After the War: Military Dystopian Thriller (Friends of my Enemy Book 2)

by Autumn M. Birt

  “Actually, I’ll take that drink,” Arinna said, pulling off her gloves. “May I?” she asked, nodding toward the settee.

  He waved his assent while filling a second glass. She sat on the edge of the seat, too aware of her clothing and his fine furniture to be as relaxed as she wanted. But as Derrick handed her a glass, his refilled as well, and sat across from her, it felt more like a conversation rather than something less pleasant.

  “What else have you heard?” she asked, sipping the Scotch and resisting an urge to lean into the soft cushion behind her.

  “Not much. Your lieutenants found it, and it was large enough or well-armed enough that a larger assault was needed. It depends on the source which it was.”

  “Nothing else?” she asked, blinking away teary relief.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “It was a trap actually,” she told him.

  He stared at her. “You look very relieved to have just said the Guard walked into a trap.”

  She smiled even though she didn’t mean to. “We knew it was a trap and used that against them. But you see, you hadn’t heard it was a trap. It sounds like your information is through the Guard and someone or several someones that are lower level. We’ll have to tighten security and discipline, but ...”

  “We’re not saturated with FLF spies?” he asked with a wry smile.

  “Yes. Something like that,” she replied.

  “But I feel rather disappointed,” Derrick admitted. “My informants are rather insignificant.”

  Arinna laughed. “Well keep looking. Maybe you’ll uncover something more impressive.”

  “Oh thanks,” he drawled.

  “Is everything okay?” Byran asked from the doorway, slamming to a halt at the sight of Arinna. She sprang upright from her relaxed pose, wondering when she’d leaned back and why Derrick hadn’t warned her about damaging his upholstery.

  “Yes,” Derrick replied, not rising or appearing concerned. “Would you care to stay for a bit since this has become a more social visit than I think you were expecting?” he asked, nodding toward her sword.

  “Huh, I would love to, but I fear I should not. I need to talk to Captain Vries. It seems he has some work to do. Thank you for the offer.” She said the last with warmth.

  “Then come tomorrow,” Derrick said, rising with her. “Tea and lunch in the garden. You can meet Byran’s children,” he added with a glance toward Byran.

  “Please do. Cerilla is very disappointed that Isabella met you and she did not,” Byran said.

  “Very well. Thank you again, especially for letting me interrupt your evening,” she said, handing Derrick her empty glass. “Until tomorrow.”

  She blamed the alcohol and exhaustion from the fighting, of which she watched more than helped, for repeating the image of the warm amusement on Derrick’s face when he’d taken her glass. Jared would have a fit of laughter if he learned of it.

  Arinna kept the ride to Rhiol brisk. Thomas met her in the courtyard, taking Raven with a salute. She’d never gotten the man to stop acting like he was in the Guard even if they were officially very much no longer in the Guard. Of course, the interior of Rhiol made the reality all too apparent.

  Beyond the kitchen that was used more like a military mess than the heart of a grand estate and the never utilized formal rooms on the first floor, Arinna ducked into the secret heart of her rented manor. When she’d chosen Rhiol, it had been for a number of reasons, beyond a reluctant agreement with MOTHER that to make the appearance of the war truly over having a place to call home would go a long way. Arinna and Jared had appreciated the structure, built as it was like a scale model medieval fortress. But what had appealed to her most was the warren of rooms in the upper floors that could house a small army if needed, and the massive basement that could contain all the requirements of managing a war away from Command.

  Through a tiny wine cellar, the basement opened into a training and exercise room to the left of which was a small nook holding the most computer equipment in Europe outside of the Guard base in Prague. Unless you counted any dactyls on a mission.

  The computers were kept in a constant state of readiness so that Arinna only had to touch a key for them to initiate a link to Command. To Arinna’s surprise, it wasn’t Kehm Racée, her Chief Communications Officer, who answered, but Jared.

  “I was just about to call you,” he said, looking equally surprised.

  “Something is wrong?” she asked.

  “No. I have information. What about you? You look rather cross,” he said, studying her face.

  “I was at Kesmere,” she said.

