Kyrgyztan had the cold of Lesya and the heat of Morocco. I could feel by skin burn as it froze. The sun bore down on us as the empress spoke of green energy, a great talking point for the political climate of the country, but a horrible talking point for those who had less than ten hours of sleep.

The Kyrgyz people were kind and traditional. Out of the two, Lesya only had one down. Although she was kind in the bluntest of ways, she was never much for convention... apparent in her proposals to me.

I shook my head at myself. These thoughts were not for this moment. I had to keep my eyes open, I had to keep them on the guards around me, the people inside our perimeter.

I had to memorize each exit, and the exit we would take if someone were to try something. I had to know what was behind of the curtain-less windows of the buildings surrounding the courtyard. I had to know each intonation, each rise and fall of her voice to know if she needed something, if she needed to leave.

And I had to know who was close enough to kill her. That thought raised the hair on my nape.

There were the thirty, front and second row, with Tino beaming with pride. Theo was there as well, caked with makeup from the bruises he still had. The whole lot was a good bunch, a nice pool of possible kings. Though, I knew some of them were already out of the running.

Nevertheless, they were not threats.

Except for Guinto. He was clean - too clean for someone like himself.

As I checked everything from my mental list, my eyes caught something my mind did not process soon enough. I looked at the blond woman standing right below Lesya. Aside from her vow to do no harm, I had no guarantee she wouldn't kill the empress. But I couldn't think that either. The Pentagon breaks if there is no trust.

But my eyes rolled down her body and saw distinctively how her clothes were looser than usual.

Weapon?

"Ji Su." I said under my breath over the direct comm I had to the eyes of the operation. "She-"

"It's nothing." She quipped. I could almost hear her roll her eyes at me.

But it wasn't nothing.

I found my way to her, Lesya stuttering a little as she saw me move closer to the podium. I locked eyes with her tyrian orbs and reassured her with a look. Everything is fine. I said through them. Lesya knew that was a lie.

She went on, however, as I placed my hand on the woman's back. "Time to switch." I told the guard, keeping my hand behind her, feeling for a gun with the slightest touch.

She nodded.

Natasha turned her back and bowed to the empress above her, and in that second before I pulled my arm back, where I felt her torso against my forearm, I realized she was pregnant.

×+×

In the late afternoon, the sun was still beaming down at the fields of the mighty tower called the Burana. We were taken there by the new president for an afternoon of games and food and dancing.

I sat beside Lesya as she ate the Kyrgyz food she found appetizing; carcasses and liver sausages.

"For your health, soldier!" She said as she tried shoving a lamb's eyeball into my mouth. What was she doing? Just this morning, she was somber, quiet and insecure. Now she was a ball of sunshine... well except her eyes.

I looked at her like she grew a second head. She placed the eyeball back to her setting and leaned in. I gave her my left ear. "If you eat this, I will personally make sure you have front-row seats to the Lesyan fashion show of your choosing."

"Front row, back row, what difference is there?"

"-and I'll buy you that watch you like, the old one from the limited collection at the museum-"

"I can afford it."

"-and we can have a two-day vacation in the Pacific-"

We always talked about that trip and never really made it. One time there was a storm, the other, there was a siege, and we just kind of forgot about it. I looked at her face, the small smile she tried hiding, her tired eyes, and knew that she needed the trip more than I did.

"Make it three."

"Done." I took her spoon, scooped the wobbly eye into it and shoved it into my mouth. Just as I swallowed it, she raised her crossed fingers from behind her back, her smile beaming, and I swore I would have spat it out if it were not already going down my esophagus.

"Okay, now you need to eat the ear-" She continued.

"Fool me once..." I shook my head. I wanted to vomit.

The corners of her eyes crinkled as she guffawed. It was nice seeing her old self.

It was unfortunate that I had to bring her new self back. "There's something I need to ask you."

"Hmm?" She downed a liver.

"Well, the people of the pentagon never have their own families, right? We get kicked when we do?"

