Gegenes

It was late afternoon when Astar deposited Isco in one of the guest suites on the second floor of the Governor’s home. Her home, she had to remind herself, though it never felt quite right. 

After her mother left, when Astar was old enough to remember her existence but too young to retain the details of it, Declan Hautman had thrown himself into his career. Without a mother to stand between her and the rest of the world, Astar was thrust into the spotlight and expected to become a paradigm for Gegenii noblewomen. 

Astar was taught how to weave, how to paint, how to dance, how to properly drape traditional fashions and what accessories were enough and what was too much. She learned to drive a chariot and shoot a bow. She could read ledgers, run numbers, and calculate interests without aid. 

What she couldn’t do was gain her father’s respect.

While that was the kind of thing that bothered a child, Astar was no longer one, and she no longer wanted it. She had given her respect to her father as was expected of children, and he had done nothing to keep it. 

Astar was awarded, accomplished, and when that didn’t gain her father’s attention she tried other tactics. 

Hautman failed to notice any difference. He simply could not be bothered to care, too busy with his schemes. Even when she’d stumble home intoxicated, smashing his antiques, he’d send a servant to tell her to keep the noise down.

Astar started fights, came home late, and when that didn’t work, she tried running off without warning to another region altogether. 

That didn’t go well, but Astar met Kanna.

However, all Hautman noticed when Astar returned was Kanna. The first time Kanna fought, his eyes lit with a wild greed so intense that Astar had to take a step back from him. 

Astar placed a loose hand on the curving wood banister, taking each of the steps to the first floor with care. At the foot of the stairs Manni waited, his hands twined together in front of him. The setting sun cast his white-blonde hair in a warm light, bringing back some of the once golden glow that the years in her father’s service had faded. Manni was Hautman’s personal assistant, and when Astar saw him it was because he had been sent to fetch her.

“Again?” she asked.

Manni nodded. 

This was the second time that Manni had come for Astar in less than a week. 

It was a new record.

Manni held out a hand so Astar could walk before him. She cut through the open foyer, the bright murals that flooded the walls so familiar to her now that the artistry was lost on her, and Manni trailed behind. Her feet slid over the plush rugs, mussing the parallel vacuum marks, and stopped before entering the hall that led to Hautman’s wing. 

Astar turned on her heel then waved her hands at Manni to shoo him away. He frowned but backed up with only the quickest of bows, disappearing into one of the hidden doors that concealed the servants’ paths.

Hautman kept every light in his wing lit, the electricity buzzing in the otherwise quiet air. A sconce bedecked the hall every few feet, and doors to the sitting rooms, each with its own collection, were left ajar. The lights from the rooms cut slashes across the deep navy runner, the golden threads woven into patterns in the deep pile glinting in the artificial glare.

At the end of the hall, Astar paused. She held up a clenched fist to knock, but changed her mind and entered her father’s study.

The study was one of the larger rooms in the home, save for the dining hall. There were sets of furniture in three different seating positions and still room enough for the overly large, solid wood desk. 

It would dwarf a smaller man, but Hautman was Gegenii. He was proud of his heritage, and at least that was something that Astar could relate to.

There was nothing else alike about them, and the rift between them had become more obvious to Astar since Kanna’s arrival. Sometimes, she wondered how she had never noticed the wrongness in his smile or the emptiness of his every gesture.

He looked up with a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Behind them, Astar could see his mind working. When he recognized that it was just her, the practiced smile slipped ever so slightly but didn’t fall. 

“Daughter.” 

Hautman placed his hands on his desk, using them to leverage himself to standing. 

Astar stayed in her place, her hands at her sides.

“You wished to see me?”

Hautman nodded, stopping at the small bar in his office. It was a dainty thing, in comparison to him. He righted two glasses, then removed the stopper from a crystal decanter.

“I wanted to be sure that we were clear on some things regarding tomorrow’s dinner.”

He tilted the decanter, pouring one portion of honeyed brandy smaller than the other. He replaced the stopper on the decanter before waving to one of the sitting areas.

