by JC Cassels
The repair vehicles glided to a halt. The doors opened and two uniformed teams spilled out and surrounded the shuttle. A tall, slender man in a tailored suit stepped out of the nearest repair transport. The shuttle doors clicked and popped, then cranked noisily open.
“He’s grown,” Bhruic said, rising from his crouch and tucking his blaster away.
“That’s what happens in fifteen years or so,” Royce said, also rising.
Bo and Blade followed suit.
Edge strode onto the shuttle. His green eyes took in everything. His gaze flicked over Blade, dismissing him. Turning his attention on Bhruic, his expression softened.
“Hi, Pop.”
Bhruic held out his arms. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said.
Arms spread wide, Edge swooped down on Bhruic, gathering his stepfather to him in a massive hug.
Blade shifted beside Bo, his grip on his blaster tightening. He scanned the uniformed team standing guard outside the shuttle. His mouth tensed. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
Bo looked from her father and brother to Blade. Chalking up his discomfort to never really having had a father, she passed her Capre to her other hand and took his hand. Her fingers laced with his and she gave him a reassuring squeeze.
When Edge finally released Bhruic and stepped back, he shook hands with Royce. He would have hugged Bo, but Blade’s warning glare stopped him.
“Good to see you’re fine, brat.”
Bo shook her head over Blade’s protective posture. “Edge, you’ve spoken with Blade before.”
Edge nodded. “I have.”
He looked Blade over.
“You’re taller than I expected.”
Blade nodded. “So are you.”
“You know Blade is family,” Bhruic said.
Edge didn’t look at him. “Is that right?”
“Bo joined with him. He’s Barron Clan now – same as you.”
With a nod, Edge stepped back and held out a hand to Blade in truce. “That’s my father’s way of saying we’re brothers,” he said.
Blade’s lips quirked and the tension melted from him. “I suppose we are.” He holstered his blaster and shook Edge’s hand.
“So long as you never hurt my sister, Redmaster Blue’s resources are at your disposal.”
“If you ever hurt my wife, Redmaster Blue won’t have any resources by the time I’m finished.”
Edge’s lips curved in a smile. “I like you.”
Dropping Blade’s hand, he stepped over to his father. “I know you’re planning on heading back to Mondhuoun,” he said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, clear bag filled with finance cards and small electronics. “You’ll need these for travel. If anyone is trying to track you, these will ping me and I’ll run interference for you. The com-set and data reader are completely secure and untraceable. If you need to contact me, find a public com booth and scan the blue card with the red stripe. The connect code is my birthdate. I’ve arranged secure travel for you, but once you get to Mondhuoun, you’re on your own. My people and I will take you to your ship.”
Bhruic nodded and hoisted his bag onto the bench seat. He unfastened the top and slipped the bag of identicards and electronics inside.
“Thank you, son,” he said. “You do me proud.”
Edge nodded towards Bo. “You need to say your good-byes here, where you’ve got some privacy.”
Edge stepped away and smiled his encouragement at Bo.
Taking a deep breath, she peered up at her father and squared her shoulders.
“Papa…”
Bhruic turned with a small, tender smile on his lips. “What is it, Princess?”
Bo glanced down at the gleaming black weapon in her hands before meeting his stare. “This is yours,” she said. “You’re The Barron, not me.” She held it out to him.
Bhruic exchanged a look with his brother. He set down his bag and moved to stand in front of Bo. He covered her hands with his own, closing her fingers around the Capre.
“Keep it.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I—”
He cut her off with a wink and a nod. “You’ve earned the right to carry it,” he said. “Galen may have been running the government in my absence, but you’ve been the heart and soul of Mondhuoun. The Barron is more than just a head of state. The Barron is the symbol of everything the Mondhuic value. We didn’t take our office by force of arms. The other clans elected The Barron to represent Mondhuoun to the rest of the Commonwealth because of Black Wing values: Duty…, Responsibility…, Service. I don’t know many Barrons who would have endured what you have with the same dignity. I know I wouldn’t.”