  “Really? I’m impressed. I don’t think even I can irritate you that fast.”

  “No, he—” She settled into a glare, trying to remain more annoyed than amused as Jared broke up laughing. “Never mind. I can’t win with you,” she said, smiling. “We have some leaks in the Guard. Lower ranks talking about missions they have scant knowledge of, thank goodness, but it needs to be stopped. Now.”

  Jared wasn’t laughing anymore. He swore. “Let me guess, they have enough information that would cause problems if someone like Secretary Gerschtein got wind of it?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Shit. Well then nix what I was going to tell you,” Jared said.

  “What? Why?” Arinna asked startled. “Unless you are in the common room, I would hardly think that there is an issue with leaks here.”

  “Until I run a complete analysis and scan, I’d rather fall on the safe side.”

  “You mean the seriously over-zealous side?” she asked. Jared gave her a cat’s grin. She sighed. “Fine, I’ll come to base.” She’d have to send her regrets to Derrick.

  “I wouldn’t want you to have to change any plans you might have,” Jared said, grinning when her attention snapped back to his with annoyed force. “I’ll come to you.”

  “When? I may not be here,” she said, crossing her arms.

  Jared shrugged. “Leave me a note. I have to start things here and make a stop on the way. If it is important enough, I’ll track you down.”

  “Lovely,” she said, signing off. Tomorrow suddenly felt too full.

  Chapter 22

  TATIANA GREKOV

  THE PRICE OF INFORMATION

  “He made me look like a fool in front of Eloise. He didn’t look at me even once,” Corianne moaned. She clutched her pillow to her chest, muffling a sob into its feathers.

  Tatiana laced her fingers through her cousin’s. “Eloise was surprised too. She said that the Lady Grey claiming all of the Earl of Kesmere’s attention at the ball was the last thing she expected, especially with the Baron and Baroness Vasquez there as well.”

  Actually, Eloise had said something much less tactful and had expected a madcap scene of the baron’s affair with the Lady Grey being broadcast by his wife. Arguments, yelling, or icy silence had all been discussed as potentials. Instead, the Lady Grey and the baroness had appeared friendly. And Derrick’s attention had been claimed all night by his date until their abrupt departure. What had been meant to be Corianne’s victory in claiming the Earl of Kesmere’s attention at long last had been a horrible failure. Even Eloise had agreed to that.

  Corianne gripped Tatiana’s hand, peering at her over the ruffled edge of the pillow. “Everyone knows that the Lady Grey and the baron are having an affair. Half the invitations sent to her are in the hopes of uncovering more about what she is doing. The other half won’t invite her because of disappointment in her actions after having been a war hero. How could she and baron be so polite and act as if nothing had happened? And then when the earl and the Lady Grey left early ... together. It’s over.” Corianne fell back onto her bed. “I shall never marry. I will never leave this farm and will live here alone to die of hunger or cold.”

  The words were dramatic, but real tears, bitter and desperate tears, leaked from the corner of Corianne’s eyes.

  “Hush, no,” Tatiana said, smoothing down her cousin’s golden
hair. “Things are not ended. Not yet. We just have to try something else.”

  “Hah. Like what? He is avoiding me. I know it.”

  Tatiana sat beside Corianne, holding her hand and thinking. “Do you really think the Earl of Kesmere and the Lady Grey are seeing one another?” she asked.

  “It looked that way. That last dance ... they only had eyes for each other.”

  “What about the earl’s fiancée?” Tatiana pressed. “Do you think he would cheat on her?”

  Corianne shrugged. “The baron cheats on his wife. Everyone knows the earl does not really love Danielle le Marc. She was forced on him by his father.”

  “But do you think the earl’s fiancée would care?” Tatiana asked.

  Corianne sat upright. “We need to tell her. She wouldn’t want to be embarrassed like that. But no, then she’ll come. I don’t want her here!”

  “But if she comes to discover if the rumor were true and finds it is and then she breaksthings off with him—”

  Tatiana couldn’t finish as Corianne hugged her tightly and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you. You are the best friend I could ever hope for!” Her blue eyes shone; lashes stuck together from the recent tears. “But how will we send her a letter? I don’t know her address.”

