Lord Regret's Price: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 3

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  “I read Prince Gong’s full report,” he retorted, jerking his arm away, but so weakly that Ci’an still gripped the silk. “She’s been of great aid to us and all we’ve done is pay her back with attempted assassinations and betrayal. Without her—”

  “Nonsense,” Cixi interrupted, hopefully to silence her son before he revealed too much about the private security work Charlotte had managed to do for them. “You’ve heard the Queen. She has nothing to fear. Nothing at all. Isn’t that right, Your Majesty?”

  Majel’s hard smile slowly faded to the heavy-eyed glare that usually preceded someone’s head being separated from their body. But she remained silent, waiting for Charlotte’s answer.

  In a soft voice, she said, “Her Majesty never promised there was nothing to fear. Far from it.”

  “Bring her to me,” Queen Majel ordered. The Ravens began closing faster. Overhead, the ship engine’s roared, causing wind to rush and swirl the ladies’ skirts so that it was difficult to stand, even shielded by the pavilion. Cixi clutched at Ci’an, both of them screaming. The dome was down.

  A platform descended just off the pavilion, connected to the ship by heavy chains. If they succeeded in dragging her onto that ship, she’d never see Sig and Gil again.

  The men who’d been locked outside of the dome broke through the Ravens and ran toward the pavilion. Prince Gong headed straight for his nephew, a knife in one hand and a sword in the other. Gil limped, clutching his ribs, his lip bleeding and his left eye almost swollen shut. But he’d made good use of the jewelry she’d given him. Both sets of brass knuckles were stained with blood.

  Sig, where are you?

  She could feel him close, but the nanobots were so chaotic she couldn’t discern a direction.

  “Hurry, Wyre. Get on the ship before we lose you entirely.”

  Charlotte faced the holograph. “You never had me, Your Majesty.”

  “Don’t be a fool. Lord Regret is still out there and he’s Queen’s Scorpion. He’s mine to command. If you don’t come willingly…”

  Charlotte let out a derisive laugh. “An empty threat, Your Majesty. Sig would never hurt me.”

  “Henry Sigmund Tudor will kill you this very moment if I order it.” The words rang louder, cutting through the shouts and the ship’s engines to ensure everyone—especially Sig—heard the Queen’s words. “I know his price. Only I can give it to him.”

  Hearing his true name out loud was strange, but it didn’t horrify or shock her as the Queen had hoped. Raising her voice to match Majel’s, Charlotte called out, “The Duchess of Wyre loves His Royal Highness the Prince of Tudor and he loves me. He will never hurt me, let alone kill me.”

  “You can’t control him. You certainly can’t trust him. Never fully.”

  “Yes I can, and I do.”

  Finally, she saw him, plunging over and through the Ravens just paces away, floating with flying leaps as the ninjas had done. He vaulted over the railing, landing softly and lightly on his feet like a cat, and with another soaring leap he was beside her, dragging her tightly to him as though he could pull her inside his body and shield her with his own bone and sinew.

  Another scream, lower and somehow more terrible than the others before, made her turn. Ci’an fell to her knees, sobbing, and Cixi covered her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears, but she made no sound. They both stared at their son, who gripped an ornate knife in his hand. Blood poured from his slashed wrist and he staggered over to the egg. His knees weakened and he started to fall, but Prince Gong caught him, slowly lowering him to lie against the pedestal.

  “Zijin shall have its dragon,” the Tongzhi Emperor whispered, fighting to draw breath. “The throne is yours, Uncle.”

  “Oh, Zaichun,” Prince Gong whispered, his voice trembling with anguish. “I cannot do what you ask. Please, don’t do this to me. All of Zijin needs you!”

  The young Emperor’s eyes fluttered. He clutched at the egg. “Please, little dragon. Let me see you before I die.”

  As Charlotte lifted the scanner, the shell began to shimmer, pure golden light streaming through cracks crisscrossing the surface. It burned brighter, until it was painful to focus on the blazing egg, so she almost missed the pop and burst of liquid fire as the dragon hatched.

