by TR Cameron
“I think Styrris is arrogant and that he will think so.”
The older woman sighed. “I have to agree. You shouldn’t have offered him rum. He can’t afford the loss of the brain cells.”
She laughed. “If he survives what is to come, he could be a useful tool. If not, you may poison him and we’ll move on to the next.”
Gwyn lifted Brielle’s glass which was still full and raised it in a toast to her monarch before she drained it. “Now that, my Empress, is a plan I can believe in.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cali plopped on the chair beside Emalia at the large wooden table in the Leblanc mansion’s kitchen. She didn’t speak and simply ran her hand along the wood grain and made noises of appreciation. Fyre bumped her seat as he crawled under it to take his hundred and seventy-fifth nap of the day—probably, although I may have lost count somewhere in the middle of the afternoon. Finally, the other woman’s restraint snapped.
She slammed the book she was reading onto the table and growled her annoyance. “What do you want, Caliste?” Someone who didn’t know her well might even conclude she was serious.
The girl broke into laughter and her great-aunt joined her. Fyre snorted and radiated amusement across the channel that connected them. “There’s the great-aunt I adore.” She stood and walked a few feet to the cooler, opened it, and retrieved a Coke she’d imported from the tavern. “Do you want anything?”
“No thanks. I’d be up all night if I had caffeine.”
“I could make you tea.”
“Invel will make me tea.”
Cali sat beside the older woman with a knowing grin. “Oh, Invel will take care of you, will he?” The romance that had begun on the surface had blossomed under the waves, and she was entirely glad for it. Her great-aunt had always been a treasure, and it was good to see her happy and no longer quite so solitary.
“Shut it, you,” Emalia said, but her face and eyes both showed her pleasure at the notion.
“So, what have you found out, Leblanc spymaster woman?”
The older woman gestured toward the three stacked listening devices that had been relocated from the table to a shelf. “Well, nothing interesting is going on with House Terriau other than the younger generation plotting their moves for when the matriarch has shuffled off this lifetime.”
“They’re not planning to hasten that, are they? Because I like Icille Terriau a lot.”
Her aunt nodded. “Me too. No, they’re mainly complaining that since I visited, the matriarch is even more annoying than she was before.”
She laughed. “So you’ll keep visiting, right?”
“Oh, hell yes.” Emalia shook her head. “I tell you, young people today—”
Cali interrupted her great aunt with a raised hand. “Shush. What about from the palace?”
“That one’s not useful anymore. The last thing I heard was scraping and muttering, and after listening to it twenty times or so, Invel and I agree. It was the sound of a chair being moved into storage.”
She sighed. “And after all your effort to sneak it in there. That sucks.”
The woman shrugged. “Win some, lose some. The grapevine says Styrris and Brielle got hitched earlier today. The poor girl.” She shook her head. “That man is nauseating.”
“I feel the same. But she chose to marry him, right?”
“Or the choice was made for her. Either way, I wouldn’t wish that fate on an enemy.”
Cali took a long sip of her Coke. Once things settled, finding a supply chain to provide her with glass bottles of the beverage would be one of her top priorities. “And speaking of enemies, what do you hear from the old man himself?”
“Mainly an endless litany of insults and chastisements for his servants and his family. But there was some useful news in there as well. Apparently, a couple of people he was counting on to fight on his behalf have gone missing.”
The girl smiled, then frowned. “Wait. While anything that makes Styrris’s life a little less enjoyable is a-okay in my book, we’re not eliminating his potentials while he’s not looking, are we?”
Emalia shook her head. “None of us here in the house is. And if you aren’t, I guess it could be a coincidence.”
She tapped the table with a fingernail. “That’s an interesting coincidence. By which I mean probably not a coincidence at all. I’d like to know what’s going on there.”
“I’ll talk to some people and see what I can find out.”
“Starting with Icille?”
Her great aunt laughed. “Of course. She’s a treasure trove of gossip.”
