“True.” She shrugged a graceful shoulder, drawing Balkin’s attention to the bareness of it, to the way her flowing gown tipped off to the sides of each one and the way it pulled tight over her breasts, plumping them over her neckline. The gown was fiery orange, a color that no other woman seemed able to pull off, in Balkin’s opinion, or certainly not with such perfection. He had managed to catch her alone in an alcove of a distant corridor for the first time in an entire day. She was always occupied, it seemed, with either guiding the Lady Suna and working her way into the empress’s inner circle, as they had planned, or she was being buzzed over by other men who saw her move out of Balkin’s quarters and back into her own as a waving flag of opportunity. The entire court thought he was done with her at last. Or perhaps more of them thought she was done with him in the face of his failure to claim the throne for himself.
That was what Balkin and Eirie had wanted them to think.
However, it didn’t suit his jealous temperament to know that her seeming independence was just a charade. This was the first opportunity he had had to come close to her, and he wanted to discuss further plans. But she smelled incredibly good, and Balkin found himself more distracted by what he had been denied these past hours than what he had been denied politically.
In the grand scheme, however, it seemed that all of these deprivations he was suffering were squarely the fault of that usurping little bitch.
“So now that she is contentedly settled and has received all of her fickle accolades,” he said as he reached to fondle one of those prettily exposed shoulders, “it’s time to hit our new queen with a barrage of reality. I have arranged for there to be a grievance session.”
Eirie raised a brow and chuckled. “Truly, Balkin, that’s too cruel.” But her smirk said that she was delighted by any such act he could muster.
“And after the official grievance session, we will subject her to a private council meeting. And tomorrow she will attend a public council session.”
“She’ll be exhausted. And all this haste and business will make it hard for her Tarian watchdog to dig his feet in and protect her. It will be quite a long time before she will be able to find anyone worth trusting. Anyone worthy of protecting her, be it socially, politically, or physically. She is exposed and in danger and will remain so.”
“And what of her Tarian brute? What do you make of him?” Balkin wanted to know. “What has Suna said about him?”
“Nothing of note. My feeling is he is a hired mercenary. Hired loyalty. She must be paying him a lot because he is quite watchful and loyal so far.”
“If he is bought, then he can be bought again,” Balkin mused. “All it will take is a higher price. But I am not in haste to make such an offer. They were alone together for some time the other day. I am not so certain they aren’t lovers.”
Eirie had to laugh at that idea. Something so mousy and mushy as the princess being adequate enough for a beast like that? The idea was absurd. And when they were in public, they even seemed to flirt. The Tarian seemed the type to be too hot-blooded to keep his hands to himself, and Tarians were not known for their self-discipline. But she would continue to hold the idea in reserve. Her spies told her that the empress didn’t use contraception, so it would seem she was as much the pasty little virgin as she appeared to be. Of course it was possible she didn’t care what seed took root in her womb. Or perhaps she was sterile! Oh what a glorious thing that would be! Perhaps it would be wise in the near future for Eirie to marry Balkin and breed many babies, proving him to be the more prolific heir to the empire. The more the people’s sympathies were turned against the usurper witch, the more likely Eirie would one day be empress.
Eirie tilted her head, giving Balkin easier access to her neck, where he was nibbling at her with increasingly hungry kisses. She would stop him soon, deny him her charms. She would not risk their intrigue failing because the wrong pair of eyes caught them trysting in a corner.
Damn that Curta anyway. The conjurer had been tauntingly right when she had said that the princess would no longer exist in three days’ time. Within those three days the princess had been discarded and the empress had been born. Eirie had been terribly infuriated over that tricky little portent, but unlike Balkin she had not raged and screamed like a child in a tantrum. No. She had turned her disappointment into the strongest determination she had ever felt. She would conquer that tricky little bitch if it was the last thing she ever did. Did Ambrea really think herself so clever? She was so far out of her depth, it was laughable.
“Come now, I need to get back. If you are going to assault her with all of this political nonsense, then I need to be in position for Suna to lean on me, and perhaps Her Eminence herself.” Eirie pushed him firmly away, which he didn’t like at all by the look on his face. “Remember, keep your eye on the bigger picture. Or do you like being dirt beneath her heel?”
Eirie knew that his relegation to sudden nothingness in the court where he had ruled with ironfisted power beside his brother was chafing Balkin terribly, but on the other hand he thrived on the field of political machinations. Perhaps he had grown bored with the usual grind at Benit’s side and had hardly been aware of it. He most certainly had come alive since his brother’s death in a way she wasn’t sure he even realized. But she saw it very clearly. The challenge was titillating him just as all her maneuverings to sit at his right hand had titillated her. Granted, she was growing a little impatient waiting for the ultimate prize when it had seemed so close.
“You need to watch how you word things,” he threatened her in a dangerous voice that sent an excited shiver down the length of her back.
“A mere temporary truth, my love,” she assured him, leaning toward him to brush her lips against his jawline and let him get one last lungful of the pheremones emanating from her skin. “But hold the picture of her defeat in your heart and it will be less of a pill to swallow.”
