“Well,” Jordan began with a hitched brow, “after you left, the Durangos started making empty threats. No one believed they would invade; everyone knew they didn’t have the money for a war. I figured they’d accept a payout for the broken marriage contract, and that would be the end of it. But then the king and queen died in a shuttle ‘accident’”—he used his fingers to make air quotes—“and Marius took control.”
“Marius is king?”
“Of three thrones—every dynasty except for yours. He’s the one who attacked, and not only us. He hit the other two kingdoms so fast there wasn’t time for an alliance. They fell in a matter of days. Now he owns those lands, and the former title holders are probably waiting for their own ‘accidents’ to happen.”
“But wait,” Cassia said. “That doesn’t make sense.” According to the charter, Marius was within his rights to invade her kingdom because she’d broken their marriage contract. But that privilege didn’t extend to the other two dynasties. He had no cause for aggression there, and certainly no right to assassinate royals. The Solar League should’ve intervened and sent a legion of Enforcers to stop him. “Who’s allowing this?”
Jordan delivered the kind of amused look one might give a child who’d asked where babies came from. “I imagine the same person who paid for his missiles.”
“You think he has a financial backer?”
“I know he does. And it’s someone with connections powerful enough to make the Solar League look the other way.”
“What about my kingdom? Who’s in charge?”
“That depends on who you ask.”
“No one?”
He answered with a shrug. “Or everyone. Either way, it’s a mess.”
“So how have you fought off the Durango army for this long?”
“The citizens took up arms. Which seemed like a good thing, at first….”
“Until?” she prompted.
“Until they stopped taking orders and formed a rebellion. They want the charter amended to form a republic.”
“Oh god.” Cassia gripped her temples and thought back to the symbol she’d seen defacing the palace. That must be the mark of rebels. But an uprising was the least of her problems. Without a leader, the Rose kingdom would continue its downward spiral until it tumbled right into Marius’s hands. Her people needed a queen, and no matter how tarnished her reputation, she was the rightful heir to the throne. She nodded at the cell door. “Let me out of here and take me home.”
To her great surprise, Jordan told her, “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“This isn’t a rescue mission.”
“Enough games,” she snapped. “Unlock this door right now.”
“Let’s say that I do,” Jordan countered, “and that we actually make it out of here alive. Do you think Marius will just shrug it off and let you go?”
Cassia tightened her jaw. She knew the answer.
“He won’t,” Jordan said. “He’ll burn down every house in the kingdom until he finds you. This is personal for him—he’s been the colony joke ever since you left him at the altar. I think the reason he hasn’t completely crushed us is because he wanted you to be here to watch it happen. When I heard you were captured, I infiltrated his guard detail so I could see you. But I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my next-in-command knows I’m here.”
“Then what’s the point? Did you come here to taunt me?”
“No. I came to see if you grew a backbone. To see if there’s any fight left in the Rose bloodline.” He delivered a pointed look. “And to see if you can help me take down Marius from the inside.”
That shocked a laugh out of her. “And what’ve you decided?”
“That I think you have it in you.”
“Well, I think you’re unhinged.”
“Maybe we’re both right,” he said. A click of footsteps from overhead warned their conversation would be cut short. He moved closer and spoke in a whisper. “Running away won’t solve anything, and neither will assassinating Marius. We have to take him alive so he can tell us who’s supplying his missiles and where he’s hiding them, because they’re not in his armory. Once we have his missiles, his army will have to stand down. If you find a way to neutralize Marius, I’ll come back for you. And when I do, you’ll have the full support of the military to reclaim what’s yours.”
His idea set Cassia’s inner wheels in motion, but she still didn’t see how it was possible. “I can’t do anything from in here.”
“Then you’re not as cunning as I remember.”
“But I don’t have so much as a hairpin on me.”
Jordan’s shrug said that didn’t worry him. “If you play this right, you won’t need one. I heard the ladies’ maids talking before you arrived. They’re supposed to clean you up and present you to Marius’s court at supper. Maybe you can persuade him to honor your marriage contract.”
“Now I know you’re unhinged.”
“Planning a royal wedding takes a lot of work. Creates distractions that make a man vulnerable. Whatever you decide, I suggest you use that famous charm of yours.” As the general backed away, he frowned at her stained clothes. “I’m sure it’s buried under there somewhere.”
“How do I contact you?”
“You don’t.”
“But we need a plan. How will you know when to come for me?”
All he told her was, “Don’t worry. I’ll know.”
Then he ducked out the side door, leaving her head spinning.
An hour later, a team of guards arrived to bind her wrists and usher her to the servants’ wing, where a trio of scissor-wielding maids awaited on a tarp that protected the floor from a scourge of “mutated lice.” With pinched faces, the maids cut away her clothes and tossed the soiled rags into the fireplace, all the while remarking that poor Marius should never have been contracted to wed such a disgusting girl.
Over the next several hours, they scrubbed Cassia raw, washed her hair until her scalp burned, and then erased her bruises using medical cosmetics she hadn’t seen since her days in the palace. When the pain was gone and the real makeover began, she pretended to enjoy the tickle of shimmer being dusted on her cheekbones, but her focus was on Jordan’s offer.