Just as she was on the verge of answering, Akim came into the tent where the empress and the rest of the thirty were eating. "The riding games will be starting shortly."

She was supposed to be the president of the privy council, but to be honest, she was an equerry. There was not much pomp in being a glorified secretary. The whole privy council was basically a team of assistants with good education and family names dating back three hundred years. At least she took pride in it.

I mean, I was a glorified nanny so who was I to judge?

"Is it a Kyz Kumay?" The blonde American said, butchering the word.

"There are fifteen steeds."

"I shall ride." Lesya declared with a smile.

"Is that allowed?" I heard someone say. It was ignored.

So, this was why she was happy. At least she wasn't going insane.

It was supposed to be a Kyz Kumay, just like all the past Kyrgyz riding races of all the past marriage selections, but just as she did with most traditions, she didn't follow. I saw the glint in her eye.

"Is there anything I can say to-"

"Nope." She said. "I'm taking down a man." She was looking at Theo. I thought she would murder him.

"He's already been taken down, Lesya." I reminded her.

"You took him down."

"Is there a difference?"

She stuttered. "Well... no not really but-"

There were reasons why she shouldn't ride; injury, falling, paralysis... but I knew even if I aired those concerns, she wouldn't listen.

"Be careful." I whispered.

"Just say 'good luck' instead." She said, adjusting the pointed hat of her beldemchi.

"Be careful." I shot her a pointed look.

×+×

"What the heck is she doing?" James asked me through the comm. "That's not in the schedule."

"You tell her that." I said under my breath. There was nothing anyone could do once she had that glint in her eyes. She was like this sometimes... when things got bad. Things were going bad so frequently recently, though.

Some nights I would find her hugging Jazzy, crying into her fur silently. She would break down in her damp pajamas and smile too brightly in the morning as if nothing happened. Luckily for her, she never cried in public. It was a trait of the royals - no one ever saw them bleed, sweat, or cry.

That also meant they were seen like gods, and when you put someone on a pedestal, the slightest nudge could send them crashing.

Something nudged her on that train. Otherwise, she wouldn't be this happy. Not as happy as she was before.

She believed she could manifest happiness out of thin air even though I believed she just needed a therapist. This joy was not real, it was too bright to be real.

"Med, ready on standby." James said to Nat on the comm.

"Ready and on standby."

"I'll check the stable lad and the trainer, make sure she gets a stable horse." James said. "The saddler too."

"She rides bareback." I said.

"Over my dead body." He replied.

I shrugged, going to my position near the start and finish. If she needed to do this to feel better about herself, then so be it.

Much like most things in life except fashion, dancing, and riding a bike, Lesya was good at horseback. It wasn't much of a shock for someone who was born with unlimited resources to be proficient at something others could not even dream of.

"She's bareback." I heard James say. I muffled a chuckle.

I was closer to the line now where fifteen of the selected were steadying their horses. "Velez is going to win." I heard a young billionaire say. He was among the ones I knew would go home without a crown.

"The asshole?" Asked the Islander fascist, the one I hadn't yet made my mind about.

"The asshole." Billionaire confirmed. "He races and plays polo. This is a kyz, obviously, so."

Fascist seemed to consider it. "I'm betting on the empress."

My ears perked up at that. Lesya was a good rider, but far from perfection.

Even I wouldn't bet on her. She wouldn't even know he bet on her, so he wasn't really helping his chances at becoming king. And there I thought Islanders were smart.

"Three million?" Billionaire asked.

They shook on it.

The fascist was smirking with a spark in his eye I only ever saw one other person have.

Then the smirk went away.

I saw his eyes trail off into the distance, his mouth slowly opening in awe. I was there thinking his weightless brain gave out until I saw what he was staring at.

It was Lizaveta.

There was this thing that happened whenever she entered a room... something that happened even before she was an empress.

Of course, when world leaders arrive, the whole room temperature changes. But this was different. I think it had nothing to do with her being royal. It was just her... that made the world seem to gasp and stop and stare.