  The small creature hung in the air, as transparent as Majel’s holographic image. The ghostly, winged shape hovered over the shattered shell, shining as brightly as the sun, illuminating the Emperor’s face. Then it launched over his shoulder at Prince Gong.

  He recoiled, stumbling backward to fall on the floor, but the dragon had latched on to his face, tiny wings beating the air silently, claws buried in his skin. He screamed with pain, his skin burning with the creature’s energy, and it took advantage of his open mouth to burrow deeply into his body. He convulsed, his heels drumming on the floor.

  Charlotte leapt free of Sig’s protective embrace and went to the prince’s aid. She scanned him, trying to pinpoint the creature’s location. If she could locate its target, then perhaps she could inject him with a paralytic, something that would trap the dragon until she could remove it.

  But the creature had already melted into his body. It was like it had dissolved into thin air, only leaving behind a vibrant trail of energy to mark its passage directly to the prince’s heart. In a matter of moments, the alien life form had fused itself into his body so thoroughly that she doubted they could be separated without killing him.

  “What happened?” Cixi asked, her voice reverent and shaken.

  “The dragon is symbiotic. It needed a host. That’s why the princess’s blood alone wasn’t enough to cause it to hatch. It needed blood and a suitable host.” She looked over at the Emperor’s sprawled body and didn’t need her scanner to tell that he was dead. “The Emperor was already ill, or it might have chosen him. In fact, that’s probably how the Yellow Emperor originally ‘tamed’ the dragon of legend. He simply became a host.”

  “What now?” Ci’an’s voice was dull and she stared brokenly at the young man she’d raised as her own son. “How can we go on?”

  “We must,” Cixi replied. “Is Prince Gong going to recover?”

  In answer, he opened his eyes and took a deep, loud breath. He didn’t ask what had happened—the memory burned in his eyes as brightly as the fledgling. He touched his face, wincing at the tender skin and scratches the creature had left behind. “You’ll have to rule without me.”

  “But—” Cixi began, but he sat up and sharply cut her off.

  “I always told you I refused to rule. That’s why I helped you secure the crown for Zaichun. If you and Ci’an stand together united, you ought to be able to keep the throne. Assuming you can keep Zijin out of Britannia’s clutches,” he finished bitterly, glaring at the holographic image.

  Majel slowly clapped her hands. “Very entertaining, Your Majesties of Zijin. I had no idea the Imperial line hosted such an interesting alien life force. Why don’t you bring this young man to Londonium with you, Wyre? If I know you, and I do, inside and out, there’s nothing you’d like better than to strap him to your instruments so you can study the changes such a symbiosis will cause in his body.”

  “You know nothing about me, Your Majesty.” Turning, she noted that Gil hesitated at the edge of the pavilion. He was the one thing she was certain Majel knew nothing about, and he wasn’t sure if Charlotte would want that knowledge shared with the Queen. Smiling, she held out a hand to him and he immediately stepped into the pavilion to stand with her and Sig. “For instance, you’ve yet to be introduced to my other lover, Gilead Masters of Americus.”

  “How many worthless lovers does it take to rescue you, Wyre? They’ll end up the same way as the young Emperor. Dead. And it shall be solely your fault that they suffer.” Majel’s face hardened, her eyes glittering like obsidian. “With your silly taste for tea and silk, I knew the first place you’d go once you left Americus. I didn’t need to track my Scorpion to know you’d flee to Zijin.”

  She held
up a small box, her thumb hovering over a detonation switch. “You claim that the infamous Lord Regret would never harm you, but when I press this button you’ll all be destroyed. I’d rather have you home with me, but I’ll do what I must. You know me, Wyre. You know I don’t bluff.”

  Charlotte smiled faintly. “I know you well, Your Majesty, and no, indeed, you don’t bluff.”

  “Then get on my ship and fly home.”

  “No.” She moved to join Sig, even taking his arm and pressing close to his side when he tried to move away to spare her if he did detonate. “I don’t bluff either. If you want to try and force me to Londonium, you’ll have a mess to clean up.”

  “Charlie, please.” Sig gripped both her upper arms, squeezing hard as he glared down into her eyes. “Go. Don’t let her win this way. I couldn’t bear it if you were harmed for my sake.” He loosened his grip with one hand so he could lightly trace the faded marks on her neck. His voice quivered with anguish. “I don’t want to hurt you ever again.”