Bo’s eyes widened and she shook her head. Her father chuckled.
“I’d have started a civil war over it.” He watched her, waiting for his confession to sink in. “I’d have gotten our people killed and disgraced the Black Wing beyond redemption. You’ve already proven yourself a better Barron than I.”
He patted her hands. Searching her face one last time, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You’ve grown into a fine woman, Bo. You’ll be a good Barron when it’s your time.”
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. Bo closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar smell of him. He smelled like the woods of the Gallic Highlands…like home. She slid her arms around her father and clung to him, feeling as frightened and abandoned as she had ten years earlier when he’d placed himself in medical stasis. Tears slipped free from her tightly closed eyelids and dampened his shirt. His heart thumped a steady rhythm against her cheek.
“I don’t want you to leave me, Papa,” she said, her voice heavy with the tears still locked inside. “I want to go with you. I want to go home.”
“Shhh,” he said. “You want to come with me now? Like this?”
She nodded.
“Let’s go,” he said. His arms tightened around her.
Bo lifted her head and looked up at him.
“I mean it,” Bhruic said. “It’s always been your choice, Bo.”
He let that sink in.
“Say the word, Princess. I’ll recall the Black Wing and we’ll prepare for war with the Second Sector.”
Bo leaned her cheek against his chest once more. “I don’t want to start a war.”
“It may not come to that,” Bhruic said.
She peered up at him.
“There may still be a diplomatic solution we haven’t tried yet.”
Bo shook her head. “They convicted me. They sentenced me. You would be charged with aiding a fugitive and obstructing justice.”
He chuckled. “It’s one thing to charge you. It’s something completely different to charge me. I’m Bhruic Barron, hero of Vin Nasatt, General of the Black Wing, highly-decorated savior of the House of Scull. I’m not without allies and connections.” He looked to Blade. “For that matter, neither are you, whether you realize or not.”
He held Blade’s stare for a long moment before Blade looked away, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“You forget,” Bhruic said. “I’ve been The Barron for a long time.”
Bo searched his face, looking for some sign of what he wanted her to say or do. He smiled down at her, patiently waiting for her decision but giving away nothing of his preference. Bo looked to Royce for help. His expression, like her father’s, was carefully neutral. The decision was hers alone. No matter the outcome, her father would shoulder the burden of responsibility for the consequences, as was The Barron’s job.
She sighed. She’d carried that responsibility on her own shoulders for too long to take the easy way out now.
“No,” she said. “As much as I would love to go home with you, I couldn’t live with myself if I started a war just because I was homesick and wanted to spend time with my father.”
Bhruic’s smile widened in approval. “Duty, Responsibility, Service,” he said. “It’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
With one last kiss on her temple, he
released her and stepped back. Bhruic offered his hand to Blade.
“Take care of my little girl, now.”
“I will, sir.”
The two men shook hands.
“Sir?” Bhruic chuckled. “I like that. Sir.” He looked to Royce and nodded towards Blade. “He called me sir.”
Royce lifted his chin in acknowledgement. “Don’t let it go to your head.” He picked up Bhruic’s bag and held it out. “Come on. We’re gonna miss our ship.”
Bhruic looked to Bo one last time, studying her face. A faraway look entered his eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he said. “So like your mother.”
“Bhruic, you’re gonna see her again, come on.”
Taking his bag from his brother, Bhruic turned, reluctance in every line of his posture. He followed Royce to the shuttle door, but hesitated before stepping out. He turned and smiled at Bo.
“I love you, Princess,” he said. “Don’t ever forget that.”
Tears stung Bo’s eyes. Blade dropped his arm around her shoulders and he pulled her up against his side. Bo nodded.
“I love you, too, Papa.”
“Clear skies, Bhruic.”
With a wave, he stepped onto the tarmac.
