Crown Daughter Nalyra strode down the halls of the High Fortress. No squad of Armswomen flanked or followed her this time. Not one of the Crown Daughters would ever bring an armed escort to a Sororal Conclave. To do so reeked of weakness, of insecurity.
Hence, Nalyra walked alone.
The gorgeous decorations of the palace would usually lift her spirits, but she didn’t even notice them at the moment. Her thoughts were too focused on the coming meeting, her mind shut tight as an airlock. Technically the High Fortress was her home as well, but she seldom felt less relaxed than she did here.
It might officially be home, but it was also the enemy’s stronghold. One enemy in particular — her younger sister, Viora. The little witch had her fingers in almost every pocket, her crownthreads wrapped around almost every mind, in the palace. An unguarded thought within its walls inevitably wound up within her grasp. More than once, Nalyra had been burned by Viora learning one of her secrets. Almost every one of her sisters had.
The hallway terminated in a large doorway, and Nalyra paused when she reached it. The door itself was as intricate as one might expect, covered in carvings and painted in regal colors. At the center of it was a glittering, nine-pointed star. Each arm of it pointed towards a metal disc, each nearly the size of her head. The discs were made from platinum, and each was carved with the heraldry of one of the Crown Daughters.
Nalyra’s eyes slid over the familiar design of her own crest. A stylized shield, surrounded by holy rays of light. She had been bestowed it on the day she became Royal Hand of the Saint’s Aegis. On the day the empyrean opened up before her. A slight smile touched her lips.
It vanished as it found the two discs on the door that were shrouded in black. Old wounds, but the scars never really faded. Once a family was broken, things never quite returned to how they were before.
Nalyra put the thoughts from her head and strode forward, the door gliding silently open once the scanner matched her biometrics.
The Conclave chamber was just as magnificent as the rest of the palace. Decorated tastefully in gold and royal purple, with great works of art hanging from every wall. Nalyra didn’t even glance at them, her attention focused on the middle of the room. A grand table sat there, large enough to be regal, but small enough that the Crown Daughters wouldn’t have to shout to hear each other.
The table was nine-sided, a throne-like chair at each edge. The high backs of each bore a different Crown Daughter’s crest, the same ones carved on the door. Two seats were shrouded, covered with black cloth.
Nalyra breathed a tiny sigh of relief when she saw that Viora hadn’t arrived yet. The only one currently sitting at the table was her second eldest sister, Falara. The woman gave a friendly smile, her purple eyes lighting up just slightly. Nalyra returned the smile and moved to sit down.
Falara was probably the safest of Nalyra’s sisters. It wasn’t because she was harmless — every Crown Daughter had the psychic strength to rip a mind apart with ease. However, Falara was no threat to the rest of her siblings politically, which was what mattered. Falara had joined the Covenant of the Maker at a young age, so while she did have ambitions and aspirations, they were entirely within the structure of the church. And woe betide any of the clergy who tried to stand in her way. The siblings kept a running count of the amount of corrupt or unfaithful members of the Covenant that Falara had personally excommunicated or even had imprisoned. Nalyra was pretty sure it was still sitting at forty nine.
“Nalyra. It’s been too long.” The Archpriestess said, bringing her hands together in a religious gesture of greeting.
“It has, Falara.” Nalyra returned the gesture, sitting down. “Since the last Reign Year ceremony. I missed you.”
She actually meant it. Falara was a gentle soul, for a Crown Daughter. Despite her somewhat imposing build, the woman was soft-spoken and considerate. She could get a little preachy at times, but all the sisters knew it was coming from a place of love.
The Maker’s Covenant needed more of those like her — women who carried their faith like a torch, rather than wielding it like a blade.
“How are things aboard the Aegis?” She asked, her voice soft. Naturally larger and stronger than most Zakkili, Falara always seemed to do everything carefully, delicately. As if she needed to prove that she had the proper temperament for a priestess.
“Mostly the same.” Nalyra shrugged. “Things have been peaceful…for the most part.”
She wouldn’t have been surprised if Falara knew about the Ydani and the boarding incident. News always traveled fast on Zakkil. However, if she had heard about it, she didn’t say anything.
“Thank the Maker.” Falara smiled. “I can’t help but worry when I think of you, Zikara, and Avyra out there in the frontier.”
“Hard to find a safer place out there than a Star Citadel, Fala. You know that.” Nalyra kept her voice steady, but her thoughts went to a certain alien, currently aboard the Aegis.
“Even still, Lyra.” Falara’s eyes darted to the two shrouded seats. “Even still.”
Silence fell over the room for a moment, before the door of the chamber slid open.
Crown Chancellor Viora stepped into the room, her stride graceful. As always, Nalyra’s second-youngest sister's clothes were stunning. While Nalyra’s clothes straddled the line between dress uniform and gown, and Falara’s clothes were, though finely made, a simple priestess’s robe, Viora wore a gorgeous ball gown. Covered in jewels and trimmed with gold and silver, the pink silken dress looked like it had cost a small fortune. And it probably had.
