Free Until Again by Lou Aronica Page A

believed was the involvement of the Thorns, were being attended to in other ways. The question was whether she possessed the skills necessary even to handle this most basic level of statecraft. She was utterly untried, and in most ways utterly unprepared. One simply didn’t train for a role one was unlikely to fill for dozens of years.
    Staff had put up portraits of her mother and father just inside the doorway at Miea’s request. In a rare moment of clarity she’d directed them to do so, realizing she wanted those images as reminders of their legacy every time she left her office. Miea walked up to the pictures now, settling for a moment on her mother’s unassailable visage before turning to her father.
    “They’re gathering in the hall right now, Dad. What do you think they’re expecting of me? They can’t believe that I can be you or Mom, can they? The last time I addressed the Kingdom Congress was three years ago when I reported on my summer out in the fields of Jonrae. People smiled at me sweetly that day, as though I was a precocious child.”
    Miea bowed her head for a moment and let the memory fill her. She’d complained bitterly to her father that afternoon about the kingdom not taking her seriously, positing that they’d forever see her as a “cute little kid.”
    “This happened much too fast for all of us, didn’t it? I’m no more ready to lead them than they are ready to be led by me. And there’s so much we won’t talk about today. The problems with the Thorns didn’t end because they sent an emissary to your funeral. The emissary might even have been a spy. For all I know, they’re planning an invasion because they think we’re impossibly weak right now – because they’ve weakened us. I know there’s no indication yet that they had anything to do with the destruction of the bridge, but we’re going to find out they were involved; I’m sure of it.”
    Miea took a deep breath, realizing she was at risk of releasing every emotion she’d been storing since Amelan told her the unthinkable news. She couldn’t do that now, not when she needed to bear up under the gaze of those gathered for the Kingdom Congress.
    She closed her eyes and at the same time leaned forward, finding her forehead pressed against her father’s picture.
    “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. She didn’t lift her head immediately, finding some comfort in the familiarity of this pose. If she let her imagination run, she could imagine that the glass she pressed against now was the glass of the screen she used to communicate with her parents when she was at university. That she was enacting the silly little ritual she’d accidentally begun with her father when she first went away to school.
    “They admire you more than you realize. They always have.”
    Miea heard the voice inside her head with such clarity that her father could have been standing next to her with a hand on her shoulder.
    “What you interpreted as amusement was marveling at your poise, polish, and brilliance at such a young age. I tried to explain this to you then, but, well, dear, you aren’t always easily mollified.”
    Miea understood that she herself was putting these thoughts in her brain. How was that possible, though, when she didn’t believe these things?
    “I’m worried, Dad,” she said with her eyes still closed and her head still pressed close to her father.
    “Just remind them that you are wise, Miea. For now, that’s all they need from you.”
    Miea took another deep breath and was about to ask another question when she heard a knock on her door. She turned to the sound to see her chief aide entering the room.
    “The people have gathered, Your Majesty,” Sorbus said.
    “Thank you, Sorbus. I’ll be right there.”
    He left, and Miea looked back at the pictures, touching each of the faces gently. The talk had helped, regardless of its provenance.
    “Until again, Mother and Dad. I love you.”
    A few minutes later she