Edge watched him go. “Pop never did like mushy good-byes.” He smiled at Bo. “Where are you two headed now?”
Blade’s grip on her tightened. “Cormoran,” he said. “The Watchtower is ready for release and Bo’s agreed to come with me for the premiere and publicity tour.”
Edge nodded. He pointed at the Capre clasped in her hand. “My flawless ident cards won’t do you any good if anybody sees you with that.”
Bo looked at the weapon. With a small sigh, she handed it to him, butt first.
“I’ll put it in your locker on Sundance before I head back to the office,” he assured her. He glanced at Blade. “Be careful on Cormoran. I’ll be monitoring you as usual, but getting backup to you will be tricky.” He canted his head at Blade. “You know there’s a contract out on you, right?”
Blade nodded.
“It’s on the hush low,” Edge said. “It’s a private contract, not a public one. They didn’t even go through the guild. One assassin.”
“Do you know who?”
Edge shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “It reeks of politics. Whoever took it out is discreet. Whoever they tapped for it is equally discreet. Lord Marin has sent a team from his own Janizary to Cormoran. They’re waiting for you. I’m guessing they’re your protection. Watch your back. I don’t want my sister caught in the crossfire.”
“I’ll keep her safe.”
Edge grinned. “If you don’t, I’ll siphon all your accounts and take out a contract on you myself.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
No accounting for what a little slut can accomplish when she sells herself to the right man. She was no better than her bitch of a mother.
The corners of his mouth cracked under the pressure of his social smile. Thank the Maker he was too well trained to let his feelings show.
Galen rose from the massive seat reserved for The Barron in the Mondhuic General Assembly. Like the others, he applauded The Barron’s return. Unlike the others, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The assembly chamber’s massive doors flung wide enough to admit five men. The Barron stepped through alone and paused just inside. The roar of the crowd swelled to deafening heights, echoing from the high vaulted ceiling. The dark stone vibrated with the noise. The building itself amplified the fanatical cheering.
Galen’s ears rang with the force of it. He glanced around, gauging his cousin’s reception. His lips twisted slightly in annoyance.
They were supposed to let him die. When he found the idiot responsible for this…well…it wouldn’t be pleasant for anyone.
Bhruic Barron raised his hand in greeting.
If possible, the ecstatic cheering intensified.
This was no polite greeting for a tolerated head of state. Bhruic Barron was a beloved hero, Commanding General of The Black Wing, the Hero of Vin Nasatt. Guests in the gallery worked themselves into a frenzy, hyperventilating, screaming, reaching for him as though he were sent from on high to save them from themselves. People lining the parade route from the port had been much the same, throwing flowers and gifts at his feet as he’d walked the entire way with only a Black Wing honor guard to escort him.
Galen’s stare shifted past him.
And Royce Barron had been behind him, every step of the way.
Even now, Royce trailed discreetly after him, his hawkish gaze scanning the crowd.
Bhruic made his way, slowly, inexorably along the assembly chamber, shaking hands and accepting the well-wishes and cheers of the clans and their representatives.
Inwardly, Galen chafed at the delay, at the sycophantic fawning of the men and women who had barely tolerated him for the past ten years.
Hyper-aware of the holocams from every news outlet in the Commonwealth, Galen tamped down his annoyance and reached for his cousin’s hand as Bhruic mounted the steps to the podium. Royce’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Bhruic gripped his hand harder than necessary and leaned close to him.
“Welcome back, cousin,” Galen said in his ear.
“Thank you…cousin.” A determined glint shone in Bhruic’s amber eyes. “I hope you haven’t found my chair too uncomfortable in my absence.”
Galen forced a smile. “I am only too pleased to relinquish it to you,” he said.
“Good,” Bhruic said.
“You look well. It would seem stasis agrees with you.”
“Oddly enough, whatever life-threatening disease I had before I went in is miraculously healed,” Bhruic said. “My medic said it was caused by toxins in my system.”
