Temfilk smacked his fish-like lips. “A woman with connections. Sounds good to me!”
“Connections are great,” Klara said cautiously. “What we really need is a plan.”
“How organized is your family?” Moe asked Yirland. “Rapid communication is vital, but it also needs to be secretive.”
Yirland directed a knowing glance toward her companions. “Necessity has already created a women’s underground network. Messages can be passed among us quickly and quietly, and every member is trusted.” She nodded toward Moe. “As are you.”
With very little in the way of technology, Moe was fascinated to discover their method, especially as it pertained to him. “And how would you know that?”
“That cloth tied to your hair is a signal flag to those of us who know what it means,” Yirland replied. “Gray is the color of a trusted comrade.”
He held up the end of a braid. “You mean this? I snatched it off a clothesline and used it to braid my hair as a disguise. Not much of one, I grant you, but it was the best I could come up with at the time.”
Yirland’s brow rose ever so slightly, as did one corner of her mouth, giving her an expression of amused tolerance. “That was undoubtedly taken from a member of our network. It was hanging there as a signal to others that the lady of the house is a trusted member.”
Considering the security necessary for any online technology, Moe considered this method to be a tad haphazard. “Seems like that signal could easily be duplicated by someone wanting to infiltrate the network.”
“True, but one must know that a network exists in order to infiltrate it,” Yirland said with a sage nod. “Our members would die rather than betray their sisters.”
“That’s great,” Klara said. “But you could’ve started a revolution on your own at any time. Why wait?”
“I thought you understood, Klara,” Velkma said gently. “We have been waiting for the right leader.” Her gaze shifted from Klara to Moe and back again. “You are that leader.”
Klara was okay with inspiring a rebellion, but actually leading one was a responsibility she would never have sought. She wasn’t sure she wanted it now, especially if leadership entailed ordering some of those women to their deaths.
“Me?” Klara exclaimed. “Why would you want me as your leader?”
“I believe we have already made our feelings on that subject quite clear,” Yirland said patiently. “We need someone with a history of defiance. Successful defiance. You are that person.”
Klara reminded herself that thus far, this revolution was purely hypothetical. “Okay. Let’s say I agree to lead the troops. Do you intend to lay siege to the palace or stage an all-out assault? Or is an internal coup more to your liking?”
“An assault might be the best strategy from a military standpoint,” Yirland replied. “However, the loss of life would be horrendous, and the same would be true of a prolonged siege. We have set our hopes on a simultaneous uprising of the townspeople and the palace staff. A few of our number have already taken jobs in the palace. Unfortunately, whether by choice or coercion, they have remained silent ever since.”
Klara shuddered. That silence could also mean they were dead.
Moe seemed more optimistic. “They may only be keeping quiet until they receive a sign from you that the revolution is imminent. Create a big enough threat to their security, and it won’t be too hard to convince others to switch sides. When that happens, Pelarus’s regime will collapse.”
“Pelarus has been hunting me for years,” Klara said slowly. “I could easily get inside the palace. All I’d have to do is give myself up.”
“And wind up in the dungeon or the arena? No way!” Temfilk cried.
“She would be more likely to wind up in Pelarus’s bed.” Moe spat out those words with thinly disguised repugnance. “I would be the one to end up in the dungeon or the arena.” With a sly glance at Klara, he added, “And you already know what a slippery fellow I can be.”
Although Klara knew exactly what he meant, it was her turn to object. “None of us is going to risk the dungeon or the arena. There must be a better way.”
“Your role is best played as a leader,” Yirland said wisely. “However, you have had to be cautious for too long, and that caution has become ingrained in your nature. At this stage, some degree of risk is required. Our network has maintained extreme secrecy for many years. Were any of us”—she gestured between herself and her three companions—“to seek employment in the palace, no one in charge would be suspicious.”
“Unless someone rats you out,” Temfilk said. “Your spies might turn on you, you know.”
“There has been no hint of duplicity,” Yirland insisted. “I believe them to be biding their time.” She said this with more hope than conviction.
“All of this getting jobs stuff sounds like it would take forever,” Nexbit said. “Seems like we should move faster.”
“A poorly planned rebellion has little chance of success,” Velkma cautioned. “Since we first formed our alliance, we have been patient, waiting only for the spark to ignite the flames of revolution. As I have said before, Klara, you are that spark. After seeing you openly walking the streets, I believe the inferno has already begun.” She smiled. “Pelarus will soon find himself in a very dangerous predicament. I would not wish to be in his shoes at this moment.”
“Neither would I,” Temfilk declared. “We’re gonna crush that bastard to a pulp!”
Klara wouldn’t have wanted to be in Pelarus’s shoes, either. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure she even wanted to be in her own.
This could get really ugly.
Hours of sitting around Velkma’s table discussing a plan that—hopefully—wouldn’t result in hundreds of fatalities had exhausted Klara more than a thousand sleepless nights.
No one ever said starting a revolution would be easy.
She was grateful to Velkma for providing them with a safe haven for the night, although she wasn’t sure how Moe felt about it. He’d been tight-lipped ever since their hostess had shown them to a room that Klara suspected was Velkma’s own.
