The Scarlet Empress (37 page)

Kyber’s smile was one of plain, unadulterated happiness, for under the stars on that magical midsummer’s eve, the road to adventure beckoning before him, he knew, without a doubt, that there was no other place he’d rather be than in the arms of his “Scarlet Empress.”

Not long after the birth of the first Han princess, the ailing emperor finally succumbed to the killer proteins that ravaged his body. He passed away, gently and without fanfare, late one night, allowing Crown Prince Kyber to step up to the throne he had unofficially occupied for years.

For the coronation events, Bree, Ty, and Ty’s family were put up at the grand palace in Beijing. Even after experiencing the glitter and glamour of Cam’s royal wedding to Kyber, Bree wasn’t prepared for the all-out extravagance of the coronation ceremony.

“I admit I’m a little starstruck,” she whispered in Ty’s ear as they entered the grand ballroom for a reception.

His fingers brushed down her back, bared by her lowcut gown. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m a lot starstruck. Though I have to say I like having friends in high places.”

A slim hand on her shoulder cut short Bree’s laugh.

“Cam!” She gave her friend a hug. Cam was dressed in scarlet from head to toe, in a gown to die for. She looked gorgeous, but most of that, Bree knew, was from being in love—both with her husband and with their new baby daughter. “I have something for you,” Cam said.

Bree glanced at her empty hands and frowned. “A Snickers bar? Almond Joy? Cheese Nips?”

Cam rolled her eyes. “You have a one-track mind. Ty, I have to borrow her for a little bit. Sorry, no boys allowed.”

Bree waved good-bye to her amused-looking husband. Then she linked arms with her friend as they left the party. “So, what does the empress have in mind?”

Cam’s eyes sparkled. “You’ll see,” she said in a singsong voice.

“I’m suspicious.”

“You always are. You always wanted to shake the gifts at Christmas, too. I hated that you hated surprises, but this time, sugar, you have no choice.”

Cam broke away to pull open a pair of massive, carved double doors, thousands of years old. They revealed a sweeping balcony open to the glittering city lights of Beijing. Cam lived in this luxury every day, Bree thought. Did you get used to it after a while? Bree preferred her laid-back ranch life—pancake breakfasts and jeans. Cam, though, seemed perfectly at home in this lavish palace. It probably didn’t hurt to have the man you adored close by and feeling the same way about you. That, Bree understood. Where Ty was, was home.

Bree’s eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the mellow light of hanging lanterns. When they did, she saw a couple of dozen women standing alone or in groups, women
of many ethnicities, wearing a variety of clothing that told her they hailed from a number of different lands. They greeted Bree with expressions ranging from friendly curiosity to downright awe.

“It took a bit of doing,” Cam explained, “but I finally waded through the red tape to get them here.” Her mouth gave a saucy twist. “It helps when your husband is an emperor.”

Bree’s heart fluttered. “Are these . . . ?” Speechless, she waved a hand at the circle of women.

“Yes. They’re the women whose stories came to light in the months after the revolution ended. Each of them has been brought here to receive recognition for their acts of courage and . . . well, basically their guts. Each of them shared in the transformation of the world. There are more, of course, many more, but these were the ones we know about.” Cam waved her arm in a sweeping arc. “Presenting . . . girl power at its best.”

Bree brought her shaking hands together, lacing her fingers in front of her. Cam lowered her voice. “They want to meet you.”

She shook her head. “I want to meet
them.
” Even now, after all had been said and done, she felt awkward in her role as hero, always surprised to find those who idolized her. She shunned the public eye and was happiest tucked away in Montana with Ty, even though her reclusive lifestyle threatened to turn her into even more of a legend.

“You inspired me,” a very young, pretty woman said, approaching first. She had a quiet manner about her, but without any shyness. Tall but delicately built, with a long dark ponytail streaming down her back, she offered Bree
her hand. “Cai Randolph,” she supplied confidently at Bree’s questioning stare.

