by Robyn Bachar
“I’m powering down the security bots they activated, so you’ll only have to deal with human security,” Malcolm said. “I’m almost finished downloading, then I’ll leave them my favorite parting gifts. I need more time.”
“You’ll get it, a’mhain,” Andee assured him. “Incoming!”
Four security guards entered from Osa’s position, taking the marine out with an unfortunate direct laser bolt to the head. A helmet would have saved him had he been in full armor, but this mission didn’t allow for it.
Cursing, Andee shoved Galen behind cover next to Malcolm and then knelt beside them. She ordered Sharp to lay down covering fire. When the marine shouted for her to go Andee leapt into action and used Sharp’s distraction to her advantage. Andee dropped two guards before they could react and Sharp’s pistol took out a third—good thing the man was a decent shot, because she didn’t want to fall to friendly fire. But the fourth guard was a tougher foe, his energy empty of fear or hesitation. He fired at Galen and Malcolm’s hiding place, and Andee threw herself in harm’s way. The bolt burned a ragged line across her stomach—ugly but not deep—and she swallowed the scream of pain that bubbled up and channeled her adrenaline into a kick to his knee. The guard stumbled as he raised his rifle for a second shot, but before he could fire Galen tackled him to the floor.
Andee lurched forward and cut the guard’s throat. She sheathed her blades then took Galen’s arm and pulled him away, checking him for injuries.
“A’gra, you’re wounded,” he blurted. She flinched and snarled in pain when he touched the burn. Andee staggered, nearly overwhelmed with the force of Galen’s concern for her, and then she caught his hands and steeled her shields.
“It’s all right. Just a graze,” she assured him through gritted teeth.
“Why did you do that? You could have been killed!”
“It’s a privilege to die for my house,” she quoted grimly. Andee stepped back as Malcolm approached them, wide eyed but uninjured. “Are you ready to go?” she asked him.
“Yes.”
“Let’s move out.” Andee motioned Sharp forward as she helped herself to one of the fallen guard’s rifles. “Loren, we’re coming to you.”
“Acknowledged. Rendezvous in the north corridor,” Lieutenant Loren said. “Loren to Hawke. We’re going to need a pickup.”
“Thought that might happen,” the captain replied over the comm. Because of Captain Hawke’s easily recognizable scars, she had remained on the ship during the mission. “We’ll meet you at the landing pad on level 125.”
“Copy that,” Soth added. Apparently the sword was still alive. Tough bastard.
“I’ll take point,” she told Sharp.
The marine grinned. “Yes ma’am. Nice job, by the way.”
“Yes,” Malcolm said, “you’re very good at stabbing things.” He smiled, his adoration a warm glow upon her skin. Andee laughed, but grimaced at the pain radiating from her wound.
“Let’s hope that’s the last thing I have to stab for a while.”
Chapter Eleven
Under normal circumstances a Cy’ren city in lockdown was cut off from the surface, especially where communications were concerned. The silence was meant to keep enemy transmissions from affecting the city’s security, but with the threat of breach by the enemy drills imminent, the Morningstar enclave couldn’t risk remaining out of contact with their allies, and needed to maintain monitoring transmissions from Lord Bildanen. So when the enemies’ mining drills prematurely broke through into the Dawnsea city, all of Cyprena was witness to Lord Bildanen’s depravity.
Bryn shook her head as she watched the spread of the virus through the Dawnsea enclave, unable to tear her attention from the vid screen as the horror unfolded via live transmissions. Jace paced behind her, pausing every so often to growl in frustration or gasp in horror. They had banished Sabine from the room when it was clear that the Lazarus virus had been released. Sabine was already weary from the strain of sensing the tensions in the Morningstar city, and Bryn and Jace didn’t want to add to that.
Jace halted, dragging his hands through his hair. “How can he attack civilians? This is murder!”
“No. It’s genocide,” Bryn corrected grimly. “He’s insane. He means to kill anyone who opposes him, and now the entire planet knows it. We need to be prepared for what happens next.”
