His voice turned into a murmur that meant she no longer had his attention and he had become absorbed in his work once more. She might as well talk to the empty screen.
“I’m heading out, then,” Faith said. “Lots to do.”
No reply.
Sighing, shaking her head, Faith left him to his toys.
After meeting with the shift team leaders briefly to go over the night’s arrival schedule, Faith headed across the Haven to check in with Miranda, who had barely left the music room in the last week except when she had to go into the city. The Queen was scrambling to get ready for her big show on Saturday night; she and three other bands would take the main festival stage that evening, with her performance last since she was the biggest name.
The Austin Live Music Festival drew about fifteen thousand registered attendees every year, many of whom jockeyed for wristbands to the four-day event; there were close to a thousand performers on the schedule at outside stages, clubs and bars, and traditional music venues all over the city. The main stage would be surrounded by almost the entire congregation Saturday night. It was easily the biggest show she’d ever done; her album tour had focused on smaller, intimate venues and hadn’t strayed far from the South.
Miranda was planning to get home from her show in time to attend the main Council meeting; while she wasn’t required to attend, she was determined not to let it seem like she was unable to keep her two worlds balanced.
Faith shook her head. Modern women were able to vote, hold property, determine their own occupations, choose whom to marry, if anyone … but they were under a different
tyranny now, the drive to prove to the world they weren’t weak the way men had portrayed them for so long.
But that wasn’t the whole story, Faith knew as well as Miranda did; Miranda’s time as a performer was limited. She could perhaps eke out another decade before the questions became too hard to answer, and that was if nothing else went wrong. She would not age, she would not change at all, but the world would, and the world would notice. The mess with
Constellation
had rattled Miranda badly, even with David’s quick solution. Miranda had the sense she was living on borrowed time … and she was right.
They hadn’t really talked about it. For now there was a fragile détente between the two halves of the Queen’s life, as if bringing up the impossibility of it all would send the entire house of cards crashing down.
Faith approached the music room with her ears perked; interrupting the Queen in the middle of a song tended to make her grouchy. There was, however, no noise coming through the door, and Faith knocked.
The door opened by itself a few inches. That was how the Pair indicated permission to enter rather than calling out.
Faith walked in to find the Queen standing on her hands.
Once in a while the thought crossed the Second’s mind that she worked for some very strange people.
“My Lady.”
Miranda opened her eyes and looked up at Faith. She was balanced perfectly on her hands, her hair spilling out all over the floor around her, and her bare feet were pointed toward the ceiling, her toenails boasting a cheerful coat of purple polish. Her Signet had fallen down to rest on her chin. “Hi, Faith. How are things?”
“Oh, the usual. Twenty-five Primes coming for a slumber party. What’s new with you?”
Miranda grinned. “I’m balancing my chakras, obviously.”
The new yoga teacher, Elite 83, was an extremely nicely
put-together vampire named Samir, and his classes were well attended by Elite and staff of both genders. Faith was looking forward to introducing him to the Queen of Eastern Europe, who, after her introduction to yoga while in the South, was a yogini adept in several schools. Miranda hadn’t devoted herself completely to the practice, but she had learned enough to become even more gymnastic in her fighting style and, it would seem, to cope with the anxiety of the impending weekend. Faith had been pleased with the progress all the yoga students had made in their combat training and was in the process of starting similar programs in the other major Signet outposts in the territory.
Yet another thing the rest of the Council was chuckling about. Apparently the current view of the South was as some kind of free-love techno-ashram. Well, they were welcome to scoff all they liked; this weekend they’d see just how silly it was when the various guest Elite and the South’s own took part in the fight tournament that coincided with each Council session. She would lay odds that by Monday other Seconds would be approaching her to discuss her training methods, just as several Primes had oh-so-casually inquired about the sensor network since it had gone live all over the South and crime had dropped to almost nothing.
Faith mused, “Do you remember that scene in
Return of the Jedi
where Yoda makes Luke Skywalker do Jedi yoga and float rocks with his brain?”