“I am holding on to it with all my will,” he told her. “How do you think I have managed to show her such amicability and such even temper so far? Otherwise I might have ripped her heart out with my bare hands before now.”
“If you could get past her Tarian. But never fear. He is next on my list of things to tackle after I have begun to win the princess’s trust.”
With that remark and a controlled toss of her exotically coifed hair, she turned and left him standing there in the hallway.
Bronse, Ravenna, Trick, and Justice were slated to attend the court of the new empress throughout the next few days, their presence meant to be a subtle reminder that the IM would support Ambrea’s rightful heritage with everything it had should someone decide to think differently and with force. Unfortunately it meant they would be doing a lot of standing around trying not to be bored. They couldn’t actively engage in the political scene, couldn’t even help Ambrea get her Imperial Guard under control and under the proper guidance it needed. Rush could because technically he wasn’t acting as an IM officer and, so far, no one even knew he was one.
But the one thing Rush wasn’t, Bronse could see, was bored. The munitions expert never once left his charge’s side, never once stopped watching her with careful attentiveness. Even when he lounged beside her throne with seeming carelessness and boredom, his mates knew well enough that it was all a show. His casualness was bait, meant to be seen as inattentiveness or a weakness, meant to lure out anyone with ill intentions toward the empress.
But for Bronse’s part and for the part of his teammates, they were left with the dubious pleasure of mingling and socializing with Ambrea’s courtiers. Everyone appeared to be on his or her best behavior, but even with appearances there was a venomous little undertow that could be felt amongst those who feared for the stability of their positions, their wealth, and their small pleasure of power. And why wouldn’t they be afraid? Ambrea had made it very clear that she would remove anyone who didn’t perform to her specifications, whatever those were. They couldn’t figure out how to satisfy her. They
didn’t know how to please someone who wasn’t looking for a bribe, a favor, or some sort of kickback. They couldn’t figure out how to buy her pleasure.
“How are we feeling today?” Bronse asked softly as Ravenna went to move past him in the process of circulating from one discussion to the next. She paused to smile at him, turning her body toward him in an act of overt flirtation, something she normally didn’t do when they were in uniform and in mixed company. She reached out to touch a seeking fingertip to his forehead, drawing it slowly from the right side to the left in a peculiar sort of caress. Bemused, he smiled at her.
“We are feeling fine,” she replied softly. “But I missed waking up to you this morning. The baby and I have decided we don’t like your new workout schedule. We don’t like to be left sleeping only to wake to an empty bed.”
Then she actually pouted at him.
He chuckled. “It’s only while we’re planetside. I run the palace grounds in a circuit that, as you well know, has more to do with security checks than it does exercise.”
“Just the same.” That pout again. “The baby and I miss you in the morning.” She leaned against him, fitting to him with that sense of perfection they had had since the first moment they met. “I think I miss you more. Your warmth, your smell …” She nuzzled him along the side of his neck and took a deep breath.
“All right!” Bronse suddenly put her away from him, clearing his throat and adjusting his dress uniform jacket to make sure it was hiding the instant erection that her flirtatious come-on had inspired. “By the Being, Rave, what’s gotten into you?” He looked around the room quickly to see who, if anyone, was watching them. It certainly was not acceptable behavior to snuggle with another soldier when working in an official capacity, even if that other soldier was his wife.
“I don’t know,” she whispered hotly as her hands came up to rub at her neck and shoulders. It was such a provocative gesture that he half expected her to begin fondling her breasts right there in the middle of the crowded room. And as delightful an idea as watching her do that might be under other circumstances, this was beyond an inappropriate time and place. Bronse reached out to take hold of her hands, bringing them down firmly between their facing bodies and holding tightly even when she struggled with him for a moment.
“Soldier, are you fit for duty?” he demanded of her in a fierce whisper.
She looked straight at him, her eyes a little glazed, as if she were on some kind of drug. Considering the environment they were in, he wouldn’t put aside the possibility. But what purpose would it serve to poison a random IM soldier?
The word “poison” floating through his mind made his entire body clench with fear. Though there was no proof, they fully believed that the recent young emperor had been poisoned. It had been cruel, whatever it was, making him suffer for days before taking him at last to the Great Beyond.
Ravenna wasn’t answering him. She seemed dazed and a bit preoccupied with her own thoughts and the fact that his hold on her hands kept her from satisfying her clear need to be tactile. Bronse looked around the room with sharp eyes, catching Justice’s attention and calling her over with a sharp jerk of his head. Justice hurried to them with a snap in her stride that made people back away from her as she went. Jus could be very intimidating when she got that cold, no-nonsense look in her eye. Not to mention the striking figure she cut in the highly respected dress uniform of an elite IM soldier.
“What’s up, boss?” she asked without preamble.
“Something’s wrong with Ravenna,” Bronse said. Speaking the words aloud had an overwhelming impact on him that the simple knowledge of it had not. For as many death-defying and life-threatening situations as he had been in, he could honestly say he had never felt more fear than he did in that moment. The trick then, as it was now, was to not let the fear win control over him. Bronse could tell that this wasn’t going to be as easy for him as it usually was. It never would be when Ravenna was in danger. Especially a danger he couldn’t get out in front of. Otherwise he could protect her against anything, he believed.