Not entirely enthusiastically, Cali had agreed to meet Wymarc for dinner again, solely because she felt she owed him. His appearance to fight alongside her team in the battle against the Atlanteans in New Orleans had been part of what had enabled her to win. That deserved something, at least, even though he’d said no reward was required.
She didn’t like owing people so when he’d asked, she’d accepted, mostly out of a sense of obligation. The rest of the reason was that she genuinely enjoyed his company and friends were hard to come by. Especially friends who were also the leaders of a noble house. You can’t have too many of those.
The venue was somewhere she hadn’t been before, and the menu was filled with unfamiliar dishes. He guided her to a selection of fish that turned out to be wonderful. They talked over the meal about things both unimportant and very important, including the political climate in New Atlantis and the potential fallout from the fight on the surface.
“So, how do you think the loss upstairs affects Empress Shenni?” she asked,
Wymarc paused in mid-bite, set his fork down, and patted his lips with a white napkin. It stood out dramatically against the dark shirt he wore. She’d been surprised when he’d arrived all in black. Her Johnny Cash joke flew right past him, which was understandable but still depressing.
“Well, since that was her plan,” he replied, “it certainly doesn’t make her look good. At best, she’s only lost face so far. If she can install a new group of people and accomplish what she set out to do, this minor glitch will probably be forgotten.”
Cali frowned. “They can’t do that. I won.”
He shook his head. “The particular individuals you fought are the ones who challenged you. New people, new challenge.”
She groaned. “So the whole thing was for nothing?”
“Never that. You accomplished some very important things. First, your city is far more ready to deal with the situation if it happens again. That will give Shenni at least a moment’s pause since she doesn’t want to look stupid a second time. Next, that was the New Atlantis Champion you defeated. Anyone who takes over will be less capable by definition. Finally, the other magicals in the city won’t forget what happened. They’ll be much quicker off the bat from here on out.” He picked his fork up again. “No, your win comes with good things even though not with every good thing you might have wanted.”
“Okay. I can work with that. We’ll focus on getting defenses in place so we’re ready to go if she tries again.”
He chuckled, said, “That’s the spirit,” and finished the red wine in his glass. She poured him another half-portion. “Thanks. So, when will you hear from Styrris, do you think?”
“Emalia tells me she assumes he’ll have something to say tomorrow. He got married today. Did you know that?”
Wymarc nodded. “I did. That word traveled like wildfire. It’s a big deal, marriage between the houses.”
“I assume it doesn’t happen often because no one wants to give up their power to join with another house?”
“You nailed it in one.”
Cali sipped the wine in her glass, then asked, “So why do you think she did it?”
He shrugged. “Almost certainly, she was pressured to. By the Malniets or people in her family, or maybe even the Empress herself. There’s no way I can see anyone agreeing to marry him, much less someone as young as Brielle Cormier.”
>
“That’s Emalia’s take on it, too.”
“She’s a smart woman. I’m not sure how you missed out on that genetic bonus.”
She laughed and made a rude gesture at him. “Why did I agree to have dinner with you again?”
“Because I’m never boring.”
“That’s…very fair.” She laughed because he’d earned the point. “Good deal.” The conversation moved on to other topics and by the time they left, she realized that she was truly enjoying herself. Her mind had even let its multitude of worries go for a while to allow it to happen, which was impressive in and of itself.
The sight of six figures blocking their path as they turned toward the palace was an unwelcome discovery. They were in pairs, two in the front, the next two on the right, and those in the back on the left. Of those closest, one was clearly older—a woman who, in this light, resembled Styrris but was a couple of decades or so less ancient. She spoke harshly. “Hello, Leblanc.”
Wymarc sighed and twisted to face Cali. “Seriously? Before you ask, no, this isn’t me. Can’t you have one pleasant night out without someone trying to kill you, and by extension, me?” He didn’t give her time to answer but turned to the woman who had spoken. “This is the part where you tell me I can leave as long as I don’t get involved, right?”