  “Her father is an advisor to parliament. We could write him.”

  “And how do we find his address?” Corianne asked.

  “I have a newspaper. I think it lists the address of parliament.” Tatiana was on her feet and out the door before Corianne replied. She raced to her room, grabbing the well-read paper she’d bought when out with Pyotr. Walking back to Corianne’s room, she asked, “What did you say, Corianne?”

  “Why do you have a newspaper?”

  Tatiana shrugged. “I wanted to know what was happening. It seemed the best way. Look, here it is. The address of parliamentary headquarters in Prague.”

  “Prague,” Corianne breathed, the word holding so many dreams. “But see, it mentions Derrick, the earl’s,” Corianne corrected with a blush, “father, David Eldridge as the Secretary of Defense. Maybe we should write him? Would it not be too unseemingly to write the earl’s fiancée’s father when the earl’s father could most likely solve the problem with the least amount of fuss?”

  “You’re right! It is better to be discrete about this so as not to sully your connection to the earl when everything is made known.”

  Corianne blushed. “You must draft the letter,” Corianne begged, taking Tatiana’s hand. “You are so much better at writing than I am.”

  They started that afternoon. Draft after draft, they tried again and again to find the wording to warn Secretary Eldridge that his son was acting inappropriately with another woman, the leader of the armed forces nonetheless. But by nightfall, they still hadn’t found quite the language that was inoffensive, not sounding like malicious gossip, but implied a need for urgency.

  “We’ll try again in the morning,” Tatiana said, putting down her pen.

  Corianne yawned and then kissed her on her brow. “Thank you. I’m so glad you are here. You are like a sister, but better. Really.”

  Tatiana choked up as she cleaned up their discarded paper. This would work. She knew it. Pyotr was right. Both she and Corianne needed to marry well. It was their best hope. Tatiana had done her best since the day of the planting to pay attention to all the little details in manners and look that she had ignored or regulated to Corianne’s realm. She dressed smartly every day now, made certain she used the correct spoon for her tea and spoke as well as she could. She read books to make up for her poor education. And when it had come to the ball hosted by Eloise’s father, she’d made certain the dress she wore was stylish.

  Despite Corianne’s disappointment with the earl, Tatiana had danced often that night. She’d witnessed heads turn as she walked by. What difference lay between her and her younger cousin, Tatiana was uncertain. Or at least her guess made her stomach flip, and she refused to acknowledge it. Corianne was all spun gold, blue eyes, and rosebuds. Tatiana was darker, taller, and her figure did not have Corianne’s softness. Tatiana thought Corianne the perfect beauty, but men’s eyes had followed her and not Corianne. For the first time, she’d not been hidden behind her cousin, and the feeling had been powerful.

  Pyotr smiled at her over dinner, happy in his lot managing the farm. Tatiana would make sure he had more when she married. Then she blushed, realizing what she’d just thought. First she had to make certain Corianne won the Earl of Kesmere, and then she could worry about herself. The earl would have connections, better than those offered at a country ball where she guessed that what the men wanted might have been less than what Tatiana was looking for. She’d have to guard her reputation as much as she guarded Corianne’s.

  “A letter came for you, child,” Aunt Linda said as the meal finished. Corianne perked up, gaze flashing to Tatiana. “Not you, darling, your cousin.”

  Corianne wilted while Tatiana blushed. Pyotr gave her a look emphasized by arched brows. “I’ll read it tonight, thank you, Aunt Linda,” Tatiana said.

  But when she picked up the letter and hurried upstairs, Corianne giggling on her heels, Tatiana found it wasn’t from any of the gentlemen who’d danced with her at the ball.

  “It’s from Phillip,” Tatiana said with disappointment as she looked at the name.

  “Who’s Phillip?” Corianne asked, flopping on Tatiana’s bed.

  “A former Guard soldier. I met him when I helped plant the fields. He’s a farmer,” Tatiana confessed to her cousin.

