A male voice cried out in pain behind her. She paused, halfway to the table, or where she thought the table was. It was hard to see anything in the smoke. Had that been Tristan? It had sounded like him.
Staying low, Nalini moved back toward the cry—toward Tristan. If he’d come to warn Jorg and that ass killed him…
More weapons fired as the thuds and grunts of men fighting hand-to-hand punctuated the terrified shouts of the guests. Nalini knew she was nuts for not hiding under the table or getting the hell out of the room, but so many people were gunning for Tristan. She couldn’t leave him.
She kicked something, and it skidded several feet along the floor. A stunner. She lunged and plucked it up.
She felt better armed, though she still worried she was being a fool for not fleeing. Footsteps thundered past, the dark shapes of men charging through the smoke. An unfamiliar figure loomed up before her—a stranger with a rifle. He didn’t look at her. He was running for the door.
Before she could think better of it, Nalini fired. The nimbus of the stunner caught him, and he tumbled to the floor, his rifle clattering away from him.
Another armed man sprang out of the smoke and into her view, and she fired as he was bringing his rifle to bear on her. Just in case she was too late, she lunged to the side, fearing he would shoot before the stun effect took hold. But he seemed to recognize her and didn’t fire. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped to the floor.
These men weren’t here for her, not this time. An orange energy bolt streaked over her head, and she flinched. They could still kill her by accident.
“We’ve got him!” someone shouted from the corridor. “Clear out.”
Who did they have? Jorg? Or were they yelling that they’d taken down Tristan?
Nalini kept going in the direction she’d last seen him. Sweat slicked her palm, but she didn’t dare tuck away the stunner.
It grew quiet in the ballroom save for a few groans of pain here and there. Most of the guests must have found an exit.
Had Tristan run out in the smoke without her seeing? Maybe he’d charged after the kidnappers.
She was on the verge of turning for the exit when she picked out a prone figure on the floor. Even before she could make out his face, she knew it was Tristan. Blood trickled from his ear, and he wasn’t moving.
Fear clutched her heart as she lunged forward and dropped to her knees beside him. His eyes were closed. Had he been stunned? Surely not killed.
She rested her hand on his back. “Tristan?”
Nalini glanced around, hearing rustlings in the smoky room, the moan of an injured woman to her left.
When he didn’t move, she shook his shoulder. “Please be all right. I didn’t get a chance to say… anything, damn it. Why didn’t you tell me you were running off to pick a fight with Jorg?” Her throat was tight with emotion, and the words came out rougher and more accusatory than she intended.
She shifted her hand, fingers trembling, and reached toward his throat to check for a pulse. But dread froze them before they reached his skin. If he was all right, simply stunned, she vowed to kiss him later, no matter what his damnable honor said. If he wasn’t…
His eyelids fluttered, and her soul soared.
“Tristan.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Wake up. We have to get out of here.”
He blinked a few times before his eyes focused. He might have been clubbed in the head rather than stunned. She wanted to take him back to her suite, to pull him into her bed, and cuddle with him until he felt better. Forget Jorg and whatever trouble had found him.
“I know,” he rasped, wincing as he pushed himself up on one elbow.
He pulled a compact electronic device out of his pocket, a flashing dot on the glowing display. Nalini was surprised to recognize it.
“Is that the tracking device Devi wanted to use on you before we left on my trip?”
“Yes. I stuck the pin in Jorg’s pocket when we grappled.”
“That’s why you attacked him?”
“This time, yes.”
Nalini thought about telling him that she’d seen Samar’s video of the first time, and finding a way to more thoroughly express how much she appreciated that he’d defended her honor, but he was already pushing himself to his feet. He wobbled a little, one arm spreading for balance, then strode toward the exit. He gripped the tracker in his free hand.
“He’s on the move,” Tristan said. “They’re probably taking him to a ship in one of the bays, but I can’t be sure. It sounded like they might kill him, not kidnap him. Don’t worry. I’ll find him. You should stay here.”
