Saxifrage Fire

001

The society would kill her sister in the morning. 

She could see it in the way the girl danced. The trembling manner of her limbs was a symptom of a forbidden thing called fear. Alexius, who was five years her junior, was confessing her imperfections in a botched ballet on the stage below, and all she could do was watch.

Alethea smoothed her white dress across her lap studying the way the rim cascaded longer in the back creating a perfect rippling of fabric. She would have the maid dry clean it so she might wear it the next morning for her sister's trial. 

She looked up in time to witness Alexius stumble and jolted in her seat. There was a red flash from the monitor implanted in her wrist so she discretely read the data that shone through her brown skin. Heart Rate: 102. Cortisol Levels: High. She glanced to her left to be sure her parents hadn't noticed. 

Her mother's eyes were locked on her youngest daughter analyzing her movement. While her father was studying the architecture of the ceiling- built by his forefathers- utterly disinterested in the finer art of the performance or the performer.

There was a logical explanation for Alethea's reaction, of course. Alexius was her sibling, her closest genetic relative, so it was biologically sound that she should react adversely to her pending termination.

She cut her eyes up at the highest pew which was adorned with ropes of Saxifrage Flowers: white mandalas of petals. There, in among the granite perch, sat The Empress with her pale features and perfect symmetry. Genetic mods had smoothed the aging woman's skin to be like fair pedals, and her white hair cascaded to her waist. Being the heir of the Atlas family, she knew the Empress personally and had even been allowed to call her Mother Dema, instead of 'your grace.'

What would happen if she, as the prized Atlas heir, was defective instead of her shadow of a sister? Would they dismiss the data, or would they inject her with poison and watch as her eyes fluttered shut? What if the data had been switched? It wouldn't take more than a few hours of code mangling to leave enough false evidence for the court. It would damn her parents but damn her parents anyway.

She felt a tightness in her chest and her monitor flashed again. She couldn't take her eyes off the ghostly woman on the higher pew who had known no siblings, whose data was immaculate.

The young woman who accompanied the Empress waved. Euthalia was a spitting image of her Mother: pale as snow with eyes of ice, but they might as well be species apart.

Alethea waved back but dropped her hand as a criminal thought crossed her mind. Euthalia was a General now and she had communication with the enemy Primals beyond the city walls. Maybe, she could help Alexius escape before she was put to death. At least then, Alex could live. No. That was ridiculous, and Euthalia's primal vices did not lean towards mercy anyhow; the field mice she'd gutted as a kid would testify.

Her mother grabbed her wrist and studied her stats.

"Alethea, is everything alright?"

Her mother's calm eyes instilled sense into her. What had she been thinking? This code-hacking, switching data with her defective sibling, was nonsense.

She sighed to tame her hazardous nerves.

"Yes. I'm fine, Mother."

The applause started in perfect sequence as Alexius rose from the floor and bowed.

Alethea and her parents were swept away with the crowd of fellow elites towards the grand hall and then the tall glass doors that led out into the night.