“Still with me?” he asked.
“More than ever,” she assured him cryptically.
Still, her visible regrouping made him smile a little.
“Good girl,” he said. He grabbed his pack and retrieved the pair of aerosol cans strapped to the outside of it. He faced the resonance boundary—energy designed to repulse intruders combined with solid whey stone that was a good ten feet high. Dropping the pack onto the ground, he tossed the second can to his free hand and gave them both a good shaking to mix the contents. Then he aimed and sprayed with the left-hand canister. The contents were blue, leaving a vivid path as Rush painted an ovoid shape onto the wall. The droplets passed right through the resonance barrier, allowing him to easily tag the stone. That was a trick of the mixture. Normally the barrier would repel all liquids, just so vandals couldn’t do what Rush was doing right then. Once he was satisfied with the first can, he quickly followed with the second, a brilliant pink paint that helped him track perfectly on top of the blue as the colors mixed into a vivid purple.
“Why aren’t you people running away?” he asked dryly.
Bronse was already pulling the princess out of range, but he wasn’t hurried. He knew, as did Rush, how much time it would take for the two mixtures to interact with each other.
As soon as he finished, Rush stuffed the cans into his pack and hurried after the retreating squad. He checked his timepiece and mentally calculated how much time there was before …
The explosion was fairly significant, sending a huge dispersal of debris everywhere. The squad ducked and dodged the hailstorm of shattered stone.
“All right, let’s go!” Rush called as soon as most of the mess had settled. He didn’t want to waste any more time in that forest. It was clear that the Imperial Guard knew they were there and also clear that they suspected what they were doing there. With so many enforcements in the area, there was no time to spare.
Rush swept an arm around Ambrea and hauled her over the brush and debris with a ground-devouring stride. The resonance field needed a solid surface to run continuously. By destroying the wall, Rush had disrupted the flow of the repulsor field. The hole he had created was perfect, and they could see straight through to the airfield. There were hundreds of ships parked on the tarmac, rows and rows of them stretching for miles, curving around an assortment of buildings and refueling stations. There was ground crew everywhere, and all of those nearby were scrambling for safety and hiding from the unknown source of destruction. It wouldn’t be the first time a ship had blown up on the field for some reason or a fuel station blew up as it accidentally got caught in a low-flying ship’s wash thanks to an inexperienced pilot.
Still, it wasn’t so frequent an occurrence that they were able to quickly shake off their fear. The Special Active squad took advantage of that and raced onto the field with their precious cargo.
“Dead east!” Justice guided them.
They had purposely parked the ship so it was close to their planned extraction point. It was barely fifty feet away. Justice hit the auto start control strapped to her hip and they heard the distinctive sound of propulsion engines roaring to life. The short flyer came into view after the squad dodged a few smaller ships. The hatch door was already dropping as they ran up to it.
“In you go, Blue Eyes,” Rush said as he hustled the princess up the gangway. He had one eye on the airfield behind them, watching for any incoming trouble. He felt better only when they were all in the belly of the ship and the hatch was closed tight behind them. Then Justice was flinging herself into the pilot’s seat and inserting a comm earpiece into her ear.
“Flight command, SF-2-6-9-8 requesting permission to go outbound via transmitted vector.” She punched in the vector rapidly, sending it to the command center.
“Vector received SF-2-6-9-8. All’s clear.”
Justice was already off the tarmac. She had every intention of going with or without permission. With permission would allow her to go without worrying that she was going to get shot down in the process of escaping the atmosphere. They had hoped to get permission and be outbound before the first reports of trouble even began to filter into command. All the flights would be suspended as safety protocol once reports of some kind of mishap were received.