“The Talon II will succeed. I know they’ll find the cure in time,” Jace said.
Bryn took a slow breath and forced herself to look away from the screen. “We trust that, and the Sunsingers may trust it as well, but I’m not sure about the other houses. We need to be prepared for them to swear allegiance to Bildanen.”
“To that son of a bitch? Never.” Jace glared, his pale blue eyes filled with icy fury. Bryn folded her hands behind her back and struggled to remain calm. Someone had to keep a level head, and Jace was still mourning his father and worrying over his sister’s safety.
“They will be too terrified not to. People will riot in the streets after seeing this.” Bryn nodded toward the vid feed. “We need a new plan of action.”
“I’m open to suggestions.” Jace likely expected that she didn’t have specifics in mind, but Bryn was never without a plan.
She stepped to the conference room’s meeting table and brought up a map of Cyprena. She tapped the location of the Nightfall city and zoomed in. “I say we bring the fight to Bildanen.”
Jace shook his head. “We don’t have the numbers for a direct assault.”
“I’m not talking about a direct assault. I’m thinking about a small, covert infiltration team.” Bryn zoomed in again and motioned to an area of the map that simply read “Winter City” next to a small black dot. Even the cartographers ignored the lesser houses of Cyprena. Bildanen was sure to share that arrogance. “There are smuggler tunnels that connect Winter City to the Nightfall enclave. If we can get to Winter City, they can help us get to Bildanen.”
“Would they help us? Surely they have allied with him.”
“I doubt he even bothered asking for their support. He wouldn’t dirty his high-council hands by talking with a lesser house, much less three of them. Bildanen didn’t call for the surrender of the lesser houses, just the ruling ones. If you offer them places on the high council, the Winters will help you.”
Jace scratched his chin thoughtfully. “There will be open seats after we remove Bildanen and his accomplices.”
Remove. Bryn snorted. It was a polite term for the lord’s fate. Jace had been composing epic revenge scenarios over the past few days. While Bryn acknowledged that they were a normal coping mechanism for dealing with his father’s loss, she was impressed and surprised by her mate’s bloody creativity.
“Bildanen won’t be expecting us to fight,” Bryn said. “He’ll be waiting for our surrender.”
“Like hell. I won’t bend knee to that traitor.”
“I know.” Bryn leaned against the table, her expression softening as she took Jace’s hand and held it. “We’ll both need to go. You’ll need my knowledge of Winter City, and they’ll want your word in person as the Morningstar lord.”
Jace nodded, and then stepped close and embraced her. “I never wanted this,” he murmured.
“I know. I love you. We’ll make it work.” She kissed him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Sabine and Tali are going to pitch a fit over us leaving and putting ourselves in the line of fire.”
“I know. This may be our best option to defend them.”
Bryn leaned back and patted his shoulder amiably. “Good. You can tell them, then, your lordship.”
∆∆∆
The world flowed like sluggish water around Galen as he made his way from the medical bay to his quarters. He operated on a three-second delay, not reacting to the people around him until he realized that they were staring in concern. Galen sat on the edge of the bed and stared numbly at the wall until Malcolm’s face swam into view.
“Galen?” His voice was sof
t, hesitant, as though he worried that if he spoke too loudly Galen might shatter.
“Yes? Are we needed on the bridge?” Galen asked.
“No. Andee’s on the bridge. She’ll call us if we’re needed,” Malcolm reminded gently.
“Of course.” He nodded, because he knew that. Andee had told him that after her laser burn had been healed. Galen must have been distracted while the doctor saw to his wounds and set his marks to rights. He scratched his throat, the skin itching where his false ownerships marks had been removed and his rightful heritage marks had been restored. Malcolm took his hand and held it, still kneeling before Galen.
“Dr. Morgan restored my mate marks,” Galen said. “Perhaps I should have asked her not to. Does Andee have hers?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Maybe she forgot as well… She was hurt. She wasn’t even wearing armor. She could have been killed.”
