"Princess! C-c-con-gratulations! You look so bright…!"
My little bridesmaid collapsed in tears, for the fifth time in one day.
"Thank you, dear Eddelritto. Now, let's make sure you look your best…" As the grand reception ball swept around us, and the orchestra boomed out another tiresome military march, I knelt and dabbed at her little dress with a wet hanky.
"Hah!" I glanced up at my second bridesmaid, looking fetchingly fiery in a rose coloured gown, "Married three hours, and you look like a mother already."
"Rafia; I did miss you, after you left Mars for earth to succeed your father. You always were so refreshingly direct."
"Like your sweet Prince?" I turned quite red, Rafia guffawed, and I barely stifled Eddelritto's shriek of indignation.
"Anyway, Countess. Would you not say it promises to be wonderful evening?"
"Certainly notable, your Highness, given that Versian noblewomen have started dressing like confectionary Christmas trees. Femianne must be turning in her graves."
By the light of a dozen chandeliers, I looked over the great hall of the Imperial Palace of Earth. Barely finished in time for the grand ball, which everyone had worked so hard to prepare…but which really could have been going a lot better.
Grandfather had retired long before the formal congratulations had ended‒I'd badly wanted to speak with him. My Prince had whirled me around the dancefloor marvellously, until I could believe we were two birds, soaring close to the sun together. But for nearly thirty minutes now, he'd been talking intently with Count Pherring about unrest in the Near East. My sister had refused her invitation.
Versian culture tends to the functional; there had been no balls on Mars, and certain none in earth orbit. Some other couples had danced, but it hadn't really taken. Presently, all the gentlemen were lounging around the buffet, loudly discussing military this, resources that and oppression-of-Terrans-the-other. Most of the ladies were drifting about the dance floor, talking about nothing very much. Some younger baronesses were quite disgracefully overdressed. I told Rafia, at least they had shown willing.
"Silly little chits. I'm sorry, Highness, but the Orbital Knights are a Spartan military order! Warriors can't possibly be at ease with such indulgent diversions."
"Well, however you feel, you look quite stunning, Countess."
"Hmph! I think half the Knights would have turned up without a wedding to see Amazon Raffia in a frock! I'm begging you, Highness, don't mention our wager to anyone."
With a five year advantage, Rafia had been rather confident of beating me in a Judo match to avoid wearing a ballgown, but I have had a black belt since I was ten. And the memory of being choked by a different redhead provoked an astonishing burst of strength.
I certainly did receive a rounded-education. I had tutors for self-defence, etiquette, Versian history, political science, military affairs, small arms and other subjects. All apparently vital skills for a future Empress, but nothing that made me feel the least prepared to be a wife. Except for one young tutor's lessons….but even dear Slaine hadn't prepared me for what was waiting on earth.
"Please remember, Countess," I went on, "This ball represents the journey of Vers from her war-bound past to our future hopes of peace. I'm sure you'll agree with me that relations between the Orbital Clans must be improved."
"Can't argue with that."
"Especially those relationships required for their perpetuation by heirs…."
"Marriage? Well, I don't intend giving up my Clan and my noble's independence to any man, Highness. I've got three promising Viscountesses under consideration right now."
"For adoption? I thought you and Count Zebrin…"
"Please don't make out our bond as fellow warriors to be something so trivial," Rafia suddenly seemed interested in staring out of a window, "No, adoption worked for the Roman Emperors, the Samurai and half the 37 Clans, including Femianne. No risk of unworthy heirs, no frivolous distractions from our duty‒"
"Oh, Count Zebrin! There you are!"
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Rafia's head whipped round; I gestured to Zebrin that he should to join us. The Count detached himself from several barons, who had been complimenting his suppression of riots in South Africa, and made his way to us.
"Highness; congratulations, once again. Countess. I hope to fight beside you again."
"Likewise. Next time there's a war, I'll be right at your side, Zebrin." Rafia stared to one side again, arms folded.
"Count Zebrin, wouldn't you say that Countess Rafia ought to wear dresses more often?"
"…as often as she has occasion would be quite sufficient, Highness."
"Oh my. Sufficient because she looks that stunning?"
"Zebrin, have you told her Highness about the battle in Siberia?" Rafia cut in, face red as her hair, "Weren't we both close by when Sir Harklight was killed protecting her husband?"
