Displaced

My mom should have killed me the day I was born. In her nearly nine-hundred-year reign as the Empress of the First Family, sparing my life seventeen years ago was her single act of mercy.

Evians around the world refer to me as “Enora’s Folly.”

It’s no wonder I’m fatally flawed, a blemish among the shining population of evians Mom rules. I spent my childhood running away from my twin sister’s taunts. Maybe that’s why no one on the island can catch me. On days when life feels too heavy and my heart struggles to beat without melancholy, the Kona wind blowing against my face reminds me the world is vast and full of possibility. And on days when I need that wind, but my mom’s too busy to run with me, there’s always Lark.

“Wait up,” she calls from dozens of yards behind me.

I stop at the top of the northeastern cliffs, the highest point on Ni’ihau, and scan the horizon while I wait for her. Dolphins leap energetically in the distance. I’ve been on this island the majority of my life, yet every single time I stop to take in the lush island of Kauai in the distance, and every time I stand at the highest point of Ni’ihau, the majesty of my surroundings astonishes me. When Lark finally reaches my side, her lungs heave in great, gulping breaths and she bends over double. “We should’ve taken the horses.”

“Are you okay?” I lift one eyebrow.

She waves her hand at me absently and wheezes. “Fine, you idiot. Not all of us are machines. You’ve got to ease up for the little people.”

“You’re the one who suggested we take this trail.”

“I guess that makes me the idiot.” She straightens next to me, her heart rate decelerating back to normal.

“As your best friend, I officially disagree with you.” I grin. “You’re smart and talented, Lark. People like you. Now repeat that until you believe it.”

“Speaking of how much you love me...” Lark won’t meet my eye.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“I need help.”

Most evians don’t do favors, not without negotiation and quid pro quo, or at least a few moments of analysis to weigh the impact and risk to them. But I’m the broken heir, the defective twin, the one who doesn’t view friendship as a commodity like I should.

Which is why I immediately say, “Anything. You already know that.”

Lark’s voice drops to a whisper. “The intelligence subsection is getting more competitive every year.”

She’s a year older than me and recently completed her training, which means placement for her first work assignment happens in the next few days.

“Right,” I say. “Balth said it’s gotten popular.” Not that I care, since I’ll never be placed anywhere. I’m stuck here forever.

“A few years ago, Mom could’ve gotten me a spot for sure.”

“But now?”

“Well.” She clears her throat. “She can’t do much now. But if I could defeat a seventh gen in a challenge. . .”

Lark wants to fight me. And more than that, she needs to beat me. Publicly.

“You want to stab me with a sword in front of everyone we know?” That’s a pretty big ask. I mean, I heal lightning quick, but it still hurts. Plus, Lark is tenth gen. Losing to her would be a new low, even for me.

“I really don’t want to get stuck working for Uncle Max.”

“Oh come on. He loves fostering the young minds. He’s always talking about it.”

“He is,” Lark groans. “The idea of restructuring corporations all day long. . .” She closes her eyes. “I’ll die of boredom.”

Lark has always been melodramatic. “Just submit your DNA and you’ll be auto-admitted into intelligence. It’s not that competitive. I mean, you suck at appearance modification, and your mom is pretty well known, so you’ll probably be stuck human side initially, but you can buckle down and practice your modifications and you’ll cross over eventually.”

“But if I defeat you, I’d be automatically ranked number one in Alamecha’s class.”

And I’d look pathetic, losing to someone with three generations more genetic deletions. I open my mouth to tell her no, but her quick inhalation stops me. She can test right into a top tier Security placement with a simple blood draw. Usually only candidates below fifteenth gen resort to theatrics like a public challenge. Why would she ask me to destroy my reputation for something she doesn’t even need?

“You’re absolutely positive you want a Security placement?” I ask.

Her gray eyes widen and her breath hitches again. This request matters to her. She might have even orchestrated this run to ask me without interruption. Heaven knows she never wants to go jogging, so this suggestion came out of the blue. My oldest friend has never asked me for a single thing, not in seventeen years. She probably knows better than anyone else how hard things are for me, and now she’s asking me to do something she doesn’t really need, knowing Judica will never let me forget my defeat.

Why?

I want to shove the thoughts away and ignore the nigglings at the back of my mind. But I can’t. I’m not wired that way, and I keep circling back to the same conclusion. “I can only think of one reason you’d ask me to throw a challenge.”

Lark’s heart rate spikes and the scent of her perspiration rises, almost as strongly as when she was running full tilt.

Unfortunately, that’s the confirmation I need. “You can’t do the blood test.”

Her nostrils flare. “Of course I can.”

She’s lying to me, but I hope I’m wrong about why. Because I think she just asked me to commit treason, and she didn’t even plan to tell me I was doing it.

