“It’s a horse,” the Administrator said, stepping around the front of the beast, stroking its velvet nose and feeding an apple with the Mercer logo genetically engineered on the skin into its wide, clomping mouth. “Damn near impossible to find these days, but we have our ways.” His nondescript eyes met hers and he gave Ari a pleased smile. Even more intimidating was his outfit. Instead of his traditional Mercer-white suit, he wore a golden robe that smacked of spiritual significance; Merlin might call them dress robes.
He noticed her stare and smoothed his hands down his front. “We are quite a sight, but we had to dress up for your coronation. Honestly, we’ve been playing with pawns for so long, we forgot how fun it’d be to throw a little sovereign drama in. The people are just gobbling it up.”
“What?” Ari’s voice came out scraped. She glanced down at herself. She was wearing a suit of armor that was etched with glorious gold and silver filigree, a ferocious red dragon emblazoned on the chest.
The Administrator pointed to it. “The family crest of the Pendragons. A nice touch, isn’t it? That one was our idea, since you’re so determined to go all King Arthur with this little rebellion.”
Ari regretted longing for proper armor earlier; she should have remembered that wanting things led to Mercer. She touched the sheath on her hip. At least Excalibur was at her side, although she doubted the sword would have allowed them to take it from her. “Where am I?”
“On Heritage. It’s only been a few days since your stunt on Old Earth. Your little band was in a state. Took us quite a while to shine you all up.” He winked. “To make you presentable for the festivities.”
“Where are my friends?”
“You mean your knights, King Arthur… King Ara? Whatever.” He flourished a hand behind her, and Ari looked over her shoulder to find five more horses in a tight formation. On one side, Gwen sat, side-saddle, gagged, wearing the most beautiful dress Ari had ever seen. It was shining even in the low light of this strange, closed-in space, a million diamonds riveting the seams—none of them as bright as the fear in Gwen’s brown eyes.
Behind her, Jordan sat with her head slumped forward, unconscious. Her armor had been polished to a mirror sheen, and Ari watched in a sort of slow-motion terror as a Mercer associate shot something into Jordan’s leg and her eyes began to flutter open.
On the other side of the formation, Kay sat astride a chestnut horse that seemed extra nervous. Ari tried not to stare too long into her brother’s dark expression. He was flame-cheeked and furious. The kind of furious that could be a problem.
Beside him, Lam sat with their dreads perfectly placed, a leather suit of armor to match Jordan’s metal one. They were not gagged, but a purple bruise down one side of their jaw implied that they’d already learned not to speak. Val was behind them, on the smallest brown horse. His face was streaked with tears, an unnerving juxtaposition to the finely pressed tunic of the queen’s adviser.
But where was Merlin?
Ari remembered him going down… Morgana’s prediction…
“Merlin,” Ari said, spinning back to face the Administrator. “Morgana. Where are they?”
“Your magical duo is under surveillance. We don’t quite know what they’re capable of, so best to keep them sedated. Don’t you think? We wouldn’t want anything to ruin the big day. Your victory, Ara Azar.”
Ari echoed his word as if it were her greatest crime. “Victory?”
“Indeed. You so desperately had to be alive and tell everyone about our Old Earth exploits… and our Ketchan one. Ugh. It’s been a human resources disaster.” He waved his hand. “But we’re rolling with it. Are you ready?”
“For what?”
He sighed and threw in a slight growl. “For the big event! All three Mercer galaxies are watching via our pay-per-view ceremonial channel, as well as a packed arena of a million of the most loyal Mercer customers.” He pointed toward the wall they were facing. Ari could tell now that it was a series of rolling doors, the kind that would open grandly and spit out Ari and her friends into the middle of a universe-wide televised pageant.
So that was the chattering drumming she kept hearing. A million people.
“You, Ara Azar, are about to be crowned Mercer’s king. As much as I don’t enjoy sharing the role as figurehead, we admit when allowances must be made.” His eyes moved to Gwen’s. “We’re even giving you Lionel to rule from. It’ll be restocked, a Mercer-sanctioned medieval planet, where all our customers will be encouraged to vacation. A taste of rebellion! Of hope and the past, and the one true king. Blah, blah. You know the story they’re feverish for. Give it to them.”
“Why would you do that? Why not execute me and send your message of unchallenged dominance?”
His eyes flashed with impatience. “Because martyrs kill the economy. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement. Why must we always convince you of what you need to do?” His fury lit up Ari’s nerves like a circuit board of warnings. She’d never seen him approach a snapping point, and all of a sudden, she did not want to know what that looked like. He clapped his hands once. The crowd of associates parted for a few guards bearing two bound women. Ari’s moms.
They had not been prepared for a televised ceremony. Their clothes looked unwashed, their skin sallow, their expressions dim, maybe even drugged. As if Mercer had had them for a long time. “But they were supposed to be—”
“Safe? Did someone tell you that?” He took a deep breath. “We had them tell your brother they were safe, of course. We had to keep an eye on all of you. Do you know how much we watch you all, Ara?” He laughed. “Let me demonstrate. We were watching you in that rubber knight suit in the middle ages section last year. We were watching you in that disco when you met your magician. We were watching you weep over those piles of Ketchan bones, and we saw you planning our demise. Every square inch of it. We are always watching. That’s what a good provider does. That’s how we anticipate your needs.”
He poked her with one finger on her shining suit of armor, and smiled. “See? We even knew you needed this. Doesn’t it fit perfectly?”
Ari would never admit that truth. She looked beyond him, to where her parents seemed ready to die. “So you’re going to make me do this by threatening my parents?”
The Administrator looked offended. “Oh, no. They are here to keep your brother in line. He’s been a handful. The lives of the entire population of Lionel will keep Gwen in line. And we have those two to keep each other behaving.” He flicked his fingers at Val and Lamarack. “We’ve got something on everyone. We always do.”
“And what about me?”
“Oh, you’re easy. You’d do anything for any of these people. The fact that we have them all as leverage is a bit greedy, but you’re such a family, aren’t you? We’d hate to split you up.”
Ari’s nerves tightened her stomach, her grip. “So, all I have to do is… be your king?”
The Administrator held out his hand, and an associate stepped forward to place a gaudy gold crown on it. Jeweled Mercer logos circled the band while the points rose ferociously into knife-sharp blades. A dozen of them. “Isn’t it beautiful? And quite a bit sharp.” He mimed pricking himself on one of the points, and then sucked his finger.
Ari didn’t have a chance to respond.
Kay was laughing. A hard, loud laugh that she’d heard a million times over the last ten years. The what a fucking idiot laugh.
“Kay—” she started, but the Administrator was faster. He snapped his fingers.
Two associates pulled Kay off the horse and dragged him over. He was still laughing, her dumbass brother. They released him, threw him on the ground and held his shoulders down with boots—and still Ari’s brother kept laughing. “Your entire plan revolves around my sister being able to lie? Oh, gods, you people really are morons.”
Ari surged between them, but associates dragged her backward, keeping her arms pinned out of reach of Excalibur. “Kay!” she growled. “Shut up!”
The Administrator laughed, too, a high sound to match Kay’s defiant humor. “Ridiculous! We know! But here we are.” He flipped the gaudy crown over in his hand and leaned close to Ari’s brother on the ground. Too close. “On behalf of the Mercer Company, we appreciate your role in this collaborative conquest.”