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Chapter 10
Vahadr
Sometimes, I envy the commoners with their simple, meaningless lives.
Being the sole charge for an entire planet has its complications. Many of them, in fact, especially when the populace on the far side of the sphere have gotten it into their heads to be difficult, and reports of civil unrest are rising. Do they not realize how much more vulnerable they would be with an overthrow of the current political hierarchy? Do they not know how hard I’ve worked to eradicate crime, raise median wealth statistics, implement the sphere-wide free healthcare they so desperately needed? Do they truly think another leader would be so selfless as I should they have me replaced?
There is such little gratitude in this line of work…
If my ministers over in Chyeltsk cannot get matters under control—or worse, if any of them are behind the uprising—I will have to send Kyrin over to sort matters for me.
Heads will fly, tantrums will be subdued, political structures re-organized… Such a hassle.
On top of all that, I still have the matter of the illegal orphan-siphoning ring here in Novgradym to contend with. I had put a stop to that two years into my term as president, but the Kuznezhens are rearing their heads once more, trying to stir up bidders within foreign military bases to buy our orphans again as soldiers-in-training, and I’ve honestly had quite enough of all the nonsense.
As I step into my home, unbuckling my rapier and handing it to the nearest butler, I feel a strong desire to simply drop myself onto the nearest couch and remain there silently for the next few hours.
Mother is right, I really am an emotional wreck.
But, of course, I have no time to entertain my self-indulgent sentimentalities, as my coms device begins to vibrate against my wrist. Very few people have my personal line, with Miss Martin handling the majority of my calls coming through on her own device, so I know this is not one I can avoid. I push my sleeve back with a sigh and see that Syeshin, of all people, is calling me.
I have not talked to that male since I relieved him of his role almost three weeks ago.
I immediately begin to head towards my private bar as I accept the call. I need a stiff drink. There is no happy reason for him to be calling me, that is a certainty.
“Syeshin, yes?”
“Good evening, your Glorious Highness.” His face is projecting from a dimly-lit kitchen with lace curtains blowing behind him. “I trust everything has been going well with your newest assistant?”
“Yes, yes,” I say impatiently. Despite that for three days a week, I must work long-distance with Miss Martin, this isn’t a lie. She has been just as effective as Syeshin’s full-time services had been and definitely more pleasant to look at. “Why have you called?”
“It’s Ms. Petrz, your Grace. She has been trying to get in contact with you.”
My feet still beneath me as Syeshin’s watery yellow eyes regard me nervously.
“I have been receiving daily calls and threats from her, along with demands to speak directly with you at once regarding your son.”
“I trust that you have dissuaded her of this notion?” I say in rather a colder tone than I had intended. “She lost all rights to Asili when she abandoned him.”
“I have tried your Eminence, but she is quite insistent. And slightly terrifying.”
“Do not give her access to my new number,” I snap. “Do not give her access to Miss Martin’s contacts. Do not even tell her that you are no longer working for me. I will not speak with her.”
“I have done none of those things,” he says quickly, with a deep bow to the screen. “Your privacy and comfort are my greatest concern.”
“Syeshin.” The croaky voice of his mother can be heard wafting through in the background. “I’ve fallen off the toilet again. Come and help me before I catch my death in here!”
“Yes, well,” I say, twitching my sleeve back across my wrist. “I believe you have other pressing matters to attend at this moment.”
“Yes, your Gra—”
As I tap the transmission off and start back down the hall, I try very hard to ignore the angry way my entire body stiffens.
Emotional, indeed.
That is when I hear Asili’s high voice raised in anger, clearly on the precipice of another of his tantrums. With only the slightest hesitation, I re-direct myself once more and head towards the sound. But just before I round the corner, Miss Martin’s voice joins the fray, loud and waspish, and I slow my footfalls before I come into view.
Is she yelling at my son?
