“Lila, you had more time to indulge than I did.”
The mild censure, said so quietly, kicked Lila in the gut. Her mother had become the chairwoman of Wolf Industries at the age of fourteen due to her own mother’s early death. She’d survived intrigue and assassination attempts from several aunts as a teenager, then had Lila at seventeen, all to settle the chaos surrounding her and procure the stability of her family.
Luckily, a young, caring senator with a great deal of potential had made the job easier. Henri Lemaire, Lila’s father, had become a close friend and confidant of the young chairwoman. A decade ago, she had repaid that kindness by helping him become the American prime minister.
Lila couldn’t imagine becoming a mother at seventeen, nor could she imagine attending the execution of a few murderous aunts. But by the time her mother had become pregnant, she’d already run a company worth several billion credits. She’d done well for the family over the last thirty years, tripling their holdings and wealth. She’d also wormed her way onto the Saxony High Council of Judges, which made the Randolphs one of the most important families in the state. She’d even begun buying land in Unity, her eye already on the nation’s capital.
“You might not like it, Lila, but this is the only way I can keep you safe and ensure the security of the family. I have thousands to think about, not just the whims of my eldest daughter, a daughter who has put herself in a very precarious position. A chief does what she must to protect the family. This is what you must do to protect us now. If you refuse to accept your new role, then you will no longer be a part of this family.” The chairwoman refilled Lila’s glass, then looked her daughter in the eye. “What will it be? Will you finally become the prime you were always meant to be, or will you choose exile instead?”
Lila felt the morning room close in around her. It would have been easier if her mother had fixed her with the same look she reserved for the boardroom, but that expression did not lurk behind her eyes.
Pity filled them instead.
Lila looked away first. She returned to the table and snatched up her abandoned wine.
The chairwoman nodded, taking it for assent. “I’m sorry, Lila. I did try to let you live your life the way you wanted, but for all I know, my time is growing short. I’ve already outlived my mother. I have to think of the family and its future.”
“You’re not dead yet.”
“Much to your dismay, I’m sure. Your first act as prime is drawing near. You have an appointment at noon to have your birth control reversed.”
“Oracle’s light,” Lila whispered. Her mother’s demands had crystalized before her, like a fanged wolf, circling.
It growled, lunged, and snapped at her womb.
She clutched her belly, unnerved.
“Bullstow marks the end of legislative session on Friday, Lila. After the Closing Ceremony, the High Senate will throw their annual Closing Ball. You need to be ready.”
Lila drained her wine in one long swallow. During the Closing Ball, women from highborn families and very prosperous lowborn families selected men for the season, that time when every local, regional, and national legislature closed its doors. From mid-November until April, senators expended all their efforts on making babies, rather than laws, all in order to tie themselves to the people.
That wasn’t the only reason, of course. Men raised in Bullstow, especially senators, really loved having children. A senator didn’t consider himself remotely finished with his family unless he had at least a dozen, and none would breathe easily until he had a son to raise. But only heirs gave up their firstborn sons to government service, handing them off to their fathers and Bullstow soon after birth.
As such, heirs without sons were mobbed in every ballroom by well-dressed senators trying their best to tempt the lady into a season. Lila avoided highborn events for that reason, even though her role as heir was fuzzy and unofficial. Senators became quite frustrated when an heir claimed she did not want any children. It usually ended up as some extended legislative session where small groups of men attempted to filibuster her into changing her mind.
And now she had Tristan to think about.
She didn’t want another lover, not if she was honest with herself, but perhaps she needed one. She’d completely lost herself in the man. She was a highborn, for oracle’s sake. She’d never let herself end up like Jewel, letting one man absorb all her attention. It was pathetic and clingy and…
Weird.
“It’s not too late to find a good match,” her mother said. “Many of the truly eligible men are rather coquettish until the last moment, holding out for precisely this sort of situation. Providing you with a daughter would make any senator’s political career or his happiness should you bear a son. Both are valuable to a woman in your position. You’ll have your pick of men. It will be the talk of the highborn and good for business.”
“I’m to choose a partner for the season based only on one party?” Lila despaired at how ridiculous her life had become in an hour.
“Choose or don’t choose, but Wolf Industries requires a new heir. At the very least, we need a firstborn son to send to Bullstow. It will signal to the rest of New Bristol that our family has settled at last. Our stock has declined over the last few years due to your sister’s ill-placed constancy.”
“Not just her constancy.”
“Lila,” her mother said gently. For the first time in her life, Lila saw a hint of desperation in the chairwoman’s eyes. “Wear the whitecoat and commit to a child. It has always been your duty, just as it was Shiloh’s duty to go to Bullstow. You’ve had your fun, and perhaps it’s my fault for indulging you, but it is time to grow up. You must do this for the sake of the family and your own future, and you know it.”
She had seen her mother’s face as she gambled on a deal.
This wasn’t it.
Lila stayed silent, hating her mother for her ultimatum, hating that she must choose between joining the family as prime or being an exile among the poorer classes, powerless to wield any influence to help the family at all.
When she finally spoke, her words came out thin and weak. “Not prime, Mother, not until I’ve chosen a senator for the season. I don’t want the fuss at the Closing Ball. Besides, I still need to clean up my mess.”