by Emma Alisyn
She straightened from her bow. “The ultimate task.”
He smiled. “Were you aware the Mogrens ruled during the 6th dynasty? Not on this continent, of course. Before our migration.”
“Yes, I know the history.”
“Of course, you do. Every garling of ours knows the history.” His eyes held hers, kind but stern. A deep, forest-green. Lavinia had not had children, he was the son of her brother. “You are ours, are you not? No matter what other blood flows in your veins, you bear our name and have born our burden. You have not shamed us.”
She lowered herself to a knee, bowing her head. That she had not shamed them was the highest praise a family head could give a half-blooded, half-gargoyle, unsanctioned child like her.
“Succeed, and you will have done what none of us could. That is why you will be made second only to me. Because you will have proved yourself the best of us.”
Rhina rose. “I must go, Sire.”
He reached out a hand, placed it on her shoulder for a brief, searing moment. “Take our pride and admonishment with you.”
“Success or death,” she said.
Lourden inclined his head. “Success or death.”
She hesitated as she exited. “Sire, Tyra . . . .”
His brow rose. “What of her?”
“She is innocent.”
The indifferent expression on his face didn’t change. “No one is innocent.”
“Do I have your permission to take her with me?”
Lourden’s eyes narrowed. “One low-level family member is not worth jeopardizing the task.”
“I won’t jeopardize the task. I've already made arrangements.”
He paused for a second. “Your mercy does you credit, but see it is reserved only for those who deserve it. Moghrenna, do this thing, and your mother’s name in our family will be restored as well.”
Rhina couldn’t afford the split-second freeze, neither physically or mentally, but she heard the words, and later she would allow the shock of them to penetrate. Her mother’s name restored. No longer the shamed Mogren who had suicided, but the deceased mother of the Heir; a female who had provided the family with another generation.
She slipped out of the cell, locking it behind her, and forced herself to think about the present. He hadn’t forbidden she take Tyra with her. Rhina didn’t know why Lourden didn’t take this opportunity to leave, but there had to be a reason. He was here because he wanted to be here. Which meant he’d lied, and she wasn’t the only contingency plan in place.
There had to be at least one more.
There was no time to let her thoughts calculate possibilities. She’d spent a precious five minutes speaking to Lourden. Pausing at Tyra’s cell, she unlocked the door and opened it.
“There’s no time,” she said sharply when the female looked up. “Let’s go.”
Tyra didn’t move. It occurred to Rhina then that her glamour was still in place. Lourden had known her right away. Tyra wasn’t privy to her talents, however.
Rhina relaxed the glamour just enough for her silver-white hair to shimmer into sight and her human, hazel eyes to shift to dark, narrow eyes. Eyes and hair from her unknown father, along with abnormally-sharp cheekbones and a narrow jawline.
“Moghrenna!” she exclaimed. “How—never mind.”
“Success or death,” Rhina said, brusque, stepping aside. No one outside the family knew their real motto. It was a secret, and a password. Those who betrayed it were executed, without second thought.
Tyra hurried out of the cell, wings tight to her body. “I knew there was something about you. You’re the current Dark Horse, aren’t you?”
Rhina didn’t say anything, just relocked the cell and strode down the corridor, glancing at the time on her unit. The Dark Horse, the Mogren family assassin and spy sent on special missions, identity known only by the family head, heir, and master of the Guard. An assassin also trained to commit suicide should the need arise, who didn’t get involved with daytime political matters.
She didn’t confirm or deny. Even with the house in shambles, that information wasn’t such that she wanted it bandied about.
“We have three minutes,” Rhina said. “Follow me, obey instructions, and don’t talk.”
Tyra nodded. Even though she was just the family chef and a minor cousin, every Mogren had basic training in what to do in military situations. Namely, keep your mouth shut, obey orders, and be prepared to die if necessary.