There had to be a way to make it work.
She considered every angle, no matter how wild, as the maids styled her hair in a twist and secured it in place. The light scrape of metal against her scalp told her she now had access to hairpins, but she wouldn’t win this battle with lockpicks and pulse pistols. For Marius, tonight was about settling a vendetta. She would have to placate him, and her instincts told her humility was the key.
For that reason, she didn’t object when the maids zipped her into a strapless minidress more fitting for an escort than a princess. Nor did she complain when the guards left her feet bare and her wrists bound as they escorted her to the banquet hall. If Marius wanted her humbled before his court, she would give him that.
Once the banquet doors parted and she stepped across the threshold, she took care to shorten her stride into the steps of a girl ashamed. She dropped her gaze to the glittering quartz tiles beneath her feet and didn’t look up until she heard a familiar baritone that turned her blood cold.
“My god, is that you, dear Cassy? You’re nothing but skin and bones.”
The intimate use of her nickname grated her nerves. Nobody except Kane called her that. But she peeked shyly through her lashes at Marius, making sure to bite her quivering lower lip for effect.
From his seat at the head of the long dining room table, Marius looked the same as she remembered: like he belonged on a billboard. He’d always been beautiful, both by genetics and design, and tonight was no exception. There wasn’t a blemish on him, from the copper waves curling gently against his collar to the tips of his perfectly manicured fingers. He seemed as sculpted as ever, with a body that was literally known to stop traffic. (His exposed chest had once caused a three-hovercraft pileup.) But beneath the facad
e of perfection simmered a cruelty that all the enhancements in the galaxy couldn’t hide.
That was why she’d refused him.
The half dozen girls hovering around his chair didn’t seem to mind. Especially not the one sitting on his lap, stroking his well-trimmed beard with her fingernails. She looked content enough to purr, barely flicking a glance in Cassia’s direction before gazing in wonder at Marius’s face.
He lifted a chiding hand toward his guards. “Shackles? Our guest is a sovereign, not a soldier. Free her so we can dine like civilized human beings.”
The guards obeyed, but they lingered within arm’s reach, keeping their eyes fixed on her hands. They must have heard what she’d done to the Daeva. In retrospect, maybe punching the bounty hunter had been a bad idea.
“Come.” Marius indicated the upholstered chair adjacent to him at the table. Every head in the room turned toward the seat. “I ordered my chef to prepare your favorite: braised pheasant with asparagus spears, hold the truffles.” With a grin that didn’t reach beyond his lips, he added, “I remembered you hate mushrooms.”
He snapped his fingers, and a dozen platter covers simultaneously retracted, filling the room with the steamy scents of roasted meat and decadent spice. Cassia’s stomach grumbled as she settled in her chair.
Marius laughed at the sound of her hunger. “Had I known the Daeva would starve you, I would have sent someone else to bring you home.”
“Would you have?” She unfolded her napkin. “Even knowing why I left?”
His arrogant smile slipped. When he recovered, his lips were noticeably thinner than before. “I won’t pretend I was happy to learn you’d run off with a bastard, but if what I’ve heard is true, you’re not the first girl he’s seduced for money. I can’t blame you for falling victim to his charms. You were only sixteen.”
The terseness of his response caught her off guard. She scanned his face for a hint of subtext—a sardonic twist of his mouth to show they both knew the real reason she’d left. But if the bloom of color on his cheeks was any indication, he actually believed she’d run away with Kane out of love. And if that was the case, it meant her parents hadn’t told anyone about her accusations.
She saw a way to make Jordan’s idea work.
“You’re more forgiving than I deserve,” she murmured, staring into her lap but speaking loud enough for all to hear. She peeked up at Marius and then back down again. “I knew it was a mistake as soon as I left, but I was too afraid to come home and face you. Now there’s been so much suffering, and it’s all my fault.”
“Mmm,” he agreed. “Things could have been different if you’d stayed.”
“Maybe it’s not too late to fix this. We can join our thrones and stop the fighting.”
He turned his attention to the girl on his lap, grinning as he ran a lazy finger down the length of her spine. Despite his attempt at uninterest, clearly this was what he’d wanted—for Cassia to publicly ask him to take her back. “Why would I agree to that when I’m about to capture your throne? There’s no need for a marriage alliance now. The fighting will end in days with your surrender.”
“But there are insurgents in my city,” she warned. “A rebellion to destroy the monarchy, all because of the war you waged against them. They’ll never follow you unless I show them there’s nothing to fear.”
Marius lifted a shoulder. “Rebels can be destroyed easily enough.”
“True,” she conceded. “But if you keep using your weapons, soon there’ll be no one left to rule.”
That must have resonated with him, because he hesitated and wrinkled his forehead in consideration. She knew she almost had him. She thought hard of a way to sweeten the deal, to give him whatever he needed to save face with his people.
Above all else, what did he need?
One humiliation for another, she decided as she pushed up from her chair and sank to her knees, right there in front of Marius, his entire court, his romantic playthings, and every servant in the room.