  “Oh well,” Corianne said with sympathy. “It’s only been a day since the ball. It would be indiscreet to receive a letter from an introduction so soon,” she added before giving Tatiana’s arm a squeeze and heading to her room.

  Tatiana opened the letter anyway. By the time she’d finished half of it, she was smiling. She had to cover her mouth when she laughed near the end. The memory of the afternoon she’d met Phillip came back to her so strongly Tatiana could smell the turned earth warming in the sun and feel the welcome shade of the tree under which she’d sat. She shouldn’t answer back. She knew it. But all the writing materials were out from the afternoon’s fruitless task. Tatiana bit her lip and scurried down the hall.

  The next morning, the words to write to Secretary Eldridge finally arranged themselves on a page of their finest paper. It was a perfect warning, replete with assurances of discretion along with sentiment for a quick resolution. Corianne smiled as she read it, signing her name to the bottom with a lovely flourish. Tatiana addressed it and ran it to the post, slipping a second letter into the box without letting anyone see, especially Pyotr.

  The secrecy of it fluttered Tatiana’s heart, but she nearly forgot about it until two days later when a tap sounded on her window. Another sharp rap followed the first. It was dark, and Tatiana was reading before readying herself for bed. The house was silent, her brother and aunt tired from days tending the growing plants. Corianne was abed dreaming of her future. Only Tatiana was awake, her light a faint brightness in the house.

  Tatiana went to the window of her upstairs bedroom as a stone hit the pane for a third time. “Careful, you’ll break it!” she hissed down to the figure barely visible in the darkness. He stepped into the light. Disappointment and pleasure mingled at the sight of Phillip. “What are you doing here?” she asked without thinking.

  “I wanted to see you. It’s a beautiful night. Come out and sit with me. Please?” he asked.

  She should say no. She really should. “Okay. But if you don’t behave yourself, I’ll yell,” she warned.

  “I just want to talk, I promise.”

  Tatiana smiled as she pulled closed her window. She swept a brush through her hair but refused to put on a nice coat. Instead, she grabbed her aunt’s most tattered shawl. Sneaking out with a young man was not wise, and there was no way she was going to lead Phillip on with fine things that weren’t really hers.

  He met her at the front gate sep
arating the tiny yard from the drive. They stood on either side of the fence, Phillip appearing uncertain what to do now that Tatiana faced him.

  “I forgot how beautiful you are,” he said just before she asked him again what he wanted. Tatiana blushed, heart flipping. “Please, walk with me down the road? We’ll stay in shouting distance of the house,” he added with a grin.

  “Not far,” Tatiana said as Phillip held the gate for her. “It isn’t proper. Aunt Linda and Pyotr would be cross to find me out speaking to you.”

  “I know. Your letter said your aunt and brother didn’t approve,” Phillip said.

  “Then why did you come sneaking about at night?”

  “You sent me a note anyway,” Phillip replied. Tatiana groaned inwardly at her mistake. “Tell me you want me to leave, and I will. Just explain why you can’t see me first. They don’t like that I was a soldier?”

  “Hah, no. Pyotr would have fought if he’d been old enough. No, they don’t like you are a farmer.” She left out the word poor.

  “I’m not a farmer,” Phillip replied. “I’m a blacksmith.” Tatiana stared at him. Humor quirked Phillip’s lips, but there was hurt in his gaze as he added, “What? Didn’t think I could be a smithy with my injury?”

  “No. I’ve never met a blacksmith before. I thought they were all huge, brawny men that could toss an ox around.” Phillip snorted he laughed so hard. “They’ll hear you,” Tatiana admonished, putting a hand against his mouth as she looked toward the house. When she glanced back at Phillip, his dark eyes were dancing beneath her fingers. She pulled her hand back, self-conscious.

  “How does it work, though, with your injury?” she asked since he had brought it up.

  Phillip shrugged. “I have strength in my arm. I just can’t bend it. I usually hold the tongs in my right hand and hammer with my left. It took some getting used to since I was right-handed ... before. But it isn’t so bad now. You’d be surprised.”

  “I already am,” Tatiana admitted. “What do you make?”