It’s a privilege to die for my house. Andee had been willing to die to protect Galen, even after he’d rejected her. She had fought and killed during the mission like a loyal soldier. He had expected a liathlinn to be a monster that sprouted fangs and claws and reveled in the death around it, like in the legends. But Andee had simply been Andee.
“It’s okay. We’re all safe now,” Malcolm said.
“Yes, of course.” He knew that as well. They had the location of the cure, and the ship was headed to meet with the Alliance to plan their attack. Perfectly safe. Nothing to be concerned about.
Malcolm squeezed Galen’s hand. “I’m sorry I slapped you on Argent. I hated playing that role.”
Galen searched for a suitable reply, something reassuring about how Malcolm hadn’t really hurt him because it had all been for show. How all that mattered was the success of the mission, and their sacrifices were for the better good. They would save countless lives. He had shed blood for his people. Surely that was what a lord should do for his house—a real lord, the sort of lord that no one had thought Galen was capable of being, least of all himself.
But instead of voicing any of those thoughts, his throat tightened and his eyes burned. Galen inhaled a shaky breath, and then the last shred of his composure snapped as he released it on a sob. A shiver started at his core and intensified until his entire body shook. Malcolm sat beside him and drew Galen into his arms, holding him tight in silent support as Galen sobbed.
“I’m sorry,” Galen blurted. “I thought I could handle being a slave, but it was nothing like how I thought it would be. I can’t imagine living every day like that. I don’t know how you survived it.”
Malcolm rubbed Galen’s back as through comforting a child who had awoken from a nightmare. “One day at a time. But you’re a lord again now. You’ll be okay.”
“No, I won’t. I’m a disappointment to my house, never meant to be the lord. I only survived because I was sickly. Weak. I should have died with my family.”
“Stop that,” Malcolm scolded. “How many other lords do you think would be here with us on this crazy mission? They’re probably all hiding under their beds.”
Galen chuckled, though it was a watery, weak sound. “I want you to know that you didn’t hurt me on Argent. You taught me.”
“That’s what the Archivist would call it—education. He was teaching us our places. But I know what you mean. No one would support slavery in the Syndicate if they knew what it was really like.”
“I’m sorry about not consulting you when I contacted the Archivist and negotiated for your access to the Collective. It was wrong of me.”
“You’ve already apologized for that, and I’ve already forgiven you.”
“But I didn’t know, then, what it was like. I only spent a few hours as a slave. You spent a lifetime. It was always a concept to me. I thought myself gravely injured because slavers killed my family. But death is quick and final. It must be so much worse to live every day without control, at the whim of a sadist like Toulouse.”
“Do you need to talk about Toulouse?” Malcolm asked gently.
Galen jerked as phantom pain bloomed across his back, the memory of the whip flaying his skin open, but then Andee had saved him. You will die in slow agony for what you’ve done to my mate. Her mate. Did she still want him, even after he had turned on her? Was that why she’d kept her mate marks? She’d thrown herself into the line of fire to keep him safe. Or was it to keep Malcolm safe?
“How did you endure the Archivist’s abuse?” Galen asked.
“The Archivist enjoys causing pain, but not like Toulouse did. I guess you could say that Toulouse was a brute with a whip, but the Archivist was an artist. He could stripe me from head to foot without drawing blood. I had welts and bruises, but the Archivist never broke the skin. He didn’t want to ruin his artwork by leaving scars.” Malcolm smiled grimly. “But that sort of pain I could deal with. There were so many other things that he did. Awful things.”
“I won’t let him take you. I swear it. When this is over—” Galen stumbled over the words and cleared his throat. His heart raced with panic at the thought of Malcolm leaving. “Are you leaving with Andee? You bit her, after…”
“After you freaked out on her, broke her heart and abandoned her?” Malcolm countered. “Yes, I bit her. She needed to know that I don’t care that she’s different.”
“Different? She’s a liathlinn.”
“Andee’s the same person she’s always been, and she’s a good person. You tore into her because of some Cy’ren bedtime story used to scare children.”