“Please,” she begged, clasping both hands together. “Withdraw your troops and join our families. Help me make this right.” When he didn’t seem convinced, she swallowed her pride and took her submission to the next level. She bent down and rested her forehead on the tip of his boot. She could sink no lower than this. “If you’ll have me, I’ll marry you. I’ll do whatever you ask me to do. Just say you’ll have me.”
When she glanced up, Marius wore a smile so broad it threatened to split his face in half like an overboiled egg. He didn’t favor her with a reply—naturally, he would draw out the suspense—but his expression told her everything she needed to know.
Yes, he would marry her.
And he’d make sure she didn’t enjoy one moment of it.
In the days that followed, Marius made good on his unspoken promise to punish her. When he announced their engagement from the palace balcony, it was with a girlfriend under each arm and Cassia standing off to the side like a used-up handkerchief. Her display as the spoils of war elicited cheers from the crowd, just as Marius had intended, but she ignored their taunts and kept her gaze turned down, scanning the crowd for a familiar broken nose and a squadron of soldiers in disguise.
No one had come for her yet.
She expected to see General Jordan later in the week, escorting the royal cleric during marriage contract negotiations, but he didn’t appear then, either. Nor did he send a message or convey any type of instructions for what she should do next. She signed the contract and slammed down the pen in frustration.
Why wouldn’t Jordan communicate with her? What did he expect her to do? And just how far was she supposed to take this marriage act—all the way to the altar? She hoped not, because at this rate Marius would make her crawl down the aisle with an apple between her teeth. She didn’t even want to think about the wedding night, not that she had any intention of following through on that part of the ruse.
But when two more days passed without word, she was forced to do a lot more than think about it. The morning of her wedding arrived, along with an ivory satin gown, slightly yellowed at the hem, and a handwritten note from Marius.
My mother wore this on her wedding day.
May it bring you the same luck, dear Cassy!
“Cassy,” she hissed through clenched teeth. He needed to stop calling her that. And considering the fact that he’d killed his own mother, she had no interest in duplicating the woman’s “luck.”
She crumpled the note and threw it into the fireplace as her cheeks burned with anger. Where was her support? Where were the troops to help her with this mission? She’d never felt so alone. Every single person in her life had abandoned her, even her parents and her closest friends. Why wasn’t anyone trying to find her—and where was Kane when she needed him?
Kane.
An imaginary band squeezed her chest. Just when she thought she couldn’t miss him more, she pictured his face and lost another piece of her soul. She hadn’t meant to blame him for staying away. That was what she’d wanted, for him to disappear and be safe. But she would give anything to have him with her, to feel his long fingers in her hair and to listen to the low murmur of his voice in her ear.
If he were here, this time she wouldn’t pull away or make him stop. She would give him what he’d always wanted, what she’d secretly wanted him to have: her whole heart, all in. She wouldn’t care about political marriages or royal bloodlines. She would be brave and let herself love him.
But it was too late; she was out of time.
Tears blurred her vision as she drifted into the washroom. If Kane could see her now, he would tell her to stop brooding and rescue herself, then add a teasing insult to get a rise out of her. She would yell at him for some silly reason or another, and then they would bicker until one of them kissed the other one silent. She couldn’t believe those days were gone.
She was still smiling through her tears when she glanced at the sink basin and noticed something she’d overlooked be
fore. There beside the soap rested a shiny new laser blade, much like the one she’d left on the Banshee, the one Kane was probably using right now.
A possibility occurred to her.
The idea seemed far-fetched at first, but by gradual degrees it bloomed into a plan, and in the span of a few minutes she knew what she had to do.
“Thank you, Kane,” she whispered to herself.
Then she put him out of her mind and set to work.
“Do you swear to honor His Royal Colonial Highness, Marius Edwin Durango, in your thoughts, words, and deeds?” the cleric asked Cassia through a long gray beard that puffed at the lips when he spoke.
“Yes.” She held her hand, palm up, toward the man. “I swear it.”
He pricked her index finger with a ceremonial knife and squeezed the wound until a fat droplet of blood rose to the surface. He guided her finger to a glass disk about the size of a walnut, etched with interlocking swirls, half of which already ran red with Marius’s blood. With one touch of her finger, the glass absorbed her life force and sent it rushing through the empty channels, where it completed the pattern and marked the joining of two families.
It was official. They were wed.
In a rare display of decorum, Marius cupped her chin and tipped her face toward his for a kiss. Cassia closed her eyes and held her breath. She felt a brush of contact at her lips, warm and soft, but beneath it lurked a wicked smile, one that promised he would make her pay once they left the sanctuary of the temple.
From behind, a row of girls sighed dreamily. They knelt on the floor, seeing only what they wanted to see—a blindingly gorgeous young king offering a second chance to the princess who had jilted him. None of them knew what awaited her later in his chambers. None of them knew what their king was capable of.
But she knew.
So she kept her head down during the wedding feast, lifting her gaze and her cup only when a toast called for it. She didn’t bother looking for a friendly face in the banquet hall. She had no friends here. While the court laughed and chattered among themselves, she sat obediently by her husband’s side until the sun’s last rays sliced through the windows and announced it was time to go wait in his suite. Then she stood and exited the room to the sound of whistles, leaving her dignity somewhere behind.