She stopped short as Moe tossed one of the pillows on the floor. “We aren’t going to share the bed?”
Arching a brow, Moe stood glaring at her, his folded arms and wide-legged stance clearly displaying his annoyance. “I wouldn’t have thought you would want to, what with me being a criminal and all. I’m surprised you’re even willing to be in the same room with me.” A moue of distaste curved his lips. “A criminal… What in the world made you think that?”
After all that had been discussed that day, Klara was surprised he would bring that topic up now. She honestly didn’t know how to reply, so she wound up repeating herself. “You jumped into a fight that really didn’t concern you with very little provocation. That Herp didn’t mean to hit you, and I was pretty sure you knew that.” She stopped for a moment, recalling his expression when she’d first noticed him. “You looked really angry even before he hit you.”
“That’s because I was angry,” he snarled. “I’ve been angry ever since—” His apparent irritation was instantly replaced by a thoughtful expression as his head tilted very slowly to one side. “Ever since my brother Larry came home with Althea as his mate.”
Moe couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection before, but the timing fit perfectly. He’d made it through the wedding without exploding, but only because there was plenty of tequila on hand. He hadn’t been obviously—and certainly not obnoxiously—drunk, but he’d definitely felt as though he’d had sorrows to drown. He knew Larry had always been Althea’s favorite, but that didn’t change how he’d felt. Let down, rejected, not betrayed, exactly, but something similar. As time went on, he figured he’d gotten over it. Apparently he hadn’t.
“Care to enlighten me?” she said with only a mild show of interest. “Who is Althea?”
“She’s a girl we grew up with. In fact, she’s the only girl we grew up with.”
“We were all in love with Althea in one way or another. From the moment she was born, she had our hearts clutched in her tiny little fists. We were pretty young ourselves—two years old or so—but we all thought she was the cutest thing we’d ever seen.” He paused as a frown briefly tightened his brow. “That never changed as we grew older.”
“I see,” Klara said. “You were jealous when she chose Larry.”
“I suppose I was,” Moe admitted. “Both sets of parents figured she’d wind up with one of our litter. I’ve never been sure whether Curly, our other littermate, really cared. But Larry… Like I said, he was always her favorite. Maybe it was only jealousy. The funny thing is, I remember what her father said when she was born. We were all gathered around to meet the new kids—she had two brothers as well—but we only had eyes for Althea. Her father, Leo, said something then that I’ll never forget.” No, he hadn’t forgotten. But apparently, he’d misunderstood.
“Go on,” Klara prompted him when he didn’t continue right away.
“He said because of her Mordrial blood, there would only be one man for her. He was looking at me when he said it. I’m not sure Larry and Curly were even listening, they were so fascinated with the baby.” He took a breath so deep it hurt almost as much as his heart had done when Larry gave them the good news. “I must’ve thought he meant that I would be that man, that he’d had a vision and knew what the outcome would be. We Zetithians have them from time to time. Visions, I mean.”
“So I’ve been told.” Judging from the dryness of her tone, she might have been told, but she didn’t seem to have been convinced.
He looked down at his hands as his voice fell to a mere whisper. “I wasn’t sure whether you knew or not, but it’s true. Anyway, looking back, I guess he must’ve been trying to tell me that I wasn’t going to be The One, which is what the Mordrial witches call the man destined to be their mate.” He glanced up. “Ever met any Mordrials?”
She shook her head. “Never heard of them.”
“They have psychic abilities and can control at least one of the elements. Althea is an empath who controls fire and earth.”
“Sounds like a dangerous woman.”
“She is, and so is her mother, Tisana. She can shoot fireballs from her eyes.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Actually, Althea can do that too.”
If he’d expected Klara to shudder, he’d have been disappointed. “Sounds like someone our little revolution could use.”
“Yeah, well, the gods only know where either of them are at the moment. Which reminds me…we need to find a comsystem so we can summon the troops. That was what I was going to do this morning. After the bank and breakfast, that is.” He couldn’t help chuckling. “This day sure didn’t turn out like we thought it would, did it?”
“Not at all,” she replied. “Tonight isn’t going so well, either.”
Her slightly aggrieved expression and the obvious reference to their sleeping arrangements brought him right back where they’d started. Moe couldn’t help being a little angry with her for thinking he was a criminal. At least he thought he was. Somehow or other, she’d managed to distract him. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at her with suspicion. “And you’re just trying to make me forget why I was so ticked at you. Are you really that anxious for another hit of snard?”
She threw up her hands in denial. “Just making conversation. I mean, clearly any exchange of snard is out of the question. I would’ve bunked with Temfilk, but I hated to hurt Velkma’s feelings. She’d gone to so much trouble and all.”
He knew he shouldn’t hold her snap judgment against her, but it still rankled. Possibly because he might’ve been in the Pelarus’s dungeons awaiting a turn in the arena if things had gone differently. Even if he’d managed to escape, chances were good that he would’ve wound up right where he was now, arguing with Klara. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stave off an impending headache, which was probably due to the insinuation that he was a criminal, although the howling winds might’ve been responsible.
