Redana no longer works among the Coherents.

She walks with the Magi now, listening to them, offering words of correction and advice in her melodious voice. She wears stately robes now, and her hair is bound up in the olive. The unpleasantness about the storm, the changed course— it is waved aside. What matters is that, despite the seeming contradiction of the orders, the Order carried them out, and that is to their credit.

She sits in state among the debates with a fan in one marble hand, and by lifting it on one side or the other she gives her judgment. This is the use of royalty, after all: through discernment, to take the many and make them one, to decide what direction the future will turn, to cause things to happen through hands that are not her own.

Redana has chosen a captain.

Now Dolce has a very capable second-in-command. Early in the morning and late at night she comes to him with lists, data, and reassurances. He has command of the vessel, and so Redana will make that smooth and simple for him. The first he hears of half the problems on the [i]Plousios[/i] is when Redana informs him, with that smooth and effortless elegance, that it has been taken care of.

Redana might not be as fun now, but at least she’s finally grown up. Isn’t it a relief? Some of the Coherents might grumble, certainly, but others might see her shine and know her to be come into her own at last: a star to chase until morning. Untouchable, distinct, sacred: set apart from the world of ordinary men and women.

And at odd hours, Redana sits in her renovated chambers, white marble and gold, the bed spartan, the wardrobe full of subtle variations, and she holds the cup of coffee between both cold palms and stares into the swirling veins in the stone while Skotos brushes her hair.

Skotos is always with her. It’s just that Skotos is not important. Not noteworthy. It is Skotos who carries the papers, Skotos who stands at her elbow, Skotos who brews the coffee. Skotos wears the saffron robe and their face is swallowed entirely by that hood.

If you don’t pay attention, you’ll miss that Skotos is in the room. They might not even be a person. Have you heard Skotos talk? Have they done anything not in anticipation of Redana’s needs? They’re an ornament, like Mynx or Bella, not their own person. And this is what they deserve. It is the only fitting punishment. Silent, servile, subordinate.

Skotos knows they deserve this. That’s why they sleep even less than the Princess. That’s why they fade unseen into the background. That’s why they make inedible food every morning and hang their head when Redana smoothly pushes the plate aside and gives them an encouraging smile. That’s why they are Skotos. They deserve nothing more.