Almost anything.
But as he swept his bride into his arms, gripped her to his pounding heart, he knew what an arrogant and foolish man he was for ever thinking that way. Unless he was willing to suffocate her, taste everything she ate, take every step for her before she took it, he couldn’t possibly protect her from everything and everyone. And considering their chosen profession, it wouldn’t make for any kind of sanity. Right then, though, he had a strong appreciation for how women in his past must have felt as he left them behind to do what it was he did.
“What’s wrong?” Jus demanded, keeping her voice low as she hastened to follow him out of the room.
“Unknown. But she’s behaving strangely.”
“Let’s make love,” Ravenna whispered loudly against his ear as her hands began to touch his face and fondle the crisp ends of his hair.
“Seems pretty normal to me,” Justice quipped, giving him a snarky little smile.
“Shut up,” he snapped, half commanding, half embarrassed. The truth was he’d had a hard time separating work and his passion for Ravenna from the very beginning. His team loved to give him endless amounts of shit for that. But as good-natured as it was intended, he wasn’t in the mood. Not when he was afraid that the lives of his wife and child might be dangling in the balance.
He glanced at Justice as she pushed a path for them through the milling courtiers. She was well aware that Ravenna was circumspect when it came to showing Bronse affection because it could endanger their ability to be on the same team together. The IM would reassign them if they felt they couldn’t comport themselves in the manner of proper soldiers. Especially on an assignment as crucial to the balance of power on Ulrike as this was.
Justice led them out of the room and immediately went to charge ahead to make sure his path was clear all the way to the IM base that they were working out of.
“No, Justice, you need to stay here.”
That drew her up short, and she gave him what bordered on being a dirty look. She wanted to rebel against his command, something she didn’t do all that often, so it surprised him. But he had noticed that Justice was chafing at the bit a lot lately as they stood in the back of the room unable to act, whereas Rush stood in the line of fire at the side of a woman to whom he held no loyalty yet acted as though he did.
“But—” Jus began.
“It occurs to me that if she has been poisoned, this is a good way of clearing out the IM presence in the room,” he said to her quietly.
Justice took a deep breath, cursing to herself at how obvious and simple a ploy it was and how easily she would have been taken in by it. She supposed that was why Bronse was in command and she was not. Granted, she had no aspirations at the moment of leading her own team because she was happy where she was and finally content to trust the team around her, but that could change. Life always changed. People did unexpected things. Loved ones left.
She watched Bronse’s back for a long minute as he hurried down the corridor with Ravenna in his arms. Justice wasn’t terribly worried though. Ophelia was planetside, though at the Allay base rather than in the Allay court with them. The delicate little Chosen One could heal with her touch just about anything that came her way. With her own eyes, Justice had seen Ophelia do some pretty incredible things. Jus was certain there was nothing Ophelia couldn’t heal, except perhaps death.
And maybe insanity.
Justice turned to look back into the receiving room, her gaze quickly tracking to the newly seated empress and the Tarian male at her side. As far as Justice was concerned, Rush had lost his mind. It wasn’t as though he had been assigned to watch over her as they had been doing. Distinctly not. He had shed his uniform so he could act outside the rules of the IM. But why? For the life of her, Justice couldn’t figure it out. And part of why she couldn’t figure it out was because Ender hadn’t taken so much as a second to explain his thinking to her.
That kind of bruised her a bit. They had shared a special sort of bond from the first day they had been assigned together into the First Active squad. She had thought they were best friends, or at least as much as anyone could be with Ender. As close as they were, as smoothly as they acted when working together, the one other thing they shared was what they didn’t share. They both had that closed-off place inside them, that hard nut of history from their place of heritage. Planetside born or station born, it was simply a bitch growing up on Tari. She had shared a little of it with Ender, but he had proven more than just recalcitrant about his own upbringing. And that was okay with her. To be his friend she didn’t need him to get all touchy-feely with his past emotions.
But she did expect other things. She expected him to be simple in his logic. She expected him to be content just blowing up shit. She expected a casual irreverence from him and his uncomplicated way of going through life. He was a grunt and happy to be one.
So what was with the hero and savior gig he suddenly had going on? She was pretty sure he couldn’t care less about the political structure of Allay. She was definitely sure he had no opportunity to blow up stuff, and from across the room she could tell he wasn’t carrying any kind of explosive ordnance. That made sense in crowded venues such as this, but it honestly made no sense that Ender would want to purposely cut himself off from the thing he did best.
True, Rush had armed himself in other ways. Most of it was hidden, and only other First Actives or well-trained eyes could spot what he was carrying and where. But it wasn’t an extension of what he seemed to be born to do. Everything about it seemed contrary to everything she knew about him. She wished she could contrive a reason for pulling him aside, for asking him what the hell he was thinking, but anything she did like that could blow his cover. It irritated her that she hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to him before they had gone planetside.
Okay, maybe it even hurt a little that he hadn’t even sought her out for her counsel or just to keep her up to date. Not even to toss back a few drinks as a farewell before he separated from the Actives for what could be a significant amount of time.