“My money is on Senator Dulvia of Tar. She is aggressive and power-hungry. Of all of them, she wants it the most, yet she’s shrewd enough to realize that she is the least qualified for it. That sense of hidden inferiority is priceless. If she ascends, she’ll spend years stomping out any opposing factions in the conservative block. She will go after anyone brighter than her to destroy the competition before it has a chance to blossom into a threat. By the time she consolidates her power base, Kosandion will have everything in place to steer her in the direction of his choosing, and the Conservative Alliance overall will be weaker, less creative, and easier to handle. Dina, you have a strange expression on your face.”

“I’m relieved that I am who I am.”

“And not my niece?” Caldenia smiled.

“Yes.”

“You are a child of innkeepers. You were born into this life, and your every experience contributed to your education. By the time you reached adulthood, you were an expert innkeeper. Kosandion and I were born to be fit to rule well. I do not mean this in a pompous way of entitlement. I mean it as a statement of fact. We were genetically enhanced with a careful selection of traits that made us capable administrators and nuanced leaders. We were educated in the way of governance from the moment we opened our eyes. We are highly specialized, skilled workers, bred for the purpose of leading interstellar nations, and we have an added incentive of painful death in case of failure that drives us to excel.”

“The responsibility must be crushing.”

Caldenia sighed. “It is, at times. But then this is what we do. And let’s face it, tearing down your enemies is a great deal of fun. You are a picture of restraint, but a part of you enjoys flexing your power when the occasion requires. Kosandion is much the same. An embodiment of self-discipline and decorum until it’s time to stab and rip the still-beating heart out of the chest of his enemy. It’s just that his stabs take a great deal of work and much preparation.”

The boy planned it beautifully… There wasn’t just admiration in her voice. There was familial pride.

“I have some bad news for Kosandion,” I said.

Caldenia stopped. “How bad?”

I paused. We’d come to an intersection of several paths, where they joined into a round patio.

“Politically difficult.”

“Tell me.”

I did.

Midway through, Caldenia started pacing. It was a violent movement, fueled by rage. She’d picked up a small branch somewhere, about the width of my finger, and she flicked her thumbnail across it as she walked back and forth, slicing perfect little sections off with each slide of her thumb. She was like the proverbial caged tiger, flicking her tail, looking for an opening.

I finally finished.

“You must tell him now.”