Cyris Orbital, Sec.1

PROLOGUE:

Anonymous:

                This is the twisted love story of Kalina and Dante. Here’s what you need to know. Kalina and Dante were not made for each other. They do not fall in love at first sight. Their relationship is forced on them by politics and war. Kalina has been through much tribulation; Dante has not. Kalina finds pleasure in the heartless things of this world; Dante does not. Dante embraces the ideas of love, marriage, and family; Kalina does not. Their love story is not a tale of quality, but of quantity. Love by repetition, not by coincidence. But as inverted as this tale is, no one can deny them their love. This is a story that proves that wonderful ends can justify unconventional means…

CYRIS ORBITAL

Jasmine Chappell

Almost Home

Dante:

Being carried in triumph, for the first time, I am truly distracted from the war. The battle, of course, proved madly successful; few soldiers were lost; we cleanly swept the city, and I, myself, slit the throats of the Byban royal family. As I dragged my blade across the throat of the Empress, however, I hesitated. She was silent and proud, not looking at myself or her husband or her children, not weeping or shaking or even breathing heavily. Will my wife show the same strength when this happens to her, I thought.

My wife? When? Why did I choose these words? I am still months away from being married and frankly unsure if I am right to be wed. After all, Kalina is nearly 9 years younger than I am; I am emperor of the Etyans and she rules the Shadows; we only agreed to this wedding for political reasons, and those reasons may no longer be factors a few years into the marriage. There I go again, talking myself out of my wedding. While Kalina is not my wife yet, I still see flashes of her when I kill women or witness them being killed. There must be I reason for this, I assume. I love her. I am in love with her. I am in love.

Will my wife show the same strength when this happens to her, I thought. When this happens, a frightening thought. I, the emperor of the world's most feared army and most respected security, not only assume that Kalina will be murdered, but to some degree I know and expect it. I have dreamt it a thousand ways. At one point I imagined Clay of Byban slitting her throat, an ironic twist that vision took. Marcia of Hiyata has stabbed her through the heart. Lara of Nyria has hung her as entertainment for the Nyrian royal court. Zhro of D'yaji dumped her body into hot oil, beaten, but just alive enough to fully appreciate the pain.

It seems with each passing night, my imagination finds more gruesome ways to kill my wife. My wife-to-be. Is it fear? Fear of losing her? And if so, is it fear for political or personal reasons. Yes, the nation cannot afford to lose the Shadow queen as an ally, but I certainly do not want to lose my future wife. Perhaps it is subconscious wishful thinking. On some level, I have no doubt, my mother's values instilled in me permit me from ever even wanting to love. In this cognitive form, Kalina does not play the role of a wife, but is reduced to just another person to share the throne and a powerful threat with whom I share my most private secrets.

One way or another, I learned three things contemplating the events in my head: I want Kalina to be my wife; as my wife, she is highly likely to be killed, and this knowledge is enough to keep my mind off the events of their context and the impatient nation that awaits me at home.

Kalina:

Dante and his army have conquered the Bybans and murdered the royal family. He is on his way home from war.  No, he is on his way home from battle. He is on his way home during war. I find myself unnecessarily anticipative of his return. I think, I am hoping he is okay. Odd, expressing concern for others' well-being has never been something I made a habit of doing. Nor, though, has marrying grown men or relocating my entire nation or forming alliances with other nations or interacting with my servants.

I am distracted. Dante's servants – my servants. Our servants – are tap dancing on my last good nerve. "Is everything all right, my Lady?" "Would you like more ice my Lady?" "How are the wedding plans coming my queen?" This particularly irritated me. I am a queen, yes, but not your Queen. I am your Empress-to-be. Until I marry your Emperor, refer to me as my Lady as all the other servants with good sense.

Where was I? Yes, Dante. I have no doubt he is doing just fine.

