by Roxie Ray
I cleared my throat at the top of the ridge and threw back the hood of my caecus cloak, which had allowed me to slip out of Nightmoor Palace without catching any unwanted attention—sentient, thermal scanner, or otherwise. It had been a gift from Lady Idria, once upon a time, when I was in her favor and the entire world was at my fingertips.
Some nights, such as this, I truly did miss those times.
Both heads turned my way as I dug my heels into the ground of the steep slope and slid down the ridge. The caecus cloak flapped back, blending with the dust I stirred in my wake and the starless night sky behind it. I landed deftly, skidding to a halt just at the base of the cratered crash sight. I crouched and pressed my hand to the ground to bring myself to a full stop.
“Apex,” Ronan breathed with relief. He raised his face to the sky and pressed both sets of his hands together in prayer, though there were no heavenly bodies to pray to here. Not on Nightmoor. “Thank the moons.”
“Thank fuck,” Gallix echoed emphatically. “The baz-terds shot us down! Can you believe that?”
“Yes.” My voice was thin, and my patience was wearing even thinner. They had brought attention to themselves with this crash landing. Attention that I hadn’t needed. If we were not careful, the cover I had so carefully constructed for myself here would be blown. “You imbeciles did not truly think you would be able to land on a prison planet without proper credentials, did you?”
Ronan and Gallix looked at each other, then shrugged.
“We did not have much to go off of,” Ronan admitted.
“Thanks to you,” Gallix snapped. “We tried contacting you the whole way here, and nothing! The least you could have done was thrown us a line!”
“If I could have, I would have.” I scowled, loathing how taxing it would be to explain this all to them. They were not idiots, no—or, at least, Ronan was not—but they were not specters. They did not have my training, my ability to subterfuge and conceal, my cleverness with covert operations and spinning webs of lies. These were warriors who were accustomed to brute-forcing their way through any matter they came across, swords drawn and blasters blazing.
Those tactics would simply not work here.
“Well…we are glad to see you nonetheless, Apex.” Ronan glanced back towards their crashed shuttle. It sparked and crackled and smoked beneath his gaze. “I suppose we should abandon this ship before it catches flame.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “And before the night guard arrives. That would be wise.”
I guided them through the desert until we reached the cave where I had stowed my own shuttle. It was sleeker than that which Ronan and Gallix had taken here, with its own caecus generator for concealment and a carefully fabricated set of credentials for moving in and out of the Nightmoor’s airspace.
If this mission went well, it would be the shuttle we used to take the human, Atlanta, from this forsaken place. If Ronan and Gallix behaved themselves and followed my orders, they might even make it out with us. If they were lucky, too.
Very lucky. Perhaps luckier than they had ever been before in all their lives.
“Do you have sights on the human?” Ronan asked. “We are eager to rescue her as quickly as possible—lest Idria’s agents get to her first.”
“I do.” I retrieved a small holodeck from within the folds of my cloak and placed it on the ground between the three of us. It whirred softly as I brought it to life, casting a pale light over its flat surface that illuminated the cave all around. “But I fear that this will not be a quick operation. You should put those hopes to rest now.”
It was far from the first time I had watched this recording I had made from within the palace. Nightly, I stared upon the awful scene it played, and nightly, I found myself more and more entranced by it.
When I viewed it, it strengthened my resolve. It never failed. My search for Atlanta had bordered on obsession for too long now. First, out of duty—then, slowly, out of something more than that.
It struck fear in me sometimes, the feelings the scene stirred in me. I was a specter. I had not been raised to feel. But this…this was too much for even an agent of my caliber to bear without being moved.
At first, the scene was a simple one. The ballroom of Nightmoor Palace was an opulent one, gilded and glittering with jewels inlaid in every wall. Within it, candles floated overhead to give the room a magical glow. Beneath them, courtiers in silks and ruffles of every color danced in practiced, intricate patterns.
“Thought this was a prison planet,” Gallix grunted as he watched the dancers.
“It does not look like much of a prison to me,” Ronan said slowly in agreement.
“Hush,” I hissed at them. “Watch.”
Slowly, the dancers parted. From their midst, a female stepped out, hips swaying, hands held high overhead. She was dressed in white harem pants and a midriff-bearing, low-cut top. Her waist, wrists and bare feet glistened with gold coins that jingled softly with her every move. Her head was bowed, leaving a cascade of long, impossibly pink waves covering her face like a veil.
Atlanta. It was her. My target. My obsession.
Perhaps even, if all went as planned, my prize.
Her movements were captivating. Gallix tugged at his collar, obviously affected by her beauty, and even Ronan cleared his throat at the sight of her face as she turned it upwards, finally revealing her features. Her full lips were painted to match her hair. Her eyes were bright, shining green beneath dark lashes lined with black kohl.
She was divine, and as her movements quickened, the music that accompanied her swelled as well. She was dancing towards the throne set on small platform near the head of the room. On it sat a tall, slender, red-haired female—not human, this one—surrounded by oiled, shirtless males of all species who poured her wine and fanned her with fronds of greenery.
Gallix growled as he recognized the female presiding over the room.
“Queen Lieja,” Ronan hissed. “This is her prison? She is not locked away for her misdeeds. She is holding court!”
“Watch,” I told them again. This next part was important.
It was the source of my obsession with the human. The reason why, even when all seemed lost, I could not shake her from my mind.
Atlanta moved more quickly than ever, twirling and leaping as though she had performed this dance many times before—though, as I had recorded it, it had been the first time I had seen it with my own eyes. Her feet took her to the base of the platform, then up its steps. Abruptly, the music stopped, and Atlanta fell in a deep bow to Queen Lieja, her shoulders heaving gently as though she was out of breath. Completely spent.
Lieja seemed pleased by this. She stood, applauding softly, then placed a long yellow finger beneath Atlanta’s chin to bid her to rise.
As Atlanta stood, her green eyes glinted wickedly. There in her hand, unseen by anyone but me until it was too late, she slipped a twisted golden dagger from beneath the bracelets of her wrists. As she rose it, the point directed at Lieja’s breast, she did not hesitate.
Though, to my dismay, she was not quite quick enough. Not that time. Queen Lieja’s harem overpowered her before her dagger could bury itself in Lieja’s flesh. Instead, it only drew blood—but even that did not seem to deter Atlanta. She fought them valiantly, struggling even as her arms were pinned until the guards came to drag her away.
The last I saw of her was a wild, fearsome grin on her bright pink lips—then, then holodeck turned off. The scene was done.
“Where did they take her?” Gallix asked.
“Moons…” Ronan bowed his head. “Did they hurt her? Is she safe?”
“I do not know,” I admitted. It was the one thing that irked me about all of this. She had only been there dancing in Lieja’s throne room for one night. I had arrived and been accepted at Lieja’s court just in time to see that single act of defiance. A beautiful, calculated assassination attempt. I had not seen her since. “But I intend to find out—and the two of you will help.
”
Get ready for book 5 in the Lunarian Warriors Series, Her Secret Champion!
Available Soon!
Her Secret Champion
Get ready for book 5 in the Lunarian Warriors Series, Her Secret Champion!
Available Soon!
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Her Healing Warrior
Lunarian Warriors: Book 4
Roxie Ray
© 2020
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are all fictitious for the reader’s pleasure. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are all coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for ADULTS ONLY (+18).