Their apparent enemy smiled and shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Patriarch. The orders are for both of you. You’ve chosen your side and as usual, your decision is unwise.”
He frowned. “That’s not very polite.”
She rolled her eyes and looked at his companion. “Any last words, Matriarch?”
Cali sent a mental message to Fyre, who was flying invisibly overhead, and readied herself to attack. Before she could open her mouth to reply, Wymarc intervened. “Now would be good,” he said.
With quick and brutal efficiency, the four in the back swarmed over the two in the front, attacked them before they had time to even register the apparent betrayal, and took advantage of their defenselessness. In moments, the two were on their knees with their hands behind their heads, weaponless and angry.
She turned to him. “Do you care to explain?”
He shrugged. “It was inevitable that Styrris would send someone to assassinate you. I reached out to my mercenary friends who, generally speaking, view the Malniets as a family of scumbags. I offered to double whatever payment they got for intervening at my request. Or, if I wasn’t with you, they would have acted on their own judgment.”
Cali shook her head. “Why?”
“I would think that would be obvious. I wronged you and I’m determined to make it right.”
“We’re even after this, I think.”
The young man chuckled. “On the day that we manage to go out to dinner without getting attacked, I’ll consider the debt paid.”
“Okay, deal.” She laughed before she looked at the captives with a frown. “What should we do with those two?”
“They’re minor players in the house but it wouldn’t do to have them telling tales. The dungeons below the Jehenel mansion are reasonably clean and well kept. They can stay there for a while until your disagreement with Malniet is resolved.”
“It’d be easier to kill them,” one of the mercenaries who had turned on the others observed. “It would send a message, too.”
“Easier, sure, but wasteful,” Wymarc replied. “Today’s enemy is tomorrow’s ally.” He gestured at the two prisoners. “Get them to my place. I’ll meet you there.”
He’d make a good boyfriend, Fyre sent into her mind.
She returned, Shut up you, but was secretly pleased that the Draksa had decided to forgive the patriarch for his initial foolishness. As if I have time for a relationship, anyway.
Her partner laughed. As if you could get one if you did.
Cali shook her head. You’re lucky I need you, scale-face, or it’d be curtains for you. Curtains, I say. His laughter echoed in her ears as she turned to Wymarc. “So, how about we try this whole escorting-me-home thing again?”
Chapter Fourteen
A messenger from Malniet had arrived and been rebuffed by Emalia, who acted as Cali’s representative. If Styrris wouldn’t arrive himself, she couldn’t afford the loss of face to speak to his underling. Which is stupid, wasteful, and a whole horde of other adjectives. Instead, the girl stayed in the kitchen, drinking hot chocolate and throwing marshmallows at Fyre.
The Draksa snatched them in mid-air with quick snaps of his snout. His goal was to allow none to hit the floor. Her goal was to bean him between the eyes. She hadn’t managed it yet but was confident that over a long enough timeline, he’d let his guard down. And this nonsense with the messenger leaves me with nothing but time.
She felt less relieved about the resolution of the situation with the Atlantean gang than she’d expected to. While it was an issue off her plate, it wasn’t the greatest one. She still had to defeat the Malniets to get the answer she needed—the solution to how to keep her brother alive. Having the sword was useless without that additional knowledge unless she wanted to release him from his magical protections only to watch him fade away.
And double-damned Styrris Malniet is delaying and delaying. Coward. It’s not like he’ll even show up and fight himself. She would never get that lucky. No, the patriarch of the enemy house would secure the best fighters available and send them against her and her friends. Her greatest fear was that he’d want big numbers on each side. His wealth and influence were greater than hers and that might leave her at a disadvantage. Emalia was on that, as well, rounding up what funds they could easily put their hands on and researching allies for rent in New Atlantis.