Why does she need me to throw a fight? I rarely train in earnest, whereas she spends hours every morning with her mom. Actually, she’s rumored to be one of the best fighters on the compound. “Why not simply challenge me?”

Lark’s gray eyes widen.

“Come on Lark, you can tell me. What’s going on?” Please, please come clean.

“Never mind. It’s fine.” Lark turns away from me and picks at non-existent lint on her pants.

When I grab her hand, she jumps like I electrocuted her. “Tell me.”

She yanks her hand away with wounded eyes. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“You’re half human.” My words hang in the air like a cloud of gnats, impeding my vision of the future, clouding my memory of the past, a plague on my heart. I wish I could wave my hand and dissipate the reality of my accusation, but I can’t. Only Lark can fix this, by denying my wild claim.

I need her to deny it.

I’m afraid she can’t.

When she doesn’t say a word, I struggle to breathe. Lark’s father must have been human. She’s only half evian. Every moment of our seventeen years as best friends shifts, characterized by my new knowledge. Her heaving when we run, her training alone, her reticence to travel with me. The ground beneath my feet feels unsteady, like there’s been an earthquake.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper. “Why didn’t you confess years ago?” The realization that she didn’t even tell me now slaps me hard. I had to figure this out, about my own best friend.

A tear streaks down her face and she wipes it away ruthlessly. “What will you do now you know?”

“Look at me.”

She doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re asking me that right now. I’d never turn you in. You think I could ever watch your execution? Lark, look at me.”

Her lower lip wobbles. “I should never have asked in the first place. Mom was right. Why did I try to outsmart you? I’m deficient.”

I can’t even imagine living with that kind of fear. Why didn’t her mother leave with her or adopt her out? The idea of life without Lark shatters my heart into pieces. All this time and she couldn’t even risk telling her best friend. That’s reason enough for me to throw one fight. No one should live like she’s had to live, and if I can create a safer space for her in our world, I’ll do it.

This time it’s my voice that wobbles. “Your mistake wasn’t in asking, it was in withholding the relevant information. Of course I’ll do whatever you need. You’ll get into Security and select intelligence and then you’ll leave.” I realize one reason I didn’t want to help her before is that her Uncle Max lives here, and I didn’t want her to leave.

But she has to go.

If she stays on the island, it’s only a matter of time before someone else figures it out. “Then no one will ever know.”

She shakes her head. “If you figured out why I asked, someone else might guess too.”

“So we stage your challenge. Someone optimistically throws one down on me at least twice a year, you know, seeing as I’m the useless twin. I always turn them down flat, but maybe you’d make me mad enough to accept. Best friends know exactly which buttons to push, right?”

The corner of Lark’s mouth turns up slightly. “Even so, Balthasar might figure it out,” she says. “During the match I mean. It’s dangerous, too dangerous to risk, which is why Mom said not to even ask you.” She drops her face into her hands. “Mom’s going to kill me when I tell her about all this.”

“Tell your mom that you have an ally now.” I smile and take her hand in mine. “I may not be the heir, but I’m an heir, and beating me will be enough. Besides, once you’re in the field working from the human side, you’ll be away from all the evian politics. And working on the human side, you’ll be safe.”

“That’s the plan,” she says. “But when Mom finds out you know...”

“So don’t tell her.”

Lark shakes her head. “I can’t lie to my mom. I can’t. I lie to everyone else.”

Her life has been harder than I ever realized. “How slow are you, exactly?”

Lark balls her fingers into a fist and swings at me. I duck easily. Her reflexes probably put a human to shame, but they’re notably slower than mine. Ugh. How will we pull this off?

“I think the only way people won’t notice your speed is if I’m truly horrible,” I say. “Which shouldn’t be too hard. I haven’t reached the point of integrating active combat into my training yet, so I’m sure I’ll be convincingly terrible.”

“You’re saying your mom’s insistence on training you in old school melodics might save me?” Lark’s smile reaches her eyes this time, and when her stormy gray eyes sparkle, I decide we can pull this off.

We don’t have a choice.

“You took it easy on me,” Lark accuses me as we reach the palace compound.

Cookie Crisp, my King Charles Spaniel, frolics around my legs when I turn onto the main hallway. I ordered her to wait here while we went for a jog. If I let her come, she practically keels over about a mile into the warm up. I crouch down and pet Cookie’s ears to buy some time for Lark’s heart rate to come down.

“Chancery,” she hisses. “if this is going to work, you can’t do that. You can’t act a hair different than before.”

I nod infinitesimally. “Fine. Now shut up.”

She grins. “Good. That’s back to normal.”

“I’ve got to meet Mom for breakfast soon. So if you want to do this, we better go right now.”