Recognition jolted Bree’s memory. “Cai, yes.” She was the “anchor,” the techie half of a Quandem, a pair of elite operatives trained for covert military action. Neural implants allowed the woman to sit back in a control chair and feed information to her partner, whom Bree learned she’d later married. Now
that
was a love story. “You were instrumental in my capture. I do believe you zapped me with a neuron fryer that day. Unless that wasn’t you.”

“Sorry about that,” the woman said a bit ruefully.

“As a rogue hacker, you were even more instrumental in my escape from Fort Powell. You shut down the prison. I simply walked away from my cell and out the door.”

“It was the least I could do, once I learned you’d been set up.”

“You make it sound simple, while I know it couldn’t have been. You were member of the UCE military, acting on orders. In the Raft Cities, you did what you thought was your duty, but once you saw the truth, you followed your conscience. That couldn’t have been easy. I admire your courage; I admire you.”

Cai, refreshingly humble, acknowledged her praise with a simple nod. She was so young, Bree thought, and so brave.

Another woman approached—shorter, compact, in great physical shape. On the lapel of her red suit-dress, a gold maple leaf sparkled. In contrast, an ankle bracelet woven of leather and clearly of Native American design peeked out from under the hem of her long skirt. “Day Daniels,” Bree said.

“Banzai Maguire.” Respect filled the Mountie’s eyes,
one of which was hazel and one green. “Your revolution came.”

Bree nodded. “We looked to the north . . .”

“And we were there to help,” Day whispered.

A spontaneous hug overcame them. They gripped each other, emotion running high. And when they finally broke apart, they clasped each other’s hands.

Bree saw Cam wiping away a tear then, and she lost it. She was feeling especially emotional. The surprise reunion with these women whose exploits and selfless acts she’d tried to piece together from a number of reports was almost too much. “You are to be admired for your bravery at the border when it all came tumbling down,” Bree told the proud Canadian.

Another woman approached to pay her respects. She, too, was very young, though something in her bright, miss-no-detail gaze made her seem older. A slit in her glittery dress gaped slightly, giving Bree a glimpse of a feminine garter—and the deadly blade she’d slipped behind it.

“It’s been a long time, Jenny.”

“Too long.”

They embraced. Bree gave an extra-long hug to the woman who’d married Kyber’s half brother, D’ekkar. “You saved the Voice of Freedom from silence when you enabled it to transmit from Australia. To do it, you returned there at the risk of imprisonment—or worse.”

“Worse.” Jenny cocked a grin. “Definitely.”

Bree shook her head. “If you hadn’t gotten the Voice of Freedom up and going again, I don’t know what might have happened.”

“We’d have done it. Somehow, someday.” Cam waved
a hand expansively at the circle of women looking on. “Look at them, all of them. Have you any doubt that we would have won in the end?”

Bree smiled through her tears. “Good prevails.”

“What you mean is, no good deed goes unpunished.”

At that, the women laughed, a sound that lifted Bree’s heart. This would be a high point in her life; she knew it with absolute surety. And she planned to enjoy every last minute of it. “Come on, ladies. There are more introductions to be made.”

She led the way toward the bar, where Cam gathered up a half case of extremely rare vintage champagne. Bree did the pouring into the proffered glasses. “Drinks all around. We’re going to have ourselves a little victory celebration, just us women. And then we can talk. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life—rather, in my
lives
—it’s that men, God bless ’em, don’t have a monopoly on war stories. . . .”

And so it was that New America was born and the world was renewed along with it. As the years passed, the economy stabilized, spurring growth and a gradual return to prewar prosperity.

That’s not to say there wasn’t unrest; as you well know, our new nation would experience many rocky years. However, because of the revolution, the world was now a better place. A
safer
place.

Thomas Paine, that brilliant man, the persuasive eighteenth-century campaigner for American independence, once wrote:
We have it in our power to begin the world anew.

And so, as best we could, we did.