The trick had been to move faster than it took for people to gather their wits about them and start reacting according to their training in an emergency. Sure enough, they were outbound at a fierce speed, pulling away from Allay and all of Ulrike so fast that everyone in the ship had to hang on to their seats because the inertia dampeners failed to compensate quickly enough. Justice had a knack for that. Technology these days made for smooth and easy flights into space, but it still couldn’t seem to keep up with Justice’s way of yanking and banking around the cosmos. But she got the job done faster and better than any other pilot in the system. Rush had yet to see anyone outmaneuver her in a firefight.
But luckily there was not going to be any firefight today.
They had escaped Allay with their prize alive and intact.
The first and most dangerous part of their mission was complete.
Balkin had his fingers deep in his mistress’s hair, the chocolate and silver tresses tumbling over his hands as he massaged her scalp, urged her onward in intense, gripping squeezes. He was sprawled naked across her bed, and she was prettily dressed in her very best court clothes as they jointly worked his cock into and out of her mouth. Whatever her emotional shortcomings, whatever his doubts about the genuineness of her affections, Balkin couldn’t fault her ability to floor him with her skilled mouth and sexual intensity. Eirie had a tremendous appetite for sex, a seemingly endless hunger for all things carnal. A perfect match for him. He sucked air in through his teeth, expelling it on a grunt of pleasure. So hot. She was so incredibly hot.
He didn’t doubt that her voraciousness was directly attached to his very recent public address that he would be taking the crown of Allay for his own. He had not, however, announced his betrothal to her. Much to her well-contained fury. He knew she had expected the announcement, but for the first time in some time he had the pleasure of power over her, as she often held over him. But regardless of his games, she knew he was obsessed with her. And now she was wielding some of the reason why. She could have turned on him like a vicious little harpy, and it wouldn’t have been the first time she had done so in their relationship. But she more often chose to win her way like this, with the power of her beauty and insatiable sexuality. It was why she never grew old to him, never trod across his tenuous nerves. Still, the fire of fighting with her was a pleasure all its own. He reveled in that just as well. And somehow she always seemed to know which side to show and when.
“By the Great Being, you have such a mouth!” he told her fiercely as he was flooded with the urge to climax. His rod and sac ached with the need of it. His heart pounded in his ears as the impulse crawled through his body over and over again. Yet he would resist as long as he could, forcing her to work for it, subjugating her as he could do only in moments like this.
The chime at the door was ill timed, to say the least. Balkin roared with irritation but ignored the interruption and refocused on Eirie. When the chime sounded a second time, she flicked a look of pure amusement up at him, the liner around her eyes making their color jump into stark relief. All of it—the expression, the precious rare perfection of their shape, and their exotic tilt fixed in the face of the woman he admittedly couldn’t imagine living without—gripped him with such a combination of intense emotions that he had to will himself not to grip her so hard as to hurt her.
“If you do not leave off that chime you’ll be dead, I swear it!”
There was a pause long enough to give him a sense of having made his point. He relaxed and was just beginning to refocus himself on Eirie when the chime sounded again. Balkin growled with fury even as Eirie laughed and rolled away from him. He lurched to his feet, storming to the door and touching the release. In his apartments,
with the rooms and servants as open and available as they were, there was no privacy. There were no locked doors. He had to be available at every moment to anyone who might need him on matters of state. But these were Eirie’s quarters. They were always kept ready for their mistress, who almost never had use of them anymore. The only reason they were there today was because they had not been able to wait until they reached his rooms.
The door shot open, revealing a gaggle of advisors, the usual tagalongs who fell all over themselves to be useful to the emperor of the day. They were mostly of his choosing, perhaps one or two holdovers from his brother’s reign. It had taken painstaking work coaxing and convincing his nephew to appoint this one or that one, but not nearly as much of a struggle as it had been when he had tried to maneuver around Benit. Apparently, when he was officially crowned emperor, he was going to have to make a few more changes. He couldn’t abide anyone who did not obey his every command.