  Releasing Gil, she reached up and cupped Sig’s cheek. “Dearest, you’ve never hurt me. I’d rather die with you now than ever lose you again.”

  “Very sweet,” Queen Majel retorted. “Say your good-byes.”

  “I love you, Gil.” Charlotte adjusted the scanner in her free hand to find the button she’d wired with a surprise this very morning. “And I love you, Sig. Whatever happens, you’ll always be Lord Regret to me.”

  “Charlie,” he choked out, dragging her close in a desperate hug, unknowingly helping her hide the scanner between their bodies. “Please. Don’t do this.”

  Gil pressed against her back and they held her shielded between the two of them, braced for impact. “If he goes, we all go.”

  Only Majel’s sharp, disbelieving inhale told Charlotte that the Queen had depressed the button…and been sorely disappointed when they weren’t blown to smithereens. She turned her head enough to see Majel without lifting her head from Sig’s chest. “His price has been paid, Your Majesty. The last Scorpion Tudor is dead.”

  “What? How?”

  Sig stiffened against her, his eyes widening when the Queen threw the detonator aside like rubbish. “She killed us.”

  “She tried,” Charlotte agreed amicably. “But I warned her she’d have a mess to clean up.”

  He pulled away enough to draw something out of his pocket. Charlotte had never seen that locket before, but from the way Majel’s eyes narrowed, she knew exactly what it was.

  Sig flipped it open and shook out strands of golden hair. Then he threw the locket on the floor and ground it beneath his boot until it made a satisfying crunch. “Scorpion is no more.”

  With that, Charlotte pressed the button on her scanner. “Take cover!” she shouted the warning to Prince Gong and the Dowager Empresses, still kneeling and grieving over their son.

  The sudden silence was deafening. The electromagnetic pulse had targeted the ship’s engine frequency, shutting it down without notice. She’d been worried about her nanobots shutting down accidentally, leaving Sig’s damaged heart to beat alone, but he swept her up over his shoulder and shouted for Gil to lead the way, so he wasn’t negatively impacted. She pushed up enough so she could look at Majel one last time.

  Queen Majel clutched her hands together, her face white with strain. “Please, Charlotte. I’m begging you.”

  The disabled ship crashed into one of the buildings and debris began to tumble from the sky. The Ravens scattered into the fleeing crowd, while Prince Gong slung the Emperor’s body over his shoulder and hurried toward safety with the Dowager Empresses.

  “I’ll help you,” Charlotte yelled over the din, “but in my own way, in my own time. Don’t try to force us to Londonium again!”

  “Wyre!” Majel screamed after them. “Look what your creation has done to me!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Leading the way, Gil dodged smoking chunks of metal, broken cement and stone, praying they could get out of the central park before the entire ship came down on them. Luckily it wasn’t one of the massive warships, but it was still going to cause a lot of damage. He checked back over his shoulder to make sure Sig was keeping up, but he shouldn’t have worried. The man was fueled by Charlotte’s inventions, both his super-powered heart and the buoyant device she’d added to his boots. Even carrying her, he could have easily outpaced Gil, but he kept a steady pace at his back.

  He was more worried about Charlotte. It wasn’t like her to allow one of them to coddle her like this. She’d made no protests when Sig had picked her up, and she certainly hadn’t demanded to be set back down on her own feet. Had she been injured? Knocked unconscious? He didn’t know, and worry burned like acid in the pit of his stomach.

  He fell back beside Sig so he could see her face, and the boiling pit of acid exploded into a full-fledged volcano. Charlotte was crying.

  She ducked her face against her shoulder, burrowing deeper into Sig’s embrace. He’d shifted her down into his arms so she didn’t bounce awkwardly on his shoulder. It shredded Gil’s heart to see her so vulnerable, curled up and crying. He wanted to hold her himself and beg her to tell him what troubled her, but with the Britannian ship falling apart above them, there wasn’t time.

  Gritting his teeth, he fought back the questions. Later. Get her to safety first. Then we can hold each other and simply be glad we’re all still alive.

