Chapter 5: Hidden warnings

I sat across from Victoria in a small café inside the gallery. The light from the low-energy lamps—Retgaron's latest innovation, which the capital, or rather Victoria, was the first to adopt, of course—filled the space with a soft golden glow. It didn't just illuminate the room; it seemed to adjust to the hues of objects and skin, making everything around just a little more beautiful. 

Outside the large windows, snow was falling quietly. Light flakes swirled in the air, settling slowly on the neat pavements of the City, dissolving in the warmth of the narrow streets at its very heart. We weren't far from the Tower, yet it felt like a different planet. People hurried past, ground shuttles moving with silent efficiency. Busy with my personal drama and my trap, I always forget that people in the City just live their lives, far from the intrigues of the Empire.

Well, not all of them, but most—office clerks, shuttle drivers, cooks and restaurant keepers, waiters, school teachers, artists, even lower-rank military—just lived and enjoyed being alive while they could. The nights were still difficult here, with Their drones attacking the infrastructure and residential building to terrify us, but the shields defending the capital of the Empire were generally quite good. Born on Retgaron in this iteration, I felt a funny feeling of pride crawl into the back of my mind, for these were my people who worked their asses at the labs back there to develop those technologies and give these people something similar to normal life.

For a fleeting second, I allowed myself to think: what if all this horror had only been a dream? What if I could just let go—for once—forget the intrigues, the danger, the ever-present sense of threat, and simply enjoy the moment?

Victoria sat across from me, reclining easily against her chair, fingers idly threading through her long dark hair. She seemed almost carefree, though the rhythmic tapping of her nails against her cup suggested that she was excited or anxious.

"So, did you like the gallery, your Grace?" she asked, lifting her cup to her beautifully cup lips. She hadn't exaggerated; the Ziosian herbs at her café did taste remarkably good after the bland, even if perfectly nutritious (no luxury in the difficult time!), rationed meals at the Tower.

I ran my finger along the rim of my own cup, smiling thoughtfully. Victoria's gallery was a place that made you forget you were in the year 4599. There were paintings here from before the Shift, pieces that had been rescued from the Great Revision—even a few that had once been brought from Earth itself. It a miracle they survived, and they must cost a fortune. However, art was not especially sought now, and you could probably buy a lot if you had food and smuggled Ruby Oil to bargain. Not all planet and colonies lived like the Capital lived.

Victoria twirled a spoon between her fingers, playing with it absentmindedly. She looked impeccable, as she had at lunch. Her dark blue suit, cut in elegant lines, was made of fine wool, and beside her on the table lay her long leather gloves. I wondered if Zios has finally a banished those illegal producers of genuine fur and leather, and if Victoria would ever wear them. At the thought, I shrugged a bit. Isn't it funny that a ten-life Consort cannot think of poor animals? But here me now, I am still afraid of killing.

"Of course, I adored your gallery. You have a magnificent collection. Did it take long to put together?"

Victoria smiled.

"Oh, the collection isn't exactly mine. I inherited it from my father. He traveled extensively, visited every planet in the Union—and more than once. You know, he wasn't exactly understood on Zios. The farmers thought he was an eccentric with too much money, and they made up all sorts of stories about him."

"What kind of stories?" I asked, intrigued. Ten lifetimes, and I still love gossip. Probably because it is often a useful source of information—and sometimes the only one.

Victoria lowered her voice slightly, her eyes mischievous.

"They said he traveled to lands that don't even exist on maps. That once, when he returned, he brought something—or someone—back with him. After that, people claimed they could hear him whispering even when he wasn't speaking, and that sometimes, in mirrors, his reflection did things he hadn't."

"That's quite a story. And did you ever notice anything like that?" I asked teasingly.

Victoria laughed, though something told me that the tale wasn't entirely the invention of superstitious farmers.

"Strangely, only those who never met him saw such things. But the entire colony talked about him." She tilted her head slightly. "So, did anything stand out to you? Any particular piece?"