Both Wymarc and Tanyith had suggested that perhaps cutting the head off the enemy outside the rules would be the better choice, and she’d seriously considered following their advice. But the only way to ensure that she got what she wanted was to defeat them in the ritual, which would compel them to release the knowledge to her. Any other route gave them an out to deny her demand.
When the third knock on the door came, Fyre twisted his head and she managed to hit her target. “Yes!” she crowed. “Cali wins! Cali wins!” He turned to look at her with annoyance and discharged a small fog of frost breath at her. She spun out of her chair, laughing, and pointed a finger at him. “Hey. Play fair. It’s not my fault you’re so easily distracted.”
“You have to sleep sometime. It’ll be a cold, frosty night for you.” His playful growl always made her happy.
Emalia stepped into the kitchen. “The meeting is set.” They both turned to face her. “Two hours. On the palace grounds, equally between the houses.”
She sighed. “So symbolic. So dramatic. Idiot.” She shook her head and corrected herself quickly. “Styrris. Not you.”
Her great-aunt chuckled. “I know, sweetheart. He’ll almost certainly have people out watching the area already. You should do the same.”
“Invel and Fyre?”
“Unless there are more folks hanging around here who I’m unaware of. I don’t think Scoppic wants to be disturbed. He’s lost in a history of Oriceran that dates before any of the others we’ve found.”
Cali grinned. “Well, we wouldn’t want to interrupt him, then. Jenkins,” she asked the air, “you’re bound to the house, right?”
The disembodied majordomo replied, “To the grounds, Matriarch Caliste. Although I am strongest within the mansion.”
“Why?”
He laughed. “That is beyond my knowledge, Matriarch. You would have to ask your ancestors.”
“Fair enough. So, you and Emalia can hold down the fort here in case they try something, Invel and Fyre will keep an eye out before, during, and after, and I’ll meet Styrris and see what he has to say.” She headed to the stairs to change and muttered, “Why do I always wind up with the worst jobs?”
Her dressing room was mostly a disaster as she had a tendency to try things on and toss them aside rather than putting them back where they belo
nged. Since her visits to New Atlantis were invariably on the run, she hadn’t yet managed the second part of the cycle where she cleaned the chamber. Emalia would have done it for her—or hired someone to—but she refused. This was her special place and she didn’t want anyone messing with it.
Cali pawed through the outfits still hanging in the tall wooden wardrobe and sighed at her failure to discover anything she liked. Next was the dresser, created from the same unfamiliar wood as the larger piece of furniture. Again, nothing appealed to her. She sifted through the stacks of previously discarded clothes on the room’s large comfortable chairs and the footrests that went with them, those on the hook on the back of the door and the door handle, and even some suspended on the rod that held the curtains covering the wide window.
Finally, she found some things she could work with. Heavy black denim jeans that were a little baggy plus a pair of matching work boots would do for the bottom layer. The footwear was high enough to hide the sheaths for throwing knives inside, so she added them. Not that I’m particularly good at it but it’s always better to have more options than less, right? Next up was a dress in black and red that fit her tightly but stretched when she needed to move. It reached her hands with a piece that went between her fingers to keep it properly positioned. She slid her magic bracelets over it.
Finally, a stylish belt of silver links finished the outfit. She slipped her daggers into sheaths on each side as weapons hadn’t been specifically prohibited. Ostensibly, it was for display purposes only, but she had little doubt that Styrris would be equally well-armed, either with physical blades or magical ones. She checked the look in the mirror, pulled her hair out of its ponytail and shook it free, and decided it was good enough for her meeting with the desiccated leader of her rival house.
Fyre, flying high above the palace grounds, spoke into her mind. He’s left his mansion.
Cali nodded and stepped out the door, which Emalia closed behind her. She tried to imagine what Styrris’s walking pace would be and slowed hers by half to match it. It wouldn’t do to be the first one there—or the last one. No, we have to arrive together for some bizarre and stupid reason.