He could see Prelate Jux with his hand hovering over the chime contact, and then the prelate jerking his hand back like a guilty child. Naked as he was, Balkin grabbed hold of Prelate Geraie’s drape, yanked him close enough so he could pull the decorative dagger from its sheath at his waist, and then plunged the thing into Jux’s chest. He grabbed the stunned prelate by the scruff and then stabbed him twice more, each thrust more violent and infuriated than the last. Then he shoved Jux into the shocked throng, who quickly jumped back and let their cohort fall dead to the floor.
Feeling infinitely better, Balkin threw down the blade and reached for Geraie. He was content to see the man flinch away in spite of the fact that Balkin was clearly unarmed now. He wiped his bloody hand on the man’s drape slowly and deliberately.
“Now,” he said calmly, “was there something you needed to tell me?”
The men were frozen in terror, clearly unable to process past their fear.
“Go on,” he encouraged them. “Or have you interrupted me for no reason? Because that, you see, would make me quite angry.” He heard Eirie giggle near his shoulder and realized she had come up behind him to watch him torment his advisors.
“My great lord,” Paxor Freehold spoke up from the back of the pack, pushing his way forward yet keeping studiously out of Balkin’s immediate grasp. “There has been a message from the IM central command.”
The paxor held out the VidPad, which no doubt carried the message. The screen was locked with a bright chartreuse color, indicating that it was meant for imperial eyes only. Crown or no crown, Balkin was, for all intents and purposes, the acting imperial regent. He took the pad and glanced up at them. He was no fool. They had to know what was in the message or they wouldn’t have been so urgent to disturb him, especially in the face of his angry warnings. Their pale faces and the way they all, as a single entity, seemed to back away from him told him that he was not going to like what he was about to see.
He entered his private code and the message cued up. He could feel Eirie leaning into his side, eager to see what was about to play.
The admiral who resolved onto the screen was quick to begin.
“Acting Regent Balkin Tsu Allay, you are hereby recalled to the judiciary court of the Interplanetary Militia to answer for arguments that you are not the rightful heir to the throne of Allay. This court has been petitioned by Ambrea Vas Allay to represent her interests as the rightful heir and empress of Allay. Proceedings will begin at skyrise Allayan time. All arguments will be heard in a fair and impartial IM court. All case law should be presented at that time. Any failure to present yourself will be considered an act of defiance and all rights will presumptively default to the claimant. Martial law will be declared and the IM will be sent in force to your doorstep. Your compliance would be”—he paused and, it seemed, smiled a little—“wise.”
As shocked as she was, Eirie very wisely took a step back. She leaned against the wall and out of the way as her lover exploded. His fury was nuclear and his advisors tried to scatter, but the blood of their previously abused compatriot was under their feet and they began to slip and fall in a tangle of desperate bodies. She watched with some consternation as Balkin dragged one of them into the room by his hair, the two of them tracking blood over her carpeting. Balkin knelt on a single knee and began smashing the advisor’s head against the ground, all the while roaring profanities.
“Fucking bitch! Bitch! Spawn of a conjuring whore!”
Eirie waited until he had spent the better part of his initial rage. After all, if she interrupted him too soon, he might turn his anger on her. He would regret it eventually, but she had no desire to negotiate the pain that would come into play in the meantime. She watched as he was kneeling over his unconscious victim, panting for breath, his naked body looking so primal in its blood-spattered state. Oh yes. He was a true warrior. But she didn’t want a warrior. Not just a warrior. She wanted an emperor.
She moved forward and crouched before him, careful to keep her dress from getting soiled in the mess he had made.
“Really, darling, this was my favorite rug,” she scolded gently. The acidic look he shot her told her to tread carefully. But she knew him well. “Don’t be so easily vexed, my lord,” she said softly, her voice as gentle and coaxing as if she were speaking to an easily spooked forest creature. She knew this creature was just as wild, just as much a slave to its instincts. For all of his education and refined upbringing, the volatility of Balkin’s temper had always damaged his political power. Ruling with an iron fist was one thing, ruling with terrorism quite another. Terrorism could lead to revolts and revolutions. It could lead to the interference of the IM. If anyone could appreciate how crucial it was to keep up perfect appearances, it was Balkin, but the stress and pressure of these past few days had left him raw and uncontrolled. “You have committed no crime,” she reminded him, “in the eyes of the IM. You did not know that she yet lived. You were only doing what you were required to do, what you had the right to do, on the premise that she had died in her escape attempt. You were the next logical heir to the throne of Allay.”