Miranda’s grin turned mischievous, and Faith laughed as the pair of tattered Chucks on the floor nearby lifted off the ground. “That was
The Empire Strikes Back
, thank you very much,” Miranda said brightly.
“Dear God, you two spend way too much time together.”
The Queen dropped the shoes, then came gracefully out of the handstand. “Anything to report?”
“Nothing new or urgent. I was just checking in to see if you were ready for the festivities to begin. We’re two hours out from Tanaka’s arrival.”
Miranda glanced up at the clock and sighed. “If by ‘ready’ you mean ‘wishing to God it was over before it’s even started,’ then yes, I’m ready.”
“We’ve done everything we can to make this go smoothly,” Faith reassured her. “We’ve been preparing for this for over a year. Don’t concentrate so much on what could go wrong.”
“I have to,” the Queen replied, returning to the Bösendorfer, which was no longer alone on its end of the room; Miranda had set up a bank of digital keyboards directly behind the piano bench. She flipped a few switches on the main board as she went on. “I don’t get as freaked out if I plan for the worst-case scenario.”
“What would you consider the worst-case scenario here?”
“Let’s see … the last thing I came up with was Hart trying to kill me in the middle of the Council meeting.”
“That’s the worst thing you can think of? Honestly, my Lady, I’m disappointed.” Faith crossed her arms. “If Hart did anything that stupid in full view of the Council, they’d cast him out then and there. And since when do you believe he could kill you even if he tried? You could take him in a fight. Let’s not forget you threw him into a wall.”
She smiled. “Yes, I did.”
“My guess is that Hart wants to put on a show. He wants to come after you using the Council’s power; otherwise, why wait this long? He won’t try violence, not here and now.”
“You’re saying he’s going to kill us with diplomacy.”
“Politics has ended a lot of lives, my Lady. But honestly … you know what these meetings are really like? Tedious. They’re a bunch of rich old men waving their dicks around. They get together every ten years to show off and bluster at each other, but in the end, nothing really happens. There’s some redistricting and a few arguments, then everyone goes home and gossips for another decade.”
“I keep forgetting you were in London ten years ago,” Miranda said. “But you’ve never had to host one.”
“The housekeeping staff has a much bigger headache in all this than we do.”
“I have no doubt. I think the bonus pay will make up for it, though.”
“I was thinking of buying a Ferrari with mine.”
Miranda grinned at her and settled into a position that Faith had no doubt had benefited greatly from her yoga training: twisted slightly sideways so that she could reach the piano with one hand and the keyboard with the other and play both at once. She hadn’t invented the move, but it allowed her to perform some of the more complex tracks from her album without needing a backup band.
The Queen had gone against the grain of popular music and opted for a stripped-down, emotionally raw style on stage instead of creating lavish theatrical productions like most solo female artists, and the gamble had paid off. There was now a generation of up-and-coming girls-with-pianos on the radio. The lack of pyrotechnics was practical as well—it enabled her to travel light, which meant she could come and go from performances without spending days on the road. Her touring retinue consisted of a single truck and a Signet jet, both with blacked-out windows.
Before she got into her work, however, Miranda looked up at Faith again and said, “I’d like it if you’d do me a favor this weekend.”
Faith raised an eyebrow. “Name it, my Lady.”
“I know we have extra surveillance on Hart’s suite and the Elite are under orders to watch his every move, but … I’d like it if you would keep an eye on Queen Cora for me. Make sure she’s never alone with Hart.”
“You don’t think she can handle herself?” Faith asked.
“It’s not that … between Jacob and that giant dog of hers she’s safe enough, but I’m more concerned about her emotional health. After everything Hart did to her, I don’t want to put her in a position where he can hurt her in any way. It’s one thing for them to make nice in front of the full Council, but I don’t trust him not to at least lash out verbally.”
There was protective steel in the Queen’s eyes, and they had silvered at the edges as they always did when she mentioned Hart. Faith nodded. “Done.”
“Good. Thank you. I don’t know what to expect in all of this. I’ll breathe easier knowing you’re on watch.”