“We can share the bed if you like,” he finally said. “I could use some decent sleep. Haven’t had much of it lately.”
“Neither have I.” Her voice was softer than he’d yet heard it as she eyed the bed with longing. More longing, perhaps, than she felt for him.
He reminded himself that Zetithian females were notoriously reluctant to mate. Clearly, the Davordian tendency toward promiscuity had been overridden by that particular Zetithian trait.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” she said, a note of pleading in her voice. “I wouldn’t have sold you. Temfilk was all for recruiting you from the beginning. He would’ve talked me into it eventually.” She put up a hand as he started to speak. “And it wouldn’t have taken much talking, either.”
Moe ran a hand through his hair, getting his fingers caught in the braids. Tossing the strips of gray fabric aside, he undid the braids, combing his fingers through the tangled curls. All of a sudden, he was more tired than he’d been in recent memory. His eyes were dry and gritty, his back ached and so did his neck, probably from trying to sleep while sitting against a wall the night before, the bit of nooky notwithstanding.
Klara pulled back the covers on the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, she took off her jacket. Her boots followed. Moe wondered when she would stop, which she didn’t until she was down to her underwear.
She reached out a hand. “Come on, Moe. Take your boots off and lie down. We can sort this out when we’ve rested.”
“You don’t expect to be attacked in the middle of the night?” Considering what Temfilk had told him about her when he’d stood watch the night before, for her to let down her guard to the point of actually undressing was a fairly rare event.
“Believe it or not, I actually don’t. With you and the vast majority of the female population of this city on our side, I feel surprisingly safe.”
“Me being there didn’t stop us from being attacked last night.”
“Maybe not, but you did manage to sound the alarm in time for us to escape.” She was silent for a long moment, then shrugged and climbed beneath the covers. A groan escaped her as she settled her head on the pillow. Granted, it wasn’t much of a bed, but if her bed at their old headquarters was anything like Nexbit’s, this one was a definite improvement over her usual sleeping arrangements. “I’m going to sleep now,” she said with a yawn. “You can sleep wherever you like.”
The ball, as the saying went, was now in his court.
After a brief tussle with his conscience, exhaustion won out over, well, just about any and all arguments against sharing a bed with her.
Snatching the pillow from the floor, he tossed it onto the bed and sat down. The ancient bed frame creaked in protest but withstood the added weight. Suddenly, he didn’t care anymore. Didn’t care whether she thought he was a crook or not. Didn’t care if they were besieged by Nedwuts during the night.
I’ll think about all that tomorrow.
When a sniff in Klara’s direction yielded no hint of desire, he toed off his boots and lay down beside her.
Sleep was as welcome as it was instantaneous.
Chapter 14
Klara’s eyes flew open the moment daylight filtered through the tattered slats covering the lone window above the bed. As she listened closely, alert for any unusual sounds, her sharp hearing informed her that no one had invaded the house during the night. Exhaling a pent-up breath, she settled back against her pillow, savoring a rare moment of relaxation.
She longed for a day when she could simply lie in bed and let the morning unfold without leaping to her feet to assess the status of her gang or hold her breath as she listened for sounds of imminent danger. To simply luxuriate in her bed before rising to prepare a leisurely breakfast and linger over a hot cup of haelt
don tea would be such a joy. So joyous, she might even smile at whomever sat across the table from her.
“What are you thinking?” Moe whispered.
But for his warmth and the occasional shift of his weight, she might’ve forgotten he still lay there beside her. She hadn’t, of course. One didn’t bed down with an amazing, sexy man and not remember him when dawn finally arrived. “Wishful thinking, actually.”
He rose up on one elbow, facing her, his long dark curls draped tantalizingly over his shoulder. “About what?”
She should’ve dismissed the question. After all, her thoughts were her own. They seldom required sharing. Yet he cared enough to ask a second time.
Avoiding his gaze, she stared at the roughly patched ceiling. “I want to cook something.” She paused, frowning as she recalled a more innocent time when she had the freedom to do as she pleased. Almost. “I used to help my mother prepare our meals. The smells, the textures, the activity. It was…comforting. She taught me to make bread, to chop and season vegetables, to make the most of any meat we might have had the good fortune to acquire.” She let out a long, nostalgic sigh. “I even made a fruit pie once. Fruit was scarce, but we’d scrounged as much as we could and saved it for days until we had enough. It was so amazingly good. We didn’t stop eating it until it was all gone.”
“You lived in poverty even then, didn’t you?”
His voice was gentle and filled with understanding, yet she couldn’t suppress a roll of her eyes.
“Practically everyone in this city lives in poverty, or hadn’t you noticed?” She didn’t bother to wait for a response. “We were no different. Mother had a job, but it paid her very little. I can’t imagine how she would’ve kept us all fed if my brothers had lived.” She frowned again. “I think about them all the time. What our lives would’ve been like if they were still alive. If Pelarus hadn’t coveted my mother. If only we’d been allowed to live in peace.”
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