Above the plunging neckline of the gown, Viora’s makeup and hair were as immaculate as their mother’s, done by some of the best stylists in the Monarchy, retained exclusively by Viora. Her honey-golden hair shone in the room’s lighting, and her violet eyes, the lightest shade of purple amongst her siblings, sparkled.
Viora’s features made her look charming, or even innocent, harmless. Every Crown Daughter knew better than to judge by appearances. It was one of Viora’s favorite weapons, and countless men and women had been tricked into lowering their guard, only to be ensnared by leaking some secret, or making a social faux pas in front of her. And then, once Viora had any kind of leverage on you, she almost never let it go.
“Falara, Nalyra. How lovely to see you both.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling. There was some genuine affection in her voice, but it was coated with a simmering superiority.
“Hello, Viora.” Falara returned the smile.
“Viora. Greetings.” Nalyra said stiffly. A few painfully annoying memories from her last encounter with her sister welled up inside, and Nalyra had to force them down again.
“Oh dear, you seem upset, elder sister.” Viora swept gracefully over to her seat, sitting delicately in the throne-like chair. “If one didn’t know better, one might assume you had to endure a terribly embarrassing incident recently.”
Nalyra fought the urge to grit her teeth.
“One might. Perhaps. If one mistook idle speculation as a worthwhile way to use one’s time.”
Viora gave a satisfied little hmmm sound, and smoothed her dress.
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“Viora, I haven’t seen you at my church recently. Have you been attending services?” Falara asked. Her voice was kind, but there was a slight edge buried underneath.
Her sister’s smile slipped, just a bit, and Nalyra grinned internally. Falara was the one sister Viora couldn’t handle easily. She was too pious, too devoted to have much in the way of skeletons in her closet. Also, Falara was a widely beloved figure in the Covenant, too well-liked for Viora to embarrass. If she tried, there was a very good chance the whole thing would just blow up in the younger sister’s face.
“I have recently been attending services in one of the private chapels here in the Fortress, Falara. I’m not being impious.” She stuck out her lower lip, giving the impression of a child pouting.
“As long as you keep your faith to the Maker sincere, I shall not say more.” Falara returned gracefully.
“If you are worried about insincere faith,” Viora started, her eyes going to Nalyra. “I have heard a rumor that-“
Whatever she was going to say was cut off, as the door to the chamber opened once more.
High Steward Leora, the oldest of Nalyra’s sisters, entered the room. The eldest daughter was the shortest of her siblings, though it did nothing to diminish her poise and dignity. As always, her dress was plain and severe — finely made, but without excess or extravagance. Her dark blue hair was done up properly into a Crown Veil, a large, intricate hairpin her one concession to vanity.
But what drew Nalyra’s eyes like electric shock was the object in her hands.
Leora carried a folded piece of black cloth, identical to the ones covering two of the chairs in the room. With measured steps, she moved to the table, before solemnly throwing the cloth over one of the seats. The seat with a crest of a levik bird, soaring gracefully over a mountain range.
The crest of her third oldest sister, Taira.
Nalyra felt her stomach twist in a knot, and she clutched the table to steady herself.
“Crown Daughter Taira has departed on her journey to find her place within the Maker.” Leora said softly, after taking her place at the table.
Falara lowered her head, starting to pray. The honeyed smile had vanished from Viora’s face, replaced with an expression of equal parts fury and indignation.
Nalyra felt tears welling behind her eyes as she stared down at the table. How could Taira be dead? How could this happen?
Taira was the other of Nalyra’s siblings that she was close to. She wasn’t as gentle as Falara, but she had been intelligent, forward-thinking and compassionate. More compassionate than the rest of them, by far. She was the sister Nalyra could go to for advice when she was younger. The sister she could laugh about the past and chat about their family with now.
Or, she had been. Nalyra’s throat tightened.
“How did this happen?” She asked, her gaze still on the table.
“Currently, the position of the Monarchy is that Crown Daughter Taira was assassinated.” Her eldest sister answered, her voice flat.
Nalyra’s gaze darted upwards, a bit of anger surging through her. How could Leora treat the death of her sister with the same enthusiasm she might announce a new trade policy?
The anger died in her belly. Looking closer, she could see heavy bags under her sister’s purple eyes, half-concealed by makeup. In fact, Nalyra couldn’t remember ever seeing her oldest sister so worn-looking.
“Assassinated?” Viora hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “How dare they? When we find who did this, I will see their entire bloodline stripped of name, title, and dignity. Five generations of their descendants will scrub prison decks under guard, wearing their ancestor’s shame around their throats.”
There was no honey in Viora’s voice now. No subtle game. Only fury, both royal and sisterly.
“Yes. Justice will be meted out. The Queen has decreed it.” There was a smoldering anger, deep within Leora’s eyes. “But first, the assassin must be found, and any conspiracy laid bare.” She turned to look at Nalyra. “Crown Daughter Nalyra, you are charged with this task.”
