun citizens currently residing within the Dominion are to be expelled and must depart for Behoun within the next twelve hours, after which Behoun’s access to all Dominion-controled planetary gates will be revoked.”
Resven took a small pause to let it sink in and continued. “I believe that last item will be of particular interest to you, Senator Kolorea. You will be relieved to know that your youngest daughter’s scholarship has been canceled, and she has been successfully deported to Behoun.”
Kolorea gaped at him. “You can’t do that! The Teplaym Robotics Institute…”
“Is a Dominion educational institution funded by the Dominion federal revenue,” Resven said.
“What about the sports teams?” one of the delegates on Kolorea’s right asked.
Another delegate spun to him. “Sports teams? What about the uranium imports?”
“I am giving Behoun exactly what it requested—no, what in its arrogance, it demanded,” the Sovereign said. “Now, we will return to the matter at hand. How will you atone for your crime?”
“We have an urgent communication from Behoun, Letero,” Orata announced.
The Sovereign nodded. The closest screen blinked, showing the interior of a large chamber with many rows of seats. The chamber was in chaos. Some seats were ripped, some stained and burned. A couple were still smoking. About fifty grim-faced beings, some sislaf, others from a variety of other species, sat in the section directly facing the camera, resolutely ignoring the damage.
A woman in a soot-stained formal robe appeared in front of the camera. “My name is Nelonia Eder. I am the new Speaker of the Behoun Senate.”
“Where is the previous Speaker?” the Sovereign asked.
“He is indisposed and no longer able to perform his duties,” Nelonia said.
Behind her, two sislafs in formal robes dragged a body across the floor, realized they were on camera, reversed course, and dragged it out of view.
“A rebel faction had temporarily taken control of the Behoun Senate and announced Behoun’s secession from the Dominion,” Nelonia said.
Kolorea choked on empty air.
“We regret this unfortunate occurrence. The insurrectionists have been suppressed, and we, as the lawfully elected government, condemn their actions. Behoun has never left the Dominion’s loving embrace and has no desire to do so.” She pounded her fist into her chest. “We pledge our loyalty to the Sovereign!”
The remaining senators rose as one and punched themselves. “Loyalty!”
Amphie’s face was bloodless.
“The Dominion will take your actions into consideration,” Kosandion said.
“Thank you, my Sovereign. May I address citizen Asturra?”
“You may,” the Sovereign said.
“Amphie Asturra,” Nelonia intoned. “You are hereby exiled from Behoun. Should you return, your head will be removed from your body and preserved in the Stronghold of Justice to be used as an example for future generations.”
Nelonia bowed her head and stepped back.
The delegate who was worried about the uranium imports punched his chest. “I pledge my loyalty to the Sovereign!”
Kolorea jerked, as if shocked by a live wire.
“I pledge my loyalty!”
“…Loyalty…”
“…To the Sovereign!”
About half of the delegation pledged their loyalty. The rest remained silent.
“Very well,” the Sovereign said. “The Behoun delegation will be detained and interviewed to ascertain their role in the assassination attempt. Their minor ask will not be granted. Citizen Amphie Asturra, for the crime of attempted murder of the Sovereign I sentence you to exile. You will be remanded to the custody of the Capital Guard, pending your recovery.”