Nalini gripped his arm as he headed out into the corridor—it was also smoky out there.
“Wait, you should stay here too. You’re injured.”
He shook his head, his jaw set, blood drying on the side of his neck, and he switched from a stride to a run. “I’ve got the tracker. I have to go. Tell your security people I can find him. I just wanted to let the terrorists get out of the ballroom since there were so many people.”
Nalini picked up her pace, trying to keep up, but the ivory shoes restricted her movement. She snarled, tore them off, and sprinted after him barefoot. She couldn’t tell her security people where the prince was being taken until she knew herself.
Tristan ran around one turn and then the next, then to a fire-ladder well instead of a lift farther down the corridor. As Nalini followed him, doing her best to keep up, she sent a message to Chief Namjoo.
Chief—where did your people go? She hoped they were on the heels of the terrorists and would end up in the same place as Tristan. We’re following a tracking device that’s in the prince’s pocket.
Princess Nalini! came the prompt reply. You must stay away from the intruders. Please, go to your suite.
Uh, we may actually be headed that way. She’d expected Tristan to head down toward the ship bays instead of up, but he was climbing toward the levels of personal quarters.
We are doing our best to capture the men who masqueraded as your colleagues before they escape to their ship.
Masqueraded as her colleagues? She thought of the fierce armed men who’d invaded the ballroom and started shooting. None of them would have passed as businessmen. Was Namjoo after someone else?
Tristan lunged out of the ladder well on one of the levels that held servants’ quarters. Why would Jorg have been dragged up here?
Still a level below, Nalini lost sight of him. She pushed her legs to power up the rungs more quickly. There were numerous corridors up there, and if she lost track of which way he went, she wouldn’t be able to catch up. He might prefer that, for her to be safe and out of the way, but he was already injured. If there were as many men surrounding the prince as she feared, even he might not stand a chance. He wasn’t wearing combat armor or even a galaxy suit.
Maybe she was foolish to believe she could help, but she had the stunner, and she wasn’t half bad at negotiating deals. Maybe she could reason with whoever was in charge.
As she reached the level where he’d gotten out, a hand gripped her wrist, pulling her up the last few rungs and out into the corridor. Tristan. He’d waited.
“I can’t help but notice that you’re following me instead of hiding.” He smiled quickly at her but soon focused on the tracker and the corridor it was leading him down.
“I’ve seen you fight…” Nalini was breathing harder than he was and struggled to get the words out before he took off again. “The safest place to hide… is behind you.”
“I doubt that’s true.” He waved for her to follow and ran down the corridor, but not so fast that she couldn’t keep up.
“Also… Namjoo is after some… imposters pretending… to be my colleagues.” She gulped for air as they rushed past the closed doors of servants’ quarters. She hadn’t realized how long the palace corridors were. “He may not have any idea… about the people who really… have the prince.”
“No, I think that’s who has him
. But they may have split into two groups.”
Tristan slowed down, alternately glancing at the doors and at his tracker.
“He’s either in here,” he whispered, “or the guys who grabbed him found the tracker and stuck it in someone else’s pocket.”
The idea seemed so plausible that Nalini sagged against the wall in defeat.
“Just in case, tell your security people we’re here. At… Room 511-H. Do you know who lives here?”
“No idea.”
“Right. Can you open this?” He waved at a security pad on the wall—if the door had been unlocked it would have opened already.
“Yes. I can access anything in the palace.”
“Good. Maybe they won’t be expecting company.” Tristan glanced up, but there wasn’t a camera above the door, not like there was for entrances to the royal suites. “None of these cabins have back ways in, do they?”
Nalini shook her head. “Sorry.”
She knew of ventilation ducts but nothing large enough to crawl through.
Tristan pulled something from his pocket. One of the smoke grenades that the intruders had been hurling into the ballroom. He must have snagged it from one of them.
“If I run into a fight, go get help.” Tristan rested his thumb on the grenade tab. “Don’t come in. Don’t risk yourself for him.”
