Chapter 41

An Audience with Royalty

The double doors opened without a sound, revealing a broad reception area.

Marble tiles gleamed under warm golden light, broken only by the shadowed silhouettes of two more guards in lacquered crimson armor. They stood like carved statues on either side of the far doors, hands resting lightly on polearms that shimmered along their edges.

Alexander sent out a pulse of Technopathy, brushing the room with his senses.

The guards carried cybernetic enhancements, but nothing like what he had felt before. Biological limbs and organs had been completely replaced with machinery, and even the armor itself thrummed faintly with power.

The walls held more secrets: hidden cameras, sensors, weapon turrets, directional explosives, and what felt like… shield generators. Tracing one camera feed into the chamber beyond, he found the same protections, but also a single advanced computer at the center. Out of respect, he chose not to probe further. For now.

In the middle of the room stood a crescent desk of polished black stone. Behind it, a tall man in a tailored suit rose as they approached. His skin was dark, hair clipped short. Even before he spoke, Alexander felt the weight in his measured gaze.

“Welcome,” he said, voice smooth but resonant, carrying a subtle pressure against the mind. “My name is Paul. I am the Queen’s Truthseeker.”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed slightly. What he was feeling was an active power.

Paul stepped out from behind the desk, hands clasped loosely. “My role is simple. I ensure that none who stands before the Queen of Hearts harbors any ill intent toward her, the Royals, or Astra Omnia itself. I will ask each of you a single question. Your answer will tell me what I need to know.”

Talia straightened, slipping her sunglasses into a pocket. Annie glanced at Alexander, eyebrow raised, but said nothing.

Paul stopped a pace away. The guards behind him stiffened in readiness. “The question is this: Do you hold any intent to harm the Queen, the Royals, or Astra Omnia?”

One by one, they answered.

“Only if forced to defend ourselves,” Alexander said, voice flat but firm.

“Nope,” Annie replied with a shrug.

“Of course not,” Augustus said, smiling faintly.

Talia answered with a steady, “No.”

Paul closed his eyes. Silence lingered, broken only by the soft shifting of cloth. Alexander felt the faintest brush at the surface of his thoughts, the tickle of a feather trailing past. Too subtle to grasp.

When Paul opened his eyes, his expression had not changed, but his shoulders eased slightly. He gave a short, formal bow.

“You are clear. The Queen will see you now.”

He gestured toward the far doors. The guards pivoted in perfect unison, each lifting a hand to push the doors open.

Alexander drew a breath, glanced at his team, then stepped forward. The guards let them pass without a word. The doors whispered shut behind them.

The chamber beyond was unlike anything they had seen on Astra Omnia so far.

Warmth greeted them first. A subtle comfort that seemed to hum through the crimson-threaded carpet beneath their boots. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves of dark wood, holding leather-bound tomes, alien artifacts, crystal decanters, and personal mementos that were not so easily classified. Some looked ancient; others gleamed with modern design. All were meticulously arranged and maintained.

At the far end, a vast viewport swallowed the wall, opening onto space. Earth hung slightly off-center, blue and magnificent. In front of it sat a desk of dark, lustrous wood, bearing nothing but a writing set and a single bottle of wine.

Behind it rested a high-backed leather armchair.

Seated in it: the Queen of Hearts.

She observed them as they entered the room and took everything in. As though savoring the entrance of players into a performance she had orchestrated. Dressed in layered scarlet silk with sheer accents that hinted at armor beneath, the woman herself appeared as if carved from black marble. One gloved hand rested on the chair’s arm; the other cradled a wineglass.

Most guests, Alexander suspected, would have been left to cross the full length of the room, sit, and wait.

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Grimnir, apparently, was not like most guests.

The Queen rose without haste, smoothing her gown with a gesture so fluid it seemed choreographed. She stepped out from behind the desk with the grace of someone certain every eye was on her, heels adding to an already imposing height.

Her presence filled the room, but her smile was warm and genuine.

“At last,” she said, voice rich and amused. “The infamous Grimnir. I must admit, darlings, I had expected ruthlessness… but not style.”

She reached Alexander first, offering both hands.

He accepted. She enclosed his hand in cool silk, but he could feel the immense strength hidden beneath the civility.

“So this is the one who whispers to machines. Who, if poor Benny is to be believed, will ignite a divine war and usher in a new era. I am so very pleased to meet you, dear.”

Alexander met her eyes—looking up to do so—with steady wariness. “Appreciate the invitation. Not so sure about the strange prophecies.”