At her nod, I head for the security office. When it comes into view and I notice the tall, broad-shouldered guy sitting in the front, I pull up short. “Actually, maybe after breakfast is better. I should go shower right now. I stink.”

“You barely broke a sweat, you freak of nature.” Lark’s eyes follow mine and her mouth breaks into a grin that nearly cracks her jaw. “You’re such a chicken.”

She’s the only person on Ni’ihau who knows how hot I think Edam is, and now I regret telling her.

My cheeks flush, but before I can invent a more believable excuse than needing to shower, Lark pushes past me toward the office. I hear voices coming toward us from the opposite direction, voices I recognize. Kegan and Voron are in Lark’s class. This is the perfect opportunity, which means I can’t duck out no matter how badly I want to. I nearly swear under my breath, but Mom’s injunction rises to my mind, like always. Profanity is the crutch of the ignorant. Gah.

“Chancy.” Voron stops in front of me and offers a half bow.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys to quit with the bowing?” I hate it.

“At least one more time, your highness,” Kegan says, offering a half bow of her own.

“I guess Lark doesn’t bow anymore?” Voron asks.

“Anymore?” I ask. “She never bowed. Unless you count the times she did it mockingly.”

“You’ll miss having one person around who never bows,” Lark says.

“I’m pretending you aren’t leaving,” I say.

“Since we’re being placed next week, you can’t pretend much longer,” Lark says. “What are you two requesting?”

Voron groans. “Political liaison. Dad insists it’s a perfect fit for me.”

More like perfect for his schmoozy father. Voron’s going to hate it.

“How about you?” Kegan asks Lark. “I heard you wanted Security.”

Lark shrugs. “Yeah, but I don’t want guard duty or attack force, which is the problem, so my family’s pushing me to apprentice for Uncle Maxmillian.”

“I’d love an exciting assignment like intelligence too,” Kegan says. “But as a fifteenth gen, I’ve got less than no chance.”

Lark sighs, but before she can say anything, I cut her off. “You could challenge someone,” I say.

“But who?” Kegan asks. “I’d have to defeat someone top level for it to help, and I’m mediocre at personal combat.”

“If you beat me, you’d be placed first,” I say.

Kegan shakes her head. “And get carved up like a turkey for my efforts? No thanks.”

“She’s not that tough,” Lark says. “Hardly ever trains.”

A surreptitious glance shows me Edam’s listening from around the corner. Perfect.

“I’m not tough, huh?” I ask. “You couldn’t take me.”

“How would anyone know? No one’s ever seen either of you fight.” Voron crosses his arms. “I’d pay to see that match. I bet a lot of us would.”

I arch one eyebrow. “You’d pay to watch me stab my friend? You’re sadistic.”

He grins. “Guilty.”

“Well I don’t know about Kegan, but I could take you for sure,” Lark says.

“Oh please.” I cross my arms. “You couldn’t take me with one hand tied behind my back.”

Lark raises one eyebrow. “I train every morning, and you watch television every chance you get. Which one of these things makes it likely you’ll defeat me?”

That’s actually not a lie. Heat rises in my cheeks again, maybe because I know Edam’s listening. “Even so, I’m third in line for the throne. I’d destroy you.”

Lark throws a hand up on her hip. “Destroy me, huh? Or maybe you wouldn’t. And if I beat you, maybe you’ll spend less time watching television and more time training. Your mom might thank me.”

“You sound just like her,” I say.

“Judica would gloat if she pummeled you,” Lark says, “but I’d only do it to teach you a lesson.”

“Pummeling me?” I raise one eyebrow in irritation. “Ha.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Lark’s eyes flash and she lifts her chin.

“You’ll do what?” I ask.

“Chancery Divinity Alamecha, I challenge you,” Lark says.

Voron’s jaw drops, and he swears. Obviously his dad hasn’t pounded the same proscription on profanity into his head that my mom has.

“You wouldn’t dare fight me,” I say. “Because when you lose, you’ll look unbelievably silly.”

Lark lifts her chin and strides toward the Security office. “I’m serious, and I’ll prove it right now.”

She pushes through the door and pins Edam with a pointed look. “I’d like to record a challenge. Lark ne’Lyssa Alamecha challenges Chancery Divinity Alamecha.”

I can’t quite help from inching close enough to see Edam’s perfect face with total clarity. He may be my evil twin’s boyfriend, but there’s no law against appreciating flawless, unparalleled beauty. His close-cropped blond hair gleams, even in the dull office lighting. His chiseled jawline, his aquiline nose, his full lips, all of them working together to create the most heart-stopping face I’ve ever seen. If I stand too close, he’ll hear my heart pounding and he’ll know. So I stay in the hallway.

And Judica doesn’t chop my head off for ogling her boyfriend. At least, not today.