Regardless, I am increasingly distracted by trivial events and no longer dedicate my full energy to my Shadows. I can occasionally convince the high court to allow me and my Shadows on covert missions that keep me satisfied. They show considerable concern, though, because they do not know any of the Shadows personally and they think I am too young to kill.

This is fully absurd, but I should explain. Myself, my fiancé, the Shadows, the Nyrian, the Baybans, and everyone else live on a small planet that orbits a much larger planet that orbits a much larger sun. Some call this a moon, but that implies a degree of uninhabitability. The population of the planet cannot agree on one name for it, though the larger planet is known as Great Cyris. In turn, the politically correct name for our planet is Cyris Orbital. The lovely orb of green is host to the deadliest assassins in the solar system as well as the most well trained armies and most militant-minded rulers. Each group lives on one of the islands or group of islands scattered about Cyris Orbital, and we are in constant competition to be recognized as the best. For the most part.

The Shadows, in contrast, are a small group of assassins on Oscuyi Island who, under the leadership of the last former King, have separated themselves as the alpha-males of the planet. There is no benefit to contesting our superiority. I have personally taken on an entire military of Qyalkoas and snapped every one of their necks. I have killed two generals and four ambassadors since I took the throne two years ago upon my mother’s abrupt retirement. As a Shadow, you are taught that the result of not being thorough and meticulous and cold is death. The Shadows have not lost a military mission in three generations of rulers, myself included. Unfortunately, our stand-out excellence takes all of the fun from killing. It is no longer seen as an art form, but rather as a personal hunt with no glory or competition. Victory is boring.

That is why I agreed to marry Dante. The Etyans are an expanding nation, with military prowess and a thirst for power. They are as cold as they are cunning; their efficiency is comparable to that of the early Shadows. I felt latching my Shadows to a nation of these qualities would be beneficial, but it has proven otherwise. The Etyans have rules. They have protocols. My Shadows are not permitted to fight in the wars because they are too cut-throat – in a literal since. Outside of Oscuyi, I have found, there is war etiquette. The Shadows will not comply, nor will I. My skills as an assassin are being wasted as Dante risks war every day and I sit on function-deprived couches of gold while his servants keep parch and famine from me, showering me with luxuries I have not earned. That is not why I agreed to marry Dante.

I await his return for two reasons: I wish to address my boredom as soon as possible and – honestly – I worry the stories of his triumph are exaggerated…. I am worrying.

Cersa:

I do not much care for the whore my son is intent on marrying. She couldn't hold a conversation to save her life. Everything, I mean, everything must be calculated and objective. What kind of wife will she make? And what 19-year-old girl wants to marry a 28-year-old man? And who moves an entire nation of dedicated citizens that have served her loyally – on a whim?! And what message does it send to ask for alliances in a period as this one? And – my goodness – is it so hard to talk to the servants?! This child is simply too flawed for the benefits she offers as Empress of Etya.

Yes, I did initially support the marriage. I advocated it, pushed for it, but I see now that the Shadows and the Etyans are not compatible nations.

Perhaps worst of all, I can see the emotion returning to my boy's face. He wants to embrace her when he returns from battle, though with her it's not much of an embrace. They speak in private before he leaves for battle. They kiss. My poor son, he loves her. He is in love with her. He is in love. He leads the nation for 6 years flawlessly, and the whore finds a weakness in him, but the heartless tramp doesn't even see it. She, to no surprise, treats this engagement as another assignment to be executed with a thoroughness, meticulousness, and coldness that only an expert assassin can muster.

This is why I instilled in my son the value of not wanting to love. While he is battling, distracted, watching wives being slain left and right, she is enjoying the plenty of his nation – his servants and unequaled golden couches. I'm starting to consider that she is marrying him, not for the benefit of her people, but for luxury she has not earned.

When my son returns, he will be greeted by an impatient and ungrateful nation. He will surely seek isolation to focus on the ensuing battles, and I will have to spend all my energy keeping his whore away from him.