“Why are you risking yourself for him?”
“My sense of duty and honor requires it.”
“That sounds inconvenient.”
He smiled sadly. “Sometimes, it is.” He nodded for her to unlock the door and stood off to the side.
She pressed her palm to the pad, staying off to the other side.
As soon as the door opened, crimson DEW-Tek bolts whizzed out, hitting the corridor wall on the far side. Nalini scooted farther back and flung out an order to Namjoo to get his men up to 511-H. They had the right place.
20
Tristan, well aware that he wasn’t wearing combat armor, threw his smoke grenade into the room toward the source of the gunfire. The energy bolts blasting through the doorway paused for a second. That was all he needed.
With his pertundo in hand, he dove in, somersaulting across the floor and smashing into the legs of one of the shooters. He leaped up, slamming his blade into an armored shoulder as he took in the rest of the room with his peripheral vision. Smoke already hazed the air, but he could see outlines.
A second armored gunman spun toward him. There were more unarmored men in the back, standing in front of a prone figure who must be Jorg—he was tied and gagged on a carpet next to a bed. Those men couldn’t fire at him without hitting their own guards, so Tristan focused on the closest two first.
He slammed a side kick into the chest of the second man as he wrenched his pertundo deep into the shoulder of his original target. The guard screamed as the high-tech blade cut into flesh. Lightning sprang forth, shorting out the electrical components of his armor.
Tristan ripped the man’s rifle out of his grip and threw it into the corridor.
He glimpsed Nalini creeping through the doorway and hugging the wall, her stunner in hand. Nobody was looking at her, but Tristan roared as he retracted his blade, then swung and cracked it into the helmet of the man in front of him—he wanted to draw everybody’s attention toward him.
Glasnax crunched. Tristan pulled his attack up short, so it wouldn’t cut through the man’s skull as well as his helmet, then kicked him toward the people in the back—they were spinning to target him with pistols. His injured foe flew several feet and landed in the middle of them, tripping on Jorg and falling to the floor.
The second armored man, the one Tristan had kicked, recovered. He snarled a curse as he pointed his rifle. Tristan dropped to the floor a split second before energy bolts streaked over his head.
Terrified that they would hit Nalini as she sneaked in, Tristan roared again and sprang up, charging the man.
His foe shifted his rifle to target him again, but Tristan was too fast. He barreled into the armored man, grabbing him about the waist and hefting him into the air. Powerful fists slammed down into his back. Tristan barely felt the pain. He spun around twice, gaining momentum, and flung his foe into the wall hard enough to dent his armor.
A stunner fired, and Tristan whirled and dropped low, afraid someone was targeting Nalini. But she was the one shooting. She stayed calm, unnoticed in the smoke, and picked off the men charging toward Tristan.
He spotted someone with a bladed weapon—was that a sword?—standing over Jorg, poised to kill. Nalini couldn’t stun him from her position—there was furniture in the way. The man was a second from cleaving Jorg in half.
Tristan hurled his pertundo like a throwing axe.
The blade lodged in the man’s chest with a meaty thud before he could swing downward with the sword. Jorg curled up in a ball as much as his bonds would allow. The sword tumbled from his attacker’s fingers, thumping down onto the carpet. The man thumped down beside it, half-burying Jorg.
Tristan peered around the smoky room for more threats. He’d knocked out the first armored man. The second was stirring. Tristan strode toward him, but the man glanced around the room, then sprinted for the exit.
Nalini, still crouched by the wall, fired at him, but the stunner nimbus didn’t penetrate his armor. He disappeared into the corridor.
Before Tristan could decide if he should race after him, Jorg groaned. He was wiggling out from under the dead man.
Tristan walked over and hauled the corpse away.
Jorg stared up at him, eyes huge. He appeared more furious than grateful, and Tristan was tempted to leave him gagged until Nalini’s security people arrived. But Jorg jerked up his tied wrists. Tristan retrieved his pertundo and carefully used the blade to cut off the bonds. Jorg pulled off his own gag. The first thing he did was swear—a great deal.
