A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [194]
At the height of the celebration, with music playing and dancers twirling, the King stood with his new bride, surrounded by Alexa and Idriss and their youngest daughter Celli, who was speechless with excitement about everything she saw. Their other daughter Sarein seemed flustered because Basil was nowhere near.
Peter called for a moment of silence and made an announcement. “I need a brief rest from all this breathless reveling. If you will excuse me, I wish to take a walk in the MoonStatueGarden with my new family.” He spread his arms benevolently to encompass Alexa, Idriss, Estarra, Celli, and Sarein. “We will rejoin you in less than an hour. Continue your celebrations.”
The people applauded. As he had expected, Basil pushed his way to the forefront, stinging from Peter’s petty joke with the assigned seating. “Allow me to join you, King Peter,” he said, attempting to add false warmth to his frigid voice.
Peter gave him a condescending smile and spoke loudly enough for the celebrants around them to hear. “Come now, Mr. Wenceslas”—he didn’t even use the word Chairman—“go and enjoy the festivities. We won’t bore you with family matters.”
He slipped his arm around Estarra and led them out of the banquet hall. Peter listened to Alexa and Idriss talk happily with their daughter as they stepped into the cool evening air. They went on about butterfly celebrations and Theron trees and very small, parochial concerns, showing little grasp of the overall civilization in the Spiral Arm. Nevertheless, Peter pretended to be fascinated as he walked comfortably beside them.
“We need to get to know each other better, Idriss and Alexa,” he said. “I promise I will do everything I can to make your daughter happy.”
Glancing behind him into the well-lit Palace where Basil still waited, Peter was sure the former Theron rulers would completely misinterpret the satisfied smile he wore on his face.
Basil stood fuming. The forced calm of his expression was so brittle that it might have broken if he’d sneezed. He was sure everyone could see the angry flush on his skin, and he hated his own lack of control.
Sensing the Chairman’s distress, Mr. Pellidor unobtrusively slipped up to him. “Shall I eavesdrop on their conversation, sir? They won’t go out of range of our implanted microphones in the statue garden.”
“No,” Basil said through clenched teeth. “They’re not trying to make plans behind my back. This little spectacle was for my benefit alone.”
He drew a long breath, trying to relax himself. “I’m afraid our handsome young King is getting more and more intractable every day.” Basil waited a moment, looking at the other wedding guests before muttering out of the side of his mouth, “We may have to consider our alternatives.”
101
MAGE-IMPERATOR
The Mage-Imperator controlled every aspect of his Empire…but if he couldn’t control his eldest son, the entire tapestry would unravel. Jora’h‘s insubordination would bring all his work for their great race to utter ruin.
After the Prime Designate had learned the truth about his insignificant human lover, old Cyroc’h was slow to realize that there could be no simple fix, no healing discussion, no resigned acceptance. He had grossly misjudged how much the female had meant to his son.
He could not command Jora’h to understand, and the Prime Designate’s foolish anger could begin to fray all the subtle connections the dying leader needed to secure in his last days of life. Explanations had not convinced his idealistic and love-smitten son that there were grim, unpleasant necessities that only a Mage-Imperator could comprehend.
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