Date: June 3rd, 2440 Time: 3:30 PM
“I’m sorry I haven’t had much time with the two of you these past few days,” Matt said, gesturing toward the seats across from him in the quiet of his private meeting room. His voice was casual, but the air around him seemed heavier now, charged. “Let’s set aside, for a moment, that someone in this room made sure I was adopted as a High Lord of the V’ren, and I will one day pay her back for all sorts of hell that’s going to cause me. As High Lord, I want you to remember that I’m still the same man who invited you to live in his home. I am also asking you—at least in private—to call me Matt. Or, if you really prefer, Matthew.”
T’monn smiled softly, but she did not sit until he did. L’tani gave him a long look before following her mother’s lead.
“We have been well cared for,” T’monn said, pleased her new High Lord was spending so much time learning V’ren. Though she would not admit it, it made him extremely attractive to her in ways that physical ruggedness could never match. Not that she didn’t appreciate the physical ruggedness, but she was never going to need that from a man again, especially one she couldn’t have. “Your medical team has impressed me. I was especially intrigued by your physical therapists. We do not isolate that function as a dedicated healing art.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Matt said, folding his hands loosely. “L’tani, I understand you and a group of younger women expressed interest in meeting some of Earth’s highborn. That’s arranged. But I want you to be careful—one of the women you’ll meet today has ties to someone high in the Amazon Corporation. I don’t believe she means harm, but her interests aren’t simple. It’s her university friends who will follow. Be polite—but guarded.”
T’monn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Should we be engaging with such people at all?”
“Yes,” Matt said, without hesitation. “You’ll need relationships outside this valley, and people like her are pathways—even if they come with layered motives. Besides, not all the highborn who remain here will find many of their own to consort with. In time, those lines will blur. And I’d rather you form bonds with locals. Our people may lack polish, but they’re rarely deceitful. Social rank means something different here.”
T’monn inclined her head. “Your explanation is sufficient. Among the stars, mixed crews are common. Perhaps your people’s rural caste will appear higher to us than it does to your own.”
“That’s already happening,” Matt said. “T’mari has begun treating several of my staff as genuine friends.”
“I enjoyed the company of the women at our fitting,” L’tani added. “None were of noble birth?”
“No. But they were from good families. Oxana, for example—her family fled economic collapse. She’s what we’d call poor, but she has talent, and she works hard.”
“She was very helpful. Did we offend her by treating her as a servant?”
“No. She told Angelina she and her friends really enjoyed your company. You also honored her skill. I paid her for her time because I believe in fairness—but to her, the invitation mattered more. She’s already calling herself a consultant to V’ren dignitaries—and she should.”
T’monn absorbed this, nodding once. “Then it would be right for us to greet her publicly?”
“Exactly. Treat her as an equal. You’re in different professions, not different realities.”
“I did ask if she might help us further,” T’monn said. “Though Angelina mentioned some of the pieces might not be suitable for formal or professional settings.”
“Probably true. Oxana was focused on casual wear and being comfortable so you would feel like you fit in here. For formal needs, Angelina’s guidance will be invaluable. She’s our age, T’monn—and seasoned in all the ways this world rewards and punishes public women.”
T’monn’s lips twitched at the corner. “That kind of seasoning comes with scars.”
“She wears them well.”
Matt’s tone shifted then, slightly softer. “What news from your brother?”
“He found your solution elegant.”
“Then it’s on me to make it work. L’tani—while your sister is away, I’d like you to serve as my V’ren advisor. You know about the party tonight. All of House T’all was invited, but I need you there in another capacity as well. You made sure I would complete the rites to become High Lord. Your punishment for wrecking my peaceful life is to be the young, pretty woman on my arm when I arrive at the party tonight.”
She blinked. “Me?”
“Absolutely. You don’t get to make me an almost-mythical figure without paying the consequences, did you? Because you are also young and pretty, you’ll be underestimated—which makes you perfect as my date. Since you are also very smart, you’ll get to ask questions they won’t expect. Watch them and remember what is said—especially when they get you alone. Tell me what I missed over breakfast tomorrow.”
L’tani sat straighter. “I’ll do my best. I’ll tell you plainly in the morning, even if it’s uncomfortable, Matthew,” she said, trying the feel of his name in her mouth—and liking it.
Matt smiled. “You helped make me High Lord, remember? Speaking plainly to me is not just allowed—it’s expected.”
T’monn watched this exchange with sharpened eyes. “If I held the role?”
“You’d be taken seriously. You already are. You’re my chief medical officer. Most women in this region are in their thirties or forties. You’re close enough to be seen as one of them. And you’re strong. Some will still underestimate you—for being a woman, or for not being from here. But that’s fading.”
“If gender becomes an issue?”
“Speak with Noor Aziz. You’ll meet her at the party. She’s the linguist on our team—and a woman. She’ll explain it better than I ever could.”
L’tani hesitated. “Will we face much of this… dismissal?”
“You will because you’re young. Because you’re beautiful. Because you’re alien. But you’re also clever—and now politically significant. That’s a dangerous combination. I think you can trust Julia Vallejo to help you navigate this bit of social awkwardness, and I’ll send her to you in a bit.”
“This happens to you, too?” T’monn asked, testing her suspicion that he, too, is often not taken seriously by outsiders. She thought it was, in part, a condition he preferred—as it would give him great room to maneuver politically.
Matt laughed, but it had teeth. “Still. There are men twice my age who call me ‘boy’ when they think I can’t hear. Some do it even after I’ve bought out their family’s company.”
T’monn didn’t smile. “Then you’ve become what they fear.”
“I’ve become what they can’t control.”
A silence followed—not cold, but reverent.
T’monn leaned back, gaze still on Matt. “I’m beginning to see the shape of things. Not all of it… But enough.”
Matt nodded slowly. “That’s all I can ask. And thank you—for your trust.”
“If I’m to be your advisor,” L’tani said, her voice steadier now, “I’ll do my best.”
Matt stood. The others followed.
“Tonight there’s food, music, and far too many introductions. Just do your best—and try to have fun while doing it.”
“We’ll be there,” L’tani said. “I promise to ask insightful questions.”
“And I,” T’monn said, brushing imaginary lint from her sleeve, “will do what older women do best.”
“What’s that?” Matt asked.
“Watch everything,” she said. “And remember who said what.”
He chuckled. “Then I’ll try not to say anything stupid.”
As they stepped into the hall, L’tani hesitated.
“Matthew?”
“Yes?”
“If they look at me the way they looked at T’mari—as if I’m strange, or other—should I be concerned?”
“No,” he said, the gentleness now absolute. “That means they’re curious. Let them look. Smile back. Let them wonder.”
“And if they think that’s all I am?”
“Then you’ll prove them wrong.”
She nodded once. Her spine straightened. The door clicked shut behind her, and for the first time, she walked like someone who had seen a throne—and knew she might one day sit beside it.