“Yes, High Steward.” Nalyra answered without hesitation, though a sliver of confusion ran through her mind. The Queen had just given her a task, and now she was to investigate her sister’s murder on top of it?
“The situation on Orphila has taken a drastic turn for the worse, destabilized by the passing of Taira. You will arrive there with your Citadel under the directive of restoring order and supporting the planetary government.” Leora caught her gaze, and held it. “You will use the opportunity to find the parties responsible.”
“I understand, Leora.”
Orphila. Taira’s planet.
Like Nalyra, Zikara, and Avyra, Taira had also chosen to leave the nest of their homeworld. Not in search of adventure or conquest, though. Taira had worked her way up to Planetary Governor of a planet named Orphila. She had turned the relatively young settlement there into a symbol of cooperation and coexistence throughout the Monarchy.
Of all the colonies and settled worlds in Zakkili space, Orphila had the highest proportion of uplifted species living alongside the Zakkili. Much of that was owed to Taira’s fair and non-discriminatory policies. Under her governance, many non-Zakkili subjects held prestigious titles and positions — honors that would have been nearly impossible for an alien to attain anywhere else in the Monarchy.
And now that dream for coexistence might be fatally wounded.
“What do we know about the situation?” Nalyra asked. “How did she die?”
“The reports are still sparse, muddled.” Leora sighed. “A preliminary examination returned that she had been somehow poisoned, weakening her mental powers. After that, an unknown assailant psychically attacked her mind with enough force to destroy it, completely.”
Viora gave another angry hiss. It was a terrible way to go, and perhaps one of the worst for a Crown Daughter. Nalyra suppressed a shiver in her crownthreads.
“I will find the one responsible for this. I swear it.” She said, her voice low.
Under the table, her hand unconsciously went to the dagger on her belt, slowly running her thumb over the carvings on the crossguard.
“May the Maker guide you, Nalyra.” Falara murmured, head still bowed in prayer.
“Taira’s head secretary will have a data packet ready by the time you arrive at Orphila, Royal Hand.” Leora swiped through the small tablet in her hand. “If there is nothing further, then we may adjourn-”
“Wait.” Viora’s voice cut her eldest sister off.
“Yes, Crown Chancellor? Do you have more to add?”
“Why does this task fall to Nalyra? She just arrived in the Core yesterday.” Viora narrowed her eyes. “Why not assign Zikara or Avyra to investigate?”
“Royal Hand Zikara is on a related assignment, but her path takes her away from Orphila currently.” Leora answered, her voice even. “Royal Hand Avyra is on the opposite side of the frontier from the planet. She is currently dealing with a sizable smuggling ring and is unavailable.”
“Even still, with what happened…” Viora started, a look of cruel triumph on her face.
Here it comes. Even with her grief, I should have expected that she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to take a free shot at my position. Nalyra gripped the hilt of the dagger tightly.
“That is not relevant.” Leora's voice was sharper than usual.
“Oh?” Viora’s eyes seemed to gleam. “It’s not relevant that Crown Daughter Nalyra lost control of her ship to a race of alien-”
“The Crown is aware of what transpired on the Saint’s Aegis.” Leora held her younger sister’s gaze. “There is no need to discuss it here, currently.”
Nalyra’s eyes darted back and forth between her two sisters, her brow furrowed.
“Trying to protect Nalyra again, Leora?” Viora asked softly, her voice dangerous.
“No. The Queen Matriarch has declared that Crown Daughter Nalyra has full control over that situation, and awaits results from her exclusively on the matter.”
Viora drew back. Her face looked like she had just bitten into something sour.
“Very well. If the Queen Matriarch has made a decision, then it will be so.” She threw Nalyra a venomous look.
“Then if there is nothing else, we are adjourned.” Leora’s eyes met Nalyra’s. She didn’t have to say anything, her message clear: the Queen’s protection depended on the results Nalyra delivered. The Royal Hand gave her oldest sister a tiny nod.
“May the Maker walk with you all.” Falara said, rising from her seat, her prayers finished.
Viora left without a further word, gliding off with a huff.
“Sisters, take care of yourselves. Nalyra, be safe.” Leora nodded solemnly at her siblings, then followed her younger sister out of the room.
“The Maker will protect you, Nalyra.” Falara rounded the table, placing a firm hand on her sister’s shoulder. A note of fury entered her normally soft voice. “Find those responsible for this, and personally send them to meet Her.”
“I will, Falara. They cannot hide from me.”
Falara pulled her sister into a hug, Nalyra stiffening slightly in surprise. After a moment, she returned the gesture.
“Take care, Lyra.”
With a whisper of her robes, Falara left the room.
Running her fingers over the carved hilt of the dagger one more time, Nalyra started towards the doorway. She glanced back only once, her eyes finding the chair that held Taira’s crest, now shrouded in black.