"Wow." The billionaire took the words out of my mouth. It was then that I realized I did not know his name and had no interest in knowing it, I had no interest in anyone except her.

While everyone was wearing polos and riding boots, Lesya was wearing traditional Kyrgyz garb in red and white. But that wasn't the only thing that made people stare. She was on an akhal-teke, a silvery gold horse the same shade as her hair.

Well if I hadn't seen her eat too much corned beef, enough to make her puke, stumble on her own feet for thinking too much, of wear a bedsheet to a funeral, I would have mistaken her for a goddess.

"Good afternoon!" She exclaimed atop the horse. "Today we shall have a chabysh along the track laid out for us by President Kadyrov!"

"Shit." Someone from behind me said, actually knowing what that was.

"The winner shall be granted a permanent seat with me through each train ride until we arrive at New India!"

"What's a chabysh?" I heard the fascist ask.

"I thought it was the kissing game, Kyz Kumay..."

"I don't know what that is either..." Fascist said. Of course, he didn't. With all the money his father illegally got from the government, he still managed to fail his son's education.

"And a chabysh is basically a race. Judging from the ages of the horses about six to twelve kilometers?"

"Has the empress ever ridden?"

The billionaire shrugged.

The jockeys, including Lesya lined up on the earthen track that circled the tower. She looked fairly uneasy, her back straight but taut waiting for the flag to drop, the only rider running bareback. Next to her was Antarctica, whispering something.

I didn't know what happened a few hours ago with them, but I saw the photos. They were together as the train arrived in Bishkek, and although they were laughing, she didn't seem to be comfortable. From where I stood, I could make out her face a little.

I saw her spit at him. For some reason, that made me very happy.

And then the flag dropped.

The hooves sounded like thunder rolling over the red flowers of the field. With every step I could hear someone's cheer. The people screamed and handshakes were made as I knew no rich boy would pass up the easy money of betting on other rich boys.

As expected, Velez was pulling first. The others were not bad, not by a long shot, but they were falling behind. I found myself leaning forward, squinting at Lesya. Her face was like carved marble, her resolve seen through her alight eyes.

"A pity, isn't it?" I heard the billionaire muse as I walked a bit closer to the railings.

"What?"

"She's got everything."

"What's to pity in that?" The fascist asked.

"She looks..." He shrugged. "You know."

I knew where the conversation was going, and I didn't like it. I felt the Islander stiffen. "Don't you want her? Isn't that why you're here?"

"Only a crown is worth marrying someone like her." The billionaire said. "Imagine what our children might look like."

Anger coursed through me, but I held it back. Soon the billionaire will find his billions gone... Or maybe just his testicles, whichever hurt him most.

"Ugly... If they unfortunately get genes from you." I heard the fascist said.

I kept my eyes straight, walking back up the small incline, making sure I was in a better view. The more distance I had between me and the billionaire, the better. I didn't want to kill anyone today.

Lesya was pulling third against a guy who won a Pulitzer last year, leaning forward, being one with her silvery horse, matching him step for step. I saw money, watches and jewelry exchange hands. It was obvious then - no one bet on her.

Then she was in second place, pulling for first. Theo Velez didn't even look back because he was winning. In the whole race, not once did he look like he'd lose.

But he did.

His sleek black thoroughbred whinnied and raised its muscular legs into the air, the tips of its shoes gleaming an orange red. Velez lost control as his horse bucked, hitting a fence, spiraling out of control.

In his frenzy, the empress passed him through the last few meters... the last few steps of the race...

And won.

She won!

I searched her face, wanted her eyes to find mine, but she wasn't looking at me. She was looking at the Islander with a mixture of shock and gratitude. His eyes mirrored my pride.

She crossed the line and raised her hands into the air, pumping them joyfully as all of us heard the combined groan of everyone who lost billions that one second.

But her victory only lasted a moment. One second, she was shining, as a black mass of muscle collided with her, and in the next moment Lesya was on the ground.