“Of course, my Lady. Although … I doubt I’ll be the only person with one eye on Cora.”
Miranda cocked her head to one side. “You mean Deven.”
For reasons known only to the Prime of the West himself, he had taken a special interest in Cora; Deven and Jonathan had been the second Pair to visit Prague, and Deven gave the Queen a rather impressive gift, a Nighthound named Vràna. Nighthounds, a breed of dog unknown outside the Shadow World, were traditional vampire companions, and giving one as a gift was a rare gesture for any Prime. It silently announced to the world that Cora was under Deven’s protection.
Rumors about the two of them had flown for months; if Faith were more cynical, she might have attributed that to Deven’s desire to downplay his tryst with David, which despite their best efforts had become a subject of Council gossip almost immediately. Anyone who knew Deven for more than ten minutes would find the idea of him courting Cora laughable, but still, it effectively shifted the spotlight.
“Why do you think he’s so interested in her?” Faith asked, almost offhandedly.
Miranda shrugged. “Why does Deven do anything?” She struck a chord on the keyboard, frowned, and nudged a lever upward to adjust the sound. “Maybe he just likes her. Maybe he envies that she’s held on to her faith despite everything that she’s been through. Maybe she reminds him of his mother. Who knows?”
Faith nodded in agreement, then said, “Well, if there’s nothing further, my Lady, I’ll head back to my schedule and start escorting in the arrivals. I’ll see you tomorrow night, then, before the ball?”
Another flicker of doubt passed over Miranda’s face, and Faith raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what the flicker was for. “You’re sure the dress is right,” Miranda
said. “And you’re sure you don’t mind doing my face? We could have hired someone, but … I always love the way you do your makeup. You have such a good eye for color.”
Faith smiled. “I told you, I’m happy to do it. I’ve already got a plan. You’re going to break every heart in that Council tomorrow night. Just trust me.”
She started to leave but paused as Miranda said, “I do trust you, Faith. In all things.”
Their eyes met and held for a moment, and Faith got a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach, wondering if … but Miranda only smiled, and it was with the same warmth toward the Second as always.
“Thank you, my Lady,” Faith said, then bowed and left Miranda to her rehearsal.
You are in love with my husband.
Miranda watched the Second’s black-uniformed shape retreat down the hall beyond the music room door, and again came that treacherous thought, the one she couldn’t deny—even given as hard as Faith was denying it.
Miranda had sensed it years ago, just after the Ovaska ordeal had ended, but for a long time she had tried to dismiss it, even though her gift had never been wrong. As the years had passed, it had become harder and harder to ignore … but Miranda tried. She didn’t want to know this. She shouldn’t know it.
Once, in another lifetime, the gift of empathy had driven Marilyn Grey mad and then a decade later destroyed the sanity of her daughter. Marilyn had taken her own life to stop the endless assault of voices and emotions that shoved their way into her, obliterating her own thoughts. Miranda had barely missed that fate, but by the end she
was
dead … and born again, a vampire.
The gift had always given her knowledge about people that she didn’t want. It wasn’t her right to know someone else’s innermost fears and desires. She didn’t want the
power to take advantage of their insecurities … yet she could, and she did, first onstage, then as Queen.
She had long ago given up any pretense that her manipulation of her audiences was ethical, but she had felt better about it once she learned that the gift didn’t work through recordings or over the radio. People had to be in her presence for her to read and shift their feelings, so she couldn’t influence them to buy her albums except by making sure their concert experience was worth every penny of the ticket price.
It was assumed among the Signets that whatever gifts a Queen had, she would use to their utmost in service of her territory. Sometimes that meant deliberately invading people’s privacy. Sometimes it meant keeping shields between herself and people she loved, for their own safety. Sometimes … sometimes things still slipped through.
Miranda’s hands slid down from their position over the keyboard, then up to cover her face.
There were so many things she knew that she didn’t need or want to know. There were so many things she knew that she couldn’t tell anyone, not even David.