Rhina reached out and placed her hand on Tyra’s shoulder. The glamour shimmered and expanded, sliding over the female like a second skin until her grey skin was washed a pale, human-brown and her glossy, dark hair became sandy-brown. Wings were covered by the illusion of a long trench coat. A bit heavy for the season, but this was Seattle, and rain was always expected.
The elevator slid open to the basement level. “We’ll take the stairs from here.”
They appeared human, and because of the mixed species catering staff, two human women walking up the stairs in this part of the tower would go unnoticed. Guards would take the elevator.
They ascended, passing the kitchen and emerging onto the first floor. Rhina led Tyra across the grounds to where the transport idled, the driver scrolling through his screen while he waited.
Rhina checked the decal on the window out of habit, then pressed the door. It was a vintage, sedan-style vehicle, and Tyra’s wings would be a tight fit next to Rhina. They slid in, and the car rolled off. This last part was risky. She had to maintain contact with Tyra to keep the glamour going, which meant her presence at work would be missed soon. Probably before Tyra’s presence would be missed. That the Ioveanus didn’t tag their prisoners was another sloppy procedure, based on the premise that breaking someone out was impossible. She just hoped Lourden knew what he was doing. Once Tyra was missed, Geza, Malin, and the Council would review all their precautions, and Sir Nikolau would ensure any gaps were closed. Which meant updating technology.
She wouldn’t be able to break Lourden out. Which reinforced that he was exactly where he wanted to be.
The hired vehicle dropped them off at Rhina’s apartment block. She’d been gone forty-five minutes now, an extended lunch break, and began crafting an excuse in her mind. Illness would probably do it, or the alarm in her apartment going off and having to be manually reset.
Once they were inside Rhina’s efficiency, she released Tyra. The female’s true features shimmered into view, and she turned to stare at Rhina.
“Are you at liberty to explain?” she asked.
Rhina considered the question, what she might and might not be allowed to tell her. “Lourden authorized your escape.”
Tyra’s eyes widened in surprise. Rhina understood. It was odd for a family head to pay attention to support staff.
“It wasn’t his idea,” Rhina added. “I was there to speak with him and—” she stopped, uncomfortable. She didn’t want to admit that she’d been personally outraged by Tyra’s situation. Guilty merely by blood. The others who’d actually been involved in the plot against the Ioveanus . . . well, that was the risk they all took. Innocents shouldn’t have to fall as well, no matter what the family motto was.
“He wouldn’t have cared if I remained or got out,” Tyra said. “If a valued member of the family falls, what matter is it if the cook is collateral damage as well?”
“It matters to me. We deserve our fates, we’re soldiers.” Rhina turned away. That was the only conformation she could give that Tyra's guess about her secret identity was correct. “I have to get back to work. Stay here, don’t leave. We’ll talk tonight.”
Geza hid his fury, stretching his legs up on his desk, but fooling no one. Nikolau’s expression was cold as security finished briefing them about the breach and was dismissed pending further discussion.
“It has to be the person we missed,” Nikolau said. “The unsanctioned birth.”
Kausar grunted. “That’s a probability. Don’t focus on that and ignore other leads.”
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“Is Malin on his way here?” Geza asked. He’d had his brother alerted immediately. There were procedures to follow whenever a possible threat to Geza’s life was discovered. Because any threat on him would either also be a threat on Malin and his family, and/or would possibly mean he would have to take over rule. With his increasing recovery from the degenerative disease, the issues were in the back of everyone’s mind all the time . . . whether Malin was the rightful Prince.
“He’s securing the Princesses,” Niko said, “and then will attend you here.”
Geza stood, abandoning the indolent pose. He wasn’t very good at sitting still and more and more lately had found himself dissatisfied with delegating most of his duties to staff. The parties, the females, none of it meant anything to him, anymore. Maybe he was growing up. He grimaced. Or going insane.
“Here,” Kausar said as the office door slid open. Then, the tech they’d been waiting ten minutes for, finally arrived.
She bowed, then straightened and laid her device on Geza’s desk. He’d worked with her before . . . Camra. A lean, competent female, older than many of the staff who worked for him and still unmated. Her fingers moved like lightning on the touchscreen of her device as she spoke.