“I didn’t even want any of this,” he seethed darkly, “until you told me it was possible! I was content to rule in tandem with my brother! I did not want his death!”
“Of course not,” she agreed, glancing through the open door to ensure that everyone else was long gone and they were essentially alone. No doubt there were those lurking down the hall, unable to help themselves as they witnessed the new turn in the court and craved to be the very first to impart crucial gossip. “No one dares accuse you of that. And anyway, that is not the issue at hand. Think clearly and think gently. You are thwarted for the moment, it is true, but only for the moment. Don’t forget that you are still at the greatest advantage. This … this girl has spent her entire life suffocated and insulated from this court. She has not a single clue how to rule this land. She will be out of her element, floundering and helpless. Honestly, this escape of hers doesn’t seem like her at all. I am willing to bet she is nothing more than a pawn for someone else’s political agenda. She certainly never showed any backbone of her own before this.”
Balkin’s brow furrowed, but Eirie could see that he was calming down and beginning to think more deeply, more clearly.
“She could just as easily be your pawn as another’s,” she continued.
“It is unlikely she will want anything to do with me,” he said, shaking his head. “She sees me as the instrument of all her suffering. I was the one who imprisoned her. I am the one who interrogated her.”
“All in the past and all in the name of your loyalty to the emperor. All you have to do is win her trust. You will easily be able to do so because, like it or not, you are in control of all the key elements of this empire. She will have no choice but to turn to you for teaching. Make amends simply, but do not grovel. You are a strong man with strong opinions. She will not believe you to be meek and acquiescent all of a sudden.”
“I’d rather cut my own throat in any event. I will not kowtow to that
… that—”
“You will be respectful,” Eirie reminded him firmly. “You will act as any loyal subject would be expected to act, Balkin. You will wait until things grow quiet and easy. Then, later, who knows what will happen? Misfortunes happen all the time.”
His laugh was sardonic.
“And you think you could get away with that? First the boy and then her? Without setting the IM dogs on us?”
“The IM can come all they like, my lord, but they will not be able to prove anything any more than they could prove foul play in the boy.”
Balkin stood up to his full height and she followed suit. She watched him run a bloodied hand back through his hair as he worked his mind around the altering situation he found himself in. She knew how he was feeling. She was feeling the same way. To have the ultimate prize so close, just within their grasp, and then have it slip between their fingers was the ultimate frustration. But they were both veterans of this government and this court. The girl was a fish out of water, whatever her blood rights might be. Blood may dictate position, but it didn’t guarantee she’d have the first idea what to do with herself.
“Don’t fret, my lord,” she soothed him, reaching to run her hands over his broad shoulders. “We will yet win the day from her. Just think of it as a new game. And the prize will be all the sweeter this time.”
Balkin’s dark eyes fixed on hers and the corner of his hard lips lifted in a small smile.
“Indeed. It’s only a shame she will be such a lacking opponent.”
Rush toyed with the VidPad on the conference table, flipping the handheld piece of technology over and over again very slowly and methodically, steadily watching it as it fell over, turned, fell over again. Bronse stood in the doorway of the conference room watching his munitions expert, fascinated by this brooding side of him. Ender was not known for emotional preoccupations. The soldier was two-dimensional when it came down to it. He liked to work, liked to blow things up, liked to sleep, and liked to eat. The most emotional he ever seemed to get was in his unwavering loyalty to the squad. So, Bronse had to assume that Ender’s disturbance was connected to the latter issue.