Her smile curved knowingly. “I understand. But where you know machines, I know people. And I suspect Benny to be even more prophetic than he realizes. You burn with ambition… and something more.”

She released his hand and moved to Annie.

“The little wolf,” she murmured, raising a gloved hand near Annie’s cheek without quite touching. “So much heat in so small a frame. You are the one with the molten core, aren’t you?”

“Working on it,” Annie said, flashing a half-smile.

The Queen hummed softly, then turned as Talia stepped forward of her own accord.

“Ah, Wisdom,” the Queen said, delighted. “I do adore the quiet ones. They so often carry the sharpest knives.”

Talia inclined her head, silent.

Finally, the Queen came to Augustus. She paused. They were nearly eye to eye, even with her heels. Her gaze took in his posture, his suit, the sword cane. Something flickered in her expression. Perhaps curiosity, perhaps recognition. Maybe both.

“A showman. And something more,” she said. “I can always tell when someone has lost something they’ll never speak of. It defines them.”

Augustus extended his hand. “You see too much.”

She took it, eyes gleaming. “And yet I would look again.”

For a moment, silence stretched. Not long enough to be awkward. Just long enough to mean something was being weighed.

Then she turned, silk rustling, and gestured to the two armchairs before her desk.

“Please, sit. I apologize for the limited seating. There are only two chairs, I’m afraid.”

Annie’s mouth opened for a quip, but the Queen raised a finger.

“Not an oversight, my dear. It is by design. Such tricks have a way of reshuffling the dynamics of power amongst those I meet with.”

She reclaimed her seat with elegance, folding her hands as Alexander and Annie sat, with Augustus and Talia flanking them.

“But as I look forward to a long and…” She smiled slyly at Augustus. “…pleasant relationship with Grimnir, let us skip the usual games. Just this once.”

Alexander leaned back slightly. “I appreciate the courtesy, but you should know we don’t think you owe us your thanks. We went after Pandora and the others by choice.”

The Queen inclined her head. “Then I shall thank you for choosing well. You have removed a thorn from my side. Certain circles knew the Doorman approached them. That alone placed me in a delicate position once their madness spread. Regardless of your intent, you have done me a small favor.”

She opened a drawer and withdrew a slim black case. Inside lay three golden cards. She slid them across the desk.

“The Doorman honored his debt with a black card. Allow me to add these to your collection. Gold and black both carry privileges. Chief among them, waiving the ten-thousand-credit entrance fee and granting complimentary accommodations while aboard.”

Alexander accepted the cards with a nod, passing them to the others.

Annie’s fingers closed around hers and she immediately leaned forward, eyes alight. “So… the arenas?!”

The Queen’s laugh was soft, amused. “Several. Duels, exhibitions, even no-holds-barred contests for those who prefer something more visceral. Your gold card grants access to any you wish, though you must still pay the entry fees.”

Annie grinned wide, legs bouncing.

When her excitement calmed, Augustus spoke. “We’ll also need someone who can help us move certain goods. And a healer.”

The Queen rested her chin on one hand. “Considering what I suspect you have—and what Pandora’s crew was known to have stolen—there is only one broker worth your time. Not a fence, dear. A curator. And one who takes a healthy cut.”

A soft ping sounded in Augustus’s implant.

“I’ve sent you their details, as well as a list of reputable healers. Expect poor terms, given your urgency and the heat on those items.”

Augustus inclined his head.

“Almost anything you need can be found here,” the Queen continued. “I will see to it that those who matter know Grimnir is to be received, not shunned. Your cards will open most doors. Payment remains your responsibility.”

Talia tilted her head. “And information?”

The Queen tapped one manicured nail against her desk. A second ping sounded in Talia’s implant.

“Deck seventeen, eastern concourse. A specialty shop. Less known than the major players, but trust me… they are the best.”

Alexander turned the black card in his hand. “And the difference? Between black and gold, I mean.”

“The black card marks you as a VIP. You are assigned a concierge, not just while on Astra Omnia, but available to respond at any time you might request access. You do not wait for transport clearance; a concierge arrives immediately. Even gold card holders must wait in the queue.”

Alexander pocketed the card. “Useful.”

The Queen rose in one fluid motion, silk brushing leather. “I wish you many reasons to use it.”

They rose with her. She smiled warmly, winked once at Augustus, and clasped her hands.

“I look forward to hearing of your future accomplishments, darlings. You are… different. I think you may even surprise me.”

With a gesture, the guards pulled the doors open, light spilling from the reception hall beyond.

Alexander led the way out without looking back, though he was certain she was still watching.

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