“See, here. It’s a loop. I received notification of a breach in our firewall about two hours ago. It was designed to look like a normal hack.”
“What's a normal hack?” Geza asked, irritated. “Why is there such a thing as a normal hack?”
She pushed her long hair behind her ear, blinking, face lighting up as she began to speak in a slew of technical terms. He held out a hand, the other rubbing his forehead.
“Please, pretend I only passed my university courses because my father bribed the professors.” Which wasn’t that far from the truth. He wasn’t stupid, he just hated listening. And writing. And exams. And anything that smacked of the memorization of useless information he’d never need to use.
“Oh, absolutely. Basically, we were attacked to hide an attack, and while we were busy chasing the fake attack to uncover another fake attack—and I’m not stupid, I knew it was a fake—the real attack was going on.”
“Right.” He’d asked her to simplify her language, so he had only himself to blame.
“I'll uncover the real feed, it will just take a bit of time. We’ll have visuals in just about . . . .” She worked for a few moments.
After a time, she began to frown, and when a curse slipped from between her lips, Geza snapped. “What is it?”
Camra chewed on her bottom lip, eyes narrowed. “This isn’t right.” She straightened. “Sire, I need to check on something, and I’ll report back in thirty minutes, if I have your leave.” She was already snatching up her device and walking out of the door in a half-run.
Geza stared at her. “Sure,” he said, voice dry. “You’re dismissed.” Glancing at Kausar, “Have someone accompany her. She may need help.”
He nodded and stepped away a few feet to speak into his comm unit.
“Got it,” Niko said, reading the screen of his tablet. His lips curved in a grim, bloodthirsty smile, and he met Geza’s eyes. “We know who the unsanctioned birth is.”
“Who?”
“Female, Moghrenna Mogren, daughter of Alexa Mogren, father unknown.”
It was a punch in the gut.
He remembered Moghrenna, of course. First as a young girl, then as a young woman. Silent, long, silver hair and slanted, dark eyes set in a face with bones a touch too angular. Nearly as tall as him, with unconscious grace even a gargoyle female couldn’t quite match, as if her bones were hollow. All stamps of the inhuman, not-gargoyle blood of her mysterious father. Alexa had never confided in him, had shut down whenever he’d brought it up.
“If you want to go to him, I can help you,” he’d offered Alexa once, during one of her few stays at summer court on retainer as a servant to her family head, as gently as he knew how. He was used to dealing with his mother when she’d lived, and Surah, and Surah’s mother. All icy, hard females who’d sooner slit your throat than display a weakness. Alexa’s frailty both drew and repelled him.
She was a Mogren. “No,” she’d said. “I would never get away with it, and my daughter would suffer.” Her lips curved in a smile. “Besides, he is married, and his wife is very dangerous.”
Geza, even as young as he’d been, had understood. Had done nothing except be kind to the girl when she would come out of her hiding places. Silent, wary, her sidelong looks a combination of suspicion and curiosity he knew would harden into Mogren hatred. Especially after her summer at court, during her sixteenth year. The bullying she’d endured quietly, refusing his offers to squash it. Oh, he’d made a few discreet threats, but nothing that would violate her trust in him. He would have done more, if she’d allowed it. Even then, she’d had her pride, and a slowly hardening resolve to become a predator. He’d watched it evolve, hoped she didn’t become a monster. A girl like her in Mogren hands was a tool waiting to happen. She would be insecure, have something to prove, want to earn her place. Lavinia would exploit all of that. He just hoped Alexa protected the girl. Geza would’ve hated for his father to have executed her in another few decades for fulfilling the cold promise of her eyes.
And now, how many decades later, had his initial suspicions born fruit? Where was Moghrenna? Could he save her before she did something irrevocable?