  He pointed down an alleyway. “This way.” Taking the lead once more, he counted the turns in his head, carefully looking back several times to make sure no one followed them. If she’d disabled the bug in Sig, it wouldn’t do to allow a tail to attach itself to them all over again. Thick black smoke billowed into the air and the piercing shriek of alarms continued in the distance, but no one else roamed these back ways. As he’d hoped when he’d hid the ship here in the wee hours of the morning.

  He had a stitch in his side before they finally left behind the tenements and shops for the larger warehouses along the docks. Guards stood at the entry, but he didn’t slow his pace, merely waved the parchment with the distinctive Imperial golden seal. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when the guards allowed them through. They kept a worried gaze on the smoke in the distance, but evidently word hadn’t spread yet of the Emperor’s demise.

  They hustled aboard and Sig transferred her over to Gil so he could fly them out of the port. She didn’t say anything, but kept her still-wet face pressed to his shirt, her shoulders shaking. Her hands were icy, and even after he tucked her into a chair and belted her in for takeoff, she was listless and withdrawn.

  Their lady would want tea above all.

  “How much longer until we’re ready for takeoff?” he called to Sig in the cockpit.

  “Long enough to make a spot of tea via the replicator. Just splash a healthy dose of good Americus bourbon in with it to put some color back in her cheeks.”

  She hated replicated tea, but they didn’t have time for the real thing. Later, he promised himself again. Once we’re away. Once we’re safe.

  She will be safe.

  Sig was a much better pilot than he’d ever be, but takeoffs were always a little rocky. Especially rushed ones to flee Britannian—and possibly Zijin—forces. So Gil brought her a steaming mug instead of her preferred china teacup. She wrapped her hands around the warm mug and huddled around it like it was a roaring campfire in the wilderness. He slipped off her shoes and chafed her chilly toes between his palms, and then tucked a thick down blanket around her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, still averting her gaze.

  He pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head and then joined Sig in the cockpit. Even the legendary Lady Wyre needed a little time to gather her composure.

  “That was good work getting a paper from the Emperor.” Sig’s hands flew over the panel without him even having to look. “Any bets whether that ship was alone or not?”

  “I’m betting not.” Gil turned on the radio, hoping to pick up news of other ships. “Majel wou
ld never put all her eggs in one basket.”

  “Right. So how do we get out of here?” Muttering, Sig lifted Oblivion out of the dock and steered for the main port exit. The entire airspace was empty, which sure didn’t look good for their escape. “Have they already shut down Bei-Jing?”

  Gil checked the news alerts. “Not that I’ve seen. Maybe everyone was docked for the Imperial procession.”

  “Or maybe there are a couple of Britannian birds of prey shooting everyone out of the sky as soon as they pop up on the radar.” They both scanned the skies and view panels constantly, but nothing showed up. “Where’d she say she wanted to go next?”

  “Morocco.”

  Sig entered the coordinates and then settled back against the pilot’s chair. “Brace for maximum speed. Charlie, lock that mug away, sweetheart!”

  The engines rumbled beneath them, building speed to fight out of the planet’s gravity field. With all the friction, they lost visibility. All they could do was hold on, wait until they cleared the upper levels of the atmosphere, and hope for the best.

  Gil braced his head against the back of the seat and tried to keep his body loose, instead of fighting the pull of gravity. Pressure made the entire right side of his head throb. His swollen lip felt like it was going to split open again, and he feared his blackened eye might just pop out of his skull.

  Finally, they soared free of Bei-Jing’s atmosphere. They were already at the edge of Zijin’s system, but they had to pass the chain of satellite moons—of which the most popular was Hoeng Gong. The one Ci’an had ceded to Britannia. If Majel had already claimed it…

  The comm beeped, making Gil jump.

  “It’s Prince Gong’s personal signature on a secure line.” Sig answered the call. “Your Majesty, this is Oblivion. How may we help you?”

  “I’m hoping I may help you one last time,” Prince Gong replied. Behind him, Gil could make out the server room of Xuanyuan. “Thanks to Lady Wyre, we were easily able to prevent the Britannian hackers from taking over as she suggested they would.”