Astar could have stayed standing. She told herself she didn’t need to move, that there was no reason for her to sit, but she followed his gesture. Still, she did not sink into the plush armchair so much as perch upon it.

Hautman brought the glasses over, offering the smaller portion to her, and Astar was aware of how bare her feet were. She crossed one over the other and pulled them tight against the chair as Hautman settled across from her.

Astar lifted the drink and inhaled. It was smokey, with a hint of cedar and elderberry. “Did you want something formal?”

“Yes,” Hautman answered. He lifted his own drink in the same manner, then sipped from it before relaxing his hand on the chair’s arm. “I will need you to make the Harbinger presentable.”

Without taking a drink, Astar leaned over and placed her glass on the low table between them.

“What about her isn’t presentable?”

Hautman laughed, the corners of his eyes wrinkling together. 

“You’ve seen her,” he said, “she is like a wild thing.”

Astar moved back, sitting upright once more. “I thought that was her appeal.”

“In the Theatre, certainly.” Hautman shook his head, amused by Astar’s simplicity. “Not in the company one of the Cardea.”

Astar tried not to let her surprise show. She had not heard of the Camarilla group that Isco supposedly represented, but she did know of the Cardea. Isco’s confusion when they first met and she mentioned the false organization now meant even more. The Cardea was an organization that was well known if only because it was unknown. They had money and means, but their purpose remained hidden to outsiders.

Hautman’s eyes drifted to Astar’s abandoned glass, and he brought his own to his lips. She followed his gaze and retrieved the crystal from the table, this time relaxing her shoulders.

“Of course, Father.” Astar brought the brandy to her lips. It was thick, sweet, but burned in her throat. She swallowed to clear it. “Is your intention to join them?”

Hautman laughed, and Astar drank. “No,” he said, “but they will be an important ally in the times to come.”

Astar kept her eyes on the liquid in her glass, cradling it in her lap with both hands. “Is there something happening that I should know?”

Hautman was quiet for a moment. When Astar looked up, he was watching her, his brow furrowed. He finally broke his trance with a sigh and leaned back. He shifted his weight, crossing one leg over his knee, before uncrossing it and settling both of his feet back on the ground.  

“I suppose it is time.” He leaned forward, though there was no one else near them to overhear. “There is a rumor that the Palamidia has a new Legatus. Shipments have slowed in the borderlands, and there is an unease there. There haven’t been any reports of troop movements yet, but we may find ourselves in need of powerful allies sooner rather than later.”

Astar raised a brow. “You think this Isco can gain you the favor of the Cardea?”

Hautman’s smile returned with a gleam that would have made Astar’s stomach turn even without the sickening brandy.

“I know he can.”

Astar tried to find her way through the fog of information. She knew she had all the pieces, but they wouldn’t quite connect.

“What does Kanna have to do with this?” she dared to ask.

“The Harbinger is an asset.”

Astar’s fingers tightened around her glass and she felt the liquid shift inside of it. Hautman had never used Kanna’s name, but something about his correcting tone made her defensive.

“She’s not a weapon,” Astar said with as much force as she could manage with Hautman, which wasn’t much.

Frowning, Hautman placed his glass on the table between them and it settled audibly. “She’s as human as the rest of us,” he conceded. “I simply wish to show her the respect she deserves.”

Something about the way he said it made Astar want to become smaller than she was. Astar cleared her throat, but before she could ask anything else, Hautman waved her off.

“That is all, daughter,” he said, leaning back into his seat. “I am tired, and would like to rest for tomorrow.”

The dismissal was abrupt but final. Astar closed her mouth around her questions and stood, abandoning her glass at the table. 

“One last thing,” Hautman said, stopping Astar when she reached the door. 

She turned to look over her shoulder.

“Make sure the Harbinger isn’t armed. It would be rude, don’t you think?”

Astar felt the cool brass of the doorknob beneath her palm as it warmed.

“Yes,” she answered. She forced her own smile. “I think you are right, father.”

Hautman was relaxed, and his smile was almost genuine. She had to look away. 

Astar let herself out of her father’s study, pulling the door shut behind her. 

Safely on the other side of the door, in the electric glare of the hall, she could breathe again.