Then he glared at Tristan and Nalini and said, “I detest this system and this station.”
“It doesn’t look like they love you much either.” Nalini pointed at a man Tristan hadn’t noticed before. He was bound and gagged and half hidden behind the bed. “I think this is one of our butlers. This must be his room.”
Tristan helped Jorg to his feet, then walked over to join her. The smoke had cleared enough that he had no trouble recognizing Dom.
He was conscious and stared warily up at Tristan. Did he expect Tristan to attack him? Why would he? Unless…
“How much did they offer you to look the other way?” Tristan asked quietly.
Or had it been even more than that? Had Dom volunteered the use of his quarters for Jorg’s assassination?
Dom winced and avoided his gaze. Tristan didn’t say anything else. He didn’t think he needed to. Jorg’s people could deal with the double-crossing agent.
“Thanks for the help.” Tristan waved at Nalini’s stunner and smiled at her.
“You’re welcome.”
He was tempted to hug her, but Jorg was glowering in their direction, and footsteps thundered in the corridor.
“That’s Namjoo and his men,” Nalini said.
“Better late than never?” Tristan murmured.
“Those who come late get to clean up the mess. That’s the rule.” She eyed the man who’d died to Tristan’s pertundo—and the blood staining the carpet under him.
Tristan didn’t regret his choice since, whoever he was, he’d been about to murder Jorg, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he was on the right side. If being a knight and being loyal to King Jager—and his heirs—was truly what was best for the Twelve Systems. Maybe it didn’t matter now. Unless Jorg had a change of heart, Tristan would never be able to return to Odin or have the career of his dreams.
He slumped against the wall, feeling too weary to worry about it further that night.
* * *
Nalini watched Tristan slumping against the wall, his eyes closed, and worried that he was injured. They had won, hadn’t they? Why didn’t he feel jubilant? Because Jorg w
as sitting on the bed, rubbing his wrists and glowering at them?
To hell with that man.
She set the stunner aside and slipped her arms around Tristan. He hesitated but then returned the hug, resting his face against her hair.
As she’d expected, Chief Namjoo and several of his frazzled security officers rushed into the room. What she hadn’t expected was for her father to rush in right after them.
Nalini knew she should pull back from Tristan, especially since she hadn’t had a chance to tell her father that she wouldn’t marry Jorg, but she didn’t. She was tired after the long day and the race through the palace, and she just wanted to lean against Tristan. And for him to keep resting his face on her head. She also didn’t want him to think she was embarrassed about her feelings for him and would hide them. Let the palace know.
Tristan, noticing her father in the room, was the one to release her. He stepped away from the wall and clasped his hands behind his back to face him, like a man ready for punishment.
No way. Jorg had already given him enough crap. Nalini would not allow Tristan to be punished here in the palace, not when he’d saved her life the week before and had now saved the life of an obnoxious, arrogant prince who hadn’t deserved to be saved. Jorg hadn’t said as much as thank you, and he didn’t speak as Namjoo led him away while his officers dragged out the unconscious men.
“Father,” Nalini started as Samar slipped through the doorway, coming to stop behind their father. “I need you to know—”
“My daughter.” Her father rushed forward and wrapped her in a hug. “Why did you risk yourself to chase those assassins? That was not your duty.”
“I had to help Tristan.”
“Help him? You are not some warrior woman.” Her father held her at arm’s length and looked down at her bare feet. “Warrior women wear shoes proper for chasing down villains.”
“Or just shoes, period,” Samar said.
“Tristan didn’t complain about my footwear,” Nalini said. “He never does.”
“She probably was safer staying with him than remaining in the ballroom,” Samar said. “Did you see what happened to your throne? And the ice sculptures on the buffet tables? Of course, one doesn’t think much of it if something as temporary as an ice sculpture explodes. It’s more alarming when it happens to a throne.”
Knight Protector: a Star Kingdom novel Page 21