6
She should have been reprimanded for the extended lunch break, but Bea was distracted, and the Prince was in his office, the rumbling snarl of multiple male voices muffled through the wall. People went in and out. She recognized the organized chaos of the aftermath of a security breach. He hadn’t done much when she’d left him the necklace, which he’d graciously returned, so the current response soothed her soul. She liked seeing them ruffled.
Rhina sat at her desk, working with half a mind on small tasks while she tried to look as frightened and fascinated as the other humans on staff. After a while, Bea entered the office, ignoring everyone as she strode straight into the conference with Prince Geza, speaking in a low, rapid tone into her comm unit. Of course, she was Prince Malin’s assistant even though she was working on the ball as a side project.
Malin exited sometime later, followed by the human female who passed in the middle of the room, looking around.
“Alright, ladies, there’s been an incident. It’s a technical issue, you don’t need to worry, but it will make it easier for us to resolve if everyone goes home early. You’ll still be paid for a full shift.”
Her brisk tone and closed expression didn’t allow for questions, or delay. Despite being human, and kind of short, her rank among the gargoyles was such that none of the humans argued with her, as Rhina had so often observed in other environments. She stood obediently, grabbing her purse. The Master of the Guard poked his head out of the office.
“Bea, we need to see Rhina Janson.”
Rhina stilled, glancing between them. Bea’s head snapped towards her, then she shrugged and pointed to the office.
Damn. Several scenarios ran through her head, why would they would want to see her? If she oversaw security, the first thing she would have done as a matter of course was run all the employee logins and verify everyone's whereabouts if there was an anomaly in the logs. She’d anticipated this.
Rhina followed on Bea’s heels, stopping just inside the door. Sir Nikolau glanced at her, expression slashing, but Geza didn’t even look her way, shoulders hunched as he spoke quietly with another male. It confirmed that whatever it was, it had to be routine, otherwise she would have the Prince's full attention.
How was she going to take down Sir Nikolau? She would have to, after she killed the Princes. She refused to allow the thoughts of the deaths of the Princesses in her head as well. If she lingered on it, her resolve might falter. Surah was half-blooded like her, and as brisk and pragmatic in her treatment of those who were her inferiors in rank and power as if those barriers didn’t even exist. The lit
tle garling didn’t deserve to die, no matter her tainted, Ioveanu blood.
“You logged out at 18:21,” Sir Nikolau snapped. “That isn’t your authorized break time. You didn’t return until two hours later.”
Yes, she’d have to plan carefully. Resign herself to her own death if she was to succeed. She couldn’t think of any scenario in which she’d be able to get close enough to all of them, and survive the assassinations afterwards. Those kinds of tales were only in videos and RPG.
She blinked rapidly, expression alarmed. “I . . . I apologize, sir,” she stuttered. “My apartment complex alerted me there was a breach to my unit. I had to go reset the codes manually, and I got caught in traffic . . . .” she trailed off, looking sheepish. “I realized how late I was anyway, so I stopped for a snack. I figured I’d just work late today.”
“I’ll need your apartment manager to verify.”
Her forehead creased. “How? I can have him comm you, I guess.”
“There will be a log of the malfunction. Have him message it.”
“Yes, sir.” She turned on her heel to leave, dismissed, when Malin spoke.
“Wait, Ms. Janson. Bea, you sent everyone home? You can’t work without staff. Keep this one here to handle the tasks that don’t require your personal attention—once her logs are corroborated.”
Rhina turned back around, glancing at Bea who nodded at her, though it wasn’t as if she outranked her own employer. A human woman would have looked to her direct, female supervisor for reassurance.
Returning to her desk, she accessed the files she’d created to mimic a security breach and tweaked the data. She’d wait a half hour and then route it to Sir Nikolau’s extension. Too fast a response, and it would look suspicious.
Bea walked over to Rhina’s desk. “Welcome to my world,” she said quietly. “Where your job description changes every time there's a crisis. Are you good with handling my events workload?”
Rhina nodded. “Of course! It will be a challenge, and maybe when this is over, if there’s a permanent position . . .”