“Really?”
Bhruic’s hand crushed down on his. His nostrils flared in fury and a fierce gleam lit his eyes. His mouth was set in a hard line. An unspoken threat hovered in the air between them
A chill ran down Galen’s spine.
He knew.
He had no proof of Galen’s involvement, but he knew.
“First order of business is to re-evaluate my household.” Bhruic’s gravelly voice filled with deadly promise. “I’ll be making sweeping changes from the kitchens to the Assembly.”
Galen’s palm slickened with perspiration, but Bhruic didn’t release his grip.
“I am, as ever, at your disposal, Barron.” Galen’s head dipped in a shallow bow.
Bhruic released his hand.
Galen stepped aside. Blood rushed back into his hand and he held it behind his back, flexing and curling his throbbing fingers, checking for injury.
Bhruic stepped up to the lectern and held up his hands for quiet. The crowd continued to cheer. After several long moments, the noise faded enough to allow him to address the assembly.
“Mondhuoun kir brahay!” he shouted.
The crowd roared once more, but obediently calmed when he lifted his hands for quiet.
However much Galen hated him, he still had to admire the ease with which he worked the mob.
“It’s good to be home,” Bhruic said.
Again the audience responded.
“In my absence, a grave injustice has been done to all Mondhuic,” he went on.
Jeers and hisses swelled from the ranks and faded.
“The attack at Frostfire was a great tragedy for all involved,” Bhruic said.
The crowd hushed at the mention of Frostfire. Bhruic’s gaze flicked over the assembly and settled on Galen.
“My sympathy goes with the families of those who were brutally killed. However, I do not believe justice has been served and I fear that the parties responsible for this atrocity have gone unpunished.”
Confused murmuring swelled from the assembly.
“I have studied the transcripts of the investigation into the events leading to the Frostfire incident. I have also studied the court transcripts of the trials that followed. The decisions reached co
ncerning Frostfire have been a source of great debate among legal scholars. The consensus of the finest legal minds in the Commonwealth is that there has been a grave miscarriage of justice. There was insufficient evidentiary support to uphold a guilty verdict…, yet a guilty verdict was reached.”
He paused a moment, letting the audience process his words.
“I have spoken with my daughter at length about her involvement in Frostfire, and I am convinced of her innocence in the matter.”
The audience exploded in approval. When the applause died down, he went on.
“I made a promise to her, and I make the same promise to all citizens of Mondhuoun: I will dedicate myself to clearing her of all charges, and I will bring the Ostra Child home!”
His words fell over Galen with all the force of one of heavy-hinged doors in the dungeons beneath the Caer slamming shut.
Bhruic raised his voice over the wild applause of the assembly. “And I will see that those responsible are brought to justice and threaten our way of life no more! I swear to you upon my honor as The Barron! It. Shall. Be. Done!”
The Mondhuic in the assembly chamber leaped to their feet in wild approval.
“Barron!”
“Barron!”
With trepidation, Galen eyed The Barron as he stood, hands lifted to the ceiling, the people of Mondhuoun chanting his name. A small smile played about Bhruic’s lips as he surveyed his domain and accepted the tribute as his due.
Holy Maker.
What the hell was he going to do now?
***
The noise from the screaming crowd outside grew louder as the limo neared the theater. A long line of luxury cruisers clogged the thoroughfare ahead, forcing the vehicle to a halt.
A small knot of eager bystanders broke through the orange barricades and rushed the line of cruisers. A dozen young fans hit the tinted windows in an excited frenzy. Cupping their hands around their eyes, they pressed their faces against the windows and peered in. An ear-splitting shriek cut the air. One young woman started pounding on the windows and screaming Blade’s name. Like a siren call, a new wave of fans swarmed over the cruiser, pounding on the windows and shouting his name.
Bo pressed closer to his side, her hand reaching for the palm blaster strapped to her thigh.