I thought of the enormous painting that took up an entire wall in the central hall. An abstract landscape that seemed chaotic at first glance. But if you looked closer, you could see faint, almost imperceptible silhouettes—figures dissolving into the colors, then reforming again, as if they existed outside space and time.

"The landscape, the one with the melting contours," I said. "It… struck me."

"Zios in winter. My father's own work," Victoria murmured, setting her cup down.

I looked at her more closely. Victoria wasn't looking at me; her gaze had drifted to the snow outside. She was mourning something or someone. The light snowfall was turning into a blizzard towards the night, temperature obviously falling a few degrees every minute. 

"It's beautiful in the south of the colony during winter, where the fields meet the archipelago," I suddenly heard myself say,. "I… read about it." I cut myself off abruptly and hurried to change the subject:

"So do you miss him or your home?" I asked quietly.

She shrugged slightly.

"We all miss someone or something. Maybe I miss less hostile environments."

I took a sip of tea, forcing myself to stay silent before I said something I shouldn't.

"You've been to a lot of places, haven't you?" Her voice was calm, measured. Too calm, and too measured, or maybe I was just being paranoiac. Anyway, I didn't answer.

"Not really,

"You are young, you will have a lot of time to visit places. Even if you talk like you are older than you are, like you've quite lived your life already," she squinted slightly at me, but I just smiled, acknowledging the compliment, "I promise you the best welcome at Zios should you and His Highness decide to visit."

"By the way, how do you like your tea? Not too strong?"

"What?"

"I mean, it has Ziosan additives."

Right, so that's true about Ziosan herbs. I glanced down at my cup and once again felt that strange, almost euphoric calm spreading through my body. I looked around the room. People sat in soft alcoves, whispering, laughing. Some, hidden in dimly lit corners, kissed quietly, as if the rest of the world no longer existed, or at least leaning close to each other, relaxed, lighthearted.

"Oh." I feigned nonchalance. "And what exactly does this tea bar specialize in?"

Victoria was enjoying my reaction.

"I think you've already figured that out. But if I were you, I wouldn't complain. You're feeling good, aren't you?"

I couldn't help but smile. Well, she wasn't wrong.

"Alright, you got me. But tell me—why this whole setup? Do you just want me to relax?"

Her smile thinned.

"Yes. And also, I really miss having a friend here." She took another sip of tea and then, almost casually, added, "My husband and I have been receiving threats, and he doesn't like me socializing outside the Tower. He's even insisting I close the Gallery."

Her husband was the second most powerful man in the Empire after the Emperor himself. Unofficially, of course, but he led the largest and wealthiest delegation in the Council, wielding considerable influence. He had been stationed here five years ago, and in five years, I imagined he had made plenty of enemies. As had Victoria.

"Victoria…"

"Don't tell the Emperor," she interrupted quickly. "Promise me."

I narrowed my eyes.

"I promise. But what are you doing about it?"

"Well, it's no secret that power in the Empire comes with risks. You've heard how the last Emperor and his wife died, haven't you?"

Something in my expression must have given me away, because Victoria quickly added,

"Sorry, that was tactless of me, Your Grace. I only meant that you should be careful. Don't neglect your security. Especially as night falls—and They start preparing to strike again."

"Thank you, but you should be careful too."

I glanced at the squad of guards stationed by the doors, their chrono-bags at the ready.

We talked a little more about the gallery, as if that sudden moment of openness had never happened. But soon, it was time for me to meet with Amalia and Osmond. Unintentionally, Victoria had provided me with the perfect alibi for Theo—I'd simply tell him I lost track of time in this atmosphere, and Victoria was unlikely to remember the exact moment I left.

"It's quite late. I should go," I said. 

Victoria nodded.

"Of course, Your Grace. But I'll stay a little longer. I have business here at the gallery."

I rose from my seat, giving her one last look. She sat as calmly as before, as if she hadn't just told me something important.