"…Mr Harklight…" Eddelritto sobbed; she'd adored him since they'd met. Rafia glanced at her with shocking contempt, and went on;
"I just thought you might remind her Highness how many brave warriors have bled and died so she could have this little knees-up and make these remarks. They gave their lives, all of them‒"She glared around the bright chattering hall, "‒it's just that this feels such a ridiculous end."
Oh Rafia. Couldn't I be happy this one day? Forget the price of my foolish dreams for even an hour?
Of course I couldn't. I'd come to earth, so self-assured, independent… so naïve. The price had been millions of innocents dead, and a fragile peace only bought in human lives. Rafia had flattened a city herself‒in blind rage, she told me, because she thought her childhood friend had been blown to pieces.
"I'm sorry…"
"Well," She'd said, "It's done now."
It was done. And now what could I do? I couldn't even call her back as she went.
"Your Highness…" Zebrin coughed tactfully, "Countess Rafia bears you no ill-will‒we almost lost her in that battle as well. And I saw Sir Harklight run to defend your husband without pause or doubt. He was a true knight, who willingly gave his life for the future of Vers. And in hope that you and Prince Slaine would live and enjoy this day."
"And the unwilling?" I smiled bleakly, stroking Eddelritto's head, "The Terran soldiers, civilians? Children?"
"Collateral damage. Rebels, hostages, old humanity…the future of Vers requires such matter to be cleared. You couldn't understand, away from the battlefield, Highness…forgive my bluntness. All necessary." He didn't shake, but kept the perfect poise of an Orbital Knight. His eyes weren't haunted‒they looked straight ahead, blank.
I knew Zebrin was one of the cleverest knights‒some of them mocked him for it. But I'd never really seen how words like 'necessary' and 'collateral' can stop thinking instead of start it. Perhaps I'd been a fish with no word for water. However many African Terrans Zebrin had killed, for whatever reason, he couldn't let himself understand that it had possibly been wrong.
Rafia had told me once that she felt like a goddess, riding in the Scandia. A virgin goddess of the hunt, risking her life for the power to choose who died and lived. Counts Selkanis and Reiner had spent far longer in their Kataphracts and talked the same way to everyone. It made me afraid for her, and for myself.
But I wasn't a goddess. I was a Princess. I couldn't do anything. But I had to do something.
"Count Zebrin; you were always reading such difficult books of science and physics on Mars. Could you not try to find another way?"
"Only the surest way is acceptable, Highness. For the trust your Grandfather and husband have placed in me. Trust and respect." He finished his drink and sighed. If Zebrin felt like a god of lightning in the Electris, I don't believe he felt at all like a god when he was out of it.
"Respect can come in many ways. For instance, Countess Rafia often told me that mass executions and purges were actions of the weak and insecure. She said she never killed anyone, after Earthfall, who wasn't trying to kill her."
"Well, Countess Rafia…is quite something."
"You should ask her about it. Perhaps ask her for a dance?"
"Ah‒er‒her views on marriage‒ruin our friendship‒couldn't possibly‒!"
"You deserve it. You saved her in Siberia, didn't you?"
"Highness! I did shout for her to get out, before that rocket hit the Scandia. But however did you know?"
"Back on Mars, you would always encourage Countess Rafia after her arguments with her father. When other Nobles called you a bookworm, she always defended you. You're too modest, Zebrin. I know have brains and kindness. But we need courage to ensure that we use what we have."
Smiling quite serenely, I left Sebring to consider my words. Of course, Rafia's views on marriage were a real hurdle. A boost to Zebrin's self-respect wouldn't cure him from massacring Terrans overnight. But I had done something. Done what I could.
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"That was amazing, Highness!" Eddelritto squeaked. I had sat down in a window seat, leaving Count Zebrin to screw up his courage, and go after Countess Rafia.
Was it? I had come back from the shadow of death, three times. Executed Femianne‒we hadn't been close, but it was one more miserable secret. Made the best friends of my life among Terrans, and lost them all (Harklight had promised to search for everyone from the Deucalion, but held out little hope). I had engineered the worst Versian defeat since Heaven's Fall at Novosibirisk, to save a million lives. Inspired a global peace that the Terrans broke in weeks. Survived, when Inaho-San and so many others had been lost.
And now I was married, to a man who would move heaven and earth to keep me pleased, and free from danger. I had given up Rafia's treasured independence, where she might never have to live considering the happiness of another above her own. But now, would matchmaking for mass-murderers be my life's significant activity?
"Highness? You look a little tired. Please rest here, and let me get you something to eat."
I smiled at Eddelritto. Yes. I would do what I could, and I would rest.