Lark watches as he writes our names down and then ducks out of the office. When she leaves, Edam’s cerulean eyes lift rapidly. He catches me staring at him longingly. Shoot.

I snap my mouth closed and spin on my heel to lope toward the breakfast room where Mom’s probably waiting. Lark owes me for that nonsense. My life is hard enough without losing mismatched challenges and being outed for secret crushes.

“Chancery,” a deep voice behind me says. My heart skips a beat, and I hope he didn’t notice. The hall is utterly empty though, so I don’t like my chances. How did Voron and Kegan disappear so quickly?

I pivot to face him and nearly trip over Cookie. “Edam.” Why did he chase me down? Was I that obvious?

“I set your challenge with Lark for eleven a.m. today, but you left so fast I couldn’t confirm whether that time will work, Your Highness. Are you accepting her challenge?”

I frown. “Don’t call me that.”

“I apologize, Your Highness. I tried calling you properly first, but you didn’t reply.”

He thinks I’m objecting to his use of Chancery. I want to sink into the floor. “No, I mean, don’t call me ‘your highness.’ I hate it.”

“You’re second in line to the throne.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m plain old Chancery. I’m not the heir, so you don’t need to call me anything but my given name.”

“Fine. Chancery, then.” He draws out the syllables in my name in a low tone that makes my shoulders feel tight.

I want to hear him say it again. Which is monumentally stupid. “Right, but the point is, eleven is fine. I’ll be there. But for now, I’m late for breakfast with my mother.”

Edam salutes me and straightens his impossibly broad frame. “I won’t keep you then, just Chancery.”

My stomach flips again. I wish he would keep me. I inhale a deep, ragged breath. I’m a mess today. It must be nerves. I’ve never fought anyone, much less in public. Mom’s going to freak out. “Any last-minute tips for someone who’s never fought in an official capacity in her life?”

Edam’s eyebrows rise. “You’re not off book yet?”

I shake my head. “Most people aren’t, not until well into their twenties.”

“You aren’t most people, your high—er, Chancery. I assumed— but I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Lark’s going to murder me, isn’t she?”

Edam’s eyebrows draw together. “I don’t believe she’s training in melodics.”

“Nope. Her mother argues with mine frequently about the benefits of cladius and limitations of melodics. That’s why Mom agreed to let Judica start there. Lyssa says cladius is easier to master, which is better—”

“Judica started there so she could protect herself from birth, as heir.”

I nod. “You think melodics is antiquated?”

Edam crosses his arms. “I don’t, no.”

My eyebrows draw together. “You trained in melodics?”

“No, but my mother did. She was formidable. It’s a subtle, refined, nearly lost art form.”

I scowl at him. Art form? “My mom trained in melodics.” I really hate that I’m going to have to throw this fight. It’s just going to bolster all the detractors’ arguments against Mom’s preferred, but currently unpopular, fighting method.

“I have the utmost respect for your mother, both as my Empress, and as a warrior.” Edam’s eyes haven’t left mine.

I should walk away, but I can’t. Once, when I wasn’t even three years old, I popped a habanero pepper into my mouth. I didn’t know whether to spit it out and cry, or close my eyes and savor the pain. Being around Edam is like that, except there’s no chance I’d ever spit him out.

“Chancy,” Mom calls from down the hall, “you’re late.”

Edam bows his head and departs so quickly I don’t even have time to admire his retreating form before he’s rounding the corner. Mom never misses a beat, so I can’t moon over Judica’s boyfriend or she’ll notice immediately. I ruffle the fur on Cookie’s head and jog over to the small dining room where we always have breakfast.

Mom takes her usual seat, and I drop into mine next to her. “How’d the party planning go?”

Mom rolls her eyes. “I told Angel no lemon cake, but did she listen?”

I lift my eyebrows. “Really?”

Mom sighs. “Technically, she says she did. She made an orange cake with chocolate frosting, which is basically lemon’s first cousin.”

“Oh,” I say, “but that’s my favorite.”

“And if it were your birthday, that would make sense.”

I watch as my mom picks up her napkin. Tomorrow she’ll be nine-hundred years old, which is old, even for us, but you’d never know to look at her. Her chestnut hair shines, her light golden skin luminesces, and her nearly violet eyes sparkle like she’s only been alive three or four centuries.

Today the world’s human rulers who report to her are coming to pay their respects: The United States’ President, Senate and House leaders, the British Prime Minister and the President of Mexico to name a few. Not many humans know about us, but obviously the ones we use to administer the government as our figureheads do. Tomorrow, the heads of the other evian families will show up for her real party. She’s a little stressed over all the details. Sometimes when she’s anxious, she focuses a little too much on things that don’t matter.