Gods. Galen had seen the pain in Andee’s eyes, but hearing confirmation that he had hurt her made it terribly real. “Do you love Andee?” he asked.
“Yes. I love you, too, but I can’t be with you if you don’t accept me. Or us, or Andee. If she goes, I go. She’s not afraid of a future with me.”
“I’ve made a mess of everything. I don’t want to lose you. Can you forgive me?”
“You need to ask for Andee’s forgiveness. I don’t think you completely understand what you did to her. She’s an empath. Imagine how awful she felt when you lashed out. She loves you. She left her family for you, and you pretty much told her that she was a monster who could never go home again because she’d be hunted down like a dog.”
Galen’s eyes squeezed shut as he hung his head in shame. “You’re right. Do you think she can forgive me?”
“Yes, because she loves you. But you’re going to have to do some serious apologizing. Grovel. Get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness.”
“I can do that.”
“Good.” He paused as he dragged a hand through his hair. “I can forgive you, but only if you promise to talk things out from now on. Shouting doesn’t solve anything. It’s the sort of behavior I expect from my master. Former master.”
“Agreed. You have my word… Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” Galen asked, the words tumbling forth in a rush. “I don’t feel very deserving of it at the moment. And it won’t be easy. The last time I showed interest in another male my house had him and his entire family sent away to another city to avoid any scandal.”
“Love isn’t supposed to be easy. Lust is easy. Love takes effort. Besides, if I hear anyone saying bad things about us, I’ll scramble their financial accounts so much that they won’t even be able to buy a loaf of bread. After Andee beats them up.”
“I have such ferocious mates.” Galen kissed him tentatively, almost afraid that Malcolm would pull away. Instead Malcolm smiled and tucked a stray lock of Galen’s hair back into place.
“We should get some rest. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
They curled up together, Galen’s head resting on Malcolm’s chest, soothed by the steady beat of the other man’s heart, and he drifted into an exhausted sleep.
∆∆∆
Andee wasn’t certain she was welcome in Galen’s bed, or even in his quarters for that matter, but she also wasn’t certain where else to go after she left the bridge. Her clothes and belongings were still in
Galen’s quarters. Exhausted, she gulped a cup of coffee—Malcolm was right, the drink was a lifesaver—and sat at the desk’s data terminal while Galen and Malcolm slept. Though she hoped for an update on Cyprena, the planet was still silent and surrounded by the Syndicate blockade. She poked at ship reports that she was too distracted to understand until Malcolm stirred and joined her.
“How is he?” she asked as he perched atop the desk next to the data screen.
“He’ll be okay. How are you?”
“I’ve been wounded in battle before. I’m worried about him, and you. I know how much it bothered you to be there.” Andee took his hand and held it.
“That must be hard, to hurt when somebody else is hurting.”
“It’s worse when it’s someone I care about.”
“Galen wants to apologize to you. I apologized to Galen, and I want to apologize to you, too.” Malcolm blushed and ducked his head. “I’m sorry for how I treated you on Argent, when I was pretending to be a slaver.”
“I know you are, a’mhain. Though I’ll admit that I enjoyed sitting on your lap. We’ll have to do that again under more pleasant circumstances.” Andee grinned, and his blush deepened.
“Really?”
“Really.” She rose and hugged him. Malcolm relaxed in her embrace, but then his energy saddened.
“I’m afraid of losing you and Galen like I lost Kai and Alexi,” he murmured against her hair. “I’ve lost everyone I cared about.”
“I can’t guarantee you won’t lose us, because this mission isn’t over yet. But I don’t want to lose you either.” Andee caressed his cheek. “What were they like?”
“You don’t want to hear about that.”
“Yes we do,” Galen said from the bed, his voice muffled by a pillow. “Tell your story over here.”
He patted the empty mattress beside him, and Andee followed Malcolm to the bed. She studied Galen; his energy was guarded, but not hostile. She shuddered at the memory of his horror and disgust, his rejection the embodiment of her nightmares about those she loved turning on her. Malcolm hugged her as Galen sat up and met her gaze.
