Dragon's Hope (The Dragon Corps Book 3)

by Natalie Grey

  They had to hurry not to be spotted in any of the tunnels. A roar of machinery sounded deep below, humming through the rock and up through their boots. There was the steady tramp of feet nearby, and the low murmur of greetings, told them that the workers were passing in the halls, some exhausted, others awaiting the coming hours with dread. Samara herself had her shoulders hunched, and Cade could see the tension in her head as she kept herself from looking at the wall, as if to see through the wall to the people nearby.

  The heat grew as they descended, and sweat ran in rivulets, stinging in the cuts along his side. He winced as they ducked and wove around tumbled rocks, Samara effortlessly finding her way through what looked like dead ends.

  When at last they broke into the bunker, Cade stretched up to his full height once more, feeling tension melt away. He hated being stuck in small spaces, curling his spine to accommodate what were already low ceilings for people much shorter than he was. Although the bunker was small, he could at least stand up straight, and the ceiling disappeared into shadow above the low red emergency lights, creating the illusion of space, if not a reality.

  “Are we in the right bunker?”

  “They’re just not back yet.” Samara pointed to a low bench. “Sit.” A small industrial lamp came on in a blaze of light. “We should make sure everything’s staying patched up. Whoever helped you out last time didn’t do a very good job.” She looked around for a medical kit.

  “That was on purpose.” Cade stripped off his shirt and sat, watching her unpack supplies. They were cheap, antibacterial wipes and cloth bandages, meant to let the body heal at its own pace. A few syringes and bottles pointed to slightly more advanced technology, but there was little there. “Are you sure you can spare this?”

  “Today’s the day, isn’t it?” Samara managed a lopsided smile. “No use keeping this back. Lift your arm.”

  He complied, watching as she cleaned the cuts and scrapes along his side. He tried not to wince as her fingers probed gently along each rib.

  “Those are healing clean, at least. And how’s your head?”

  “Much better.” He shuddered at the memory. “I don’t recommend the experience, though.”

  “Probably not any of it,” Samara said, flashing a smile up at him. She bit her lip. “I probably shouldn’t laugh about it.”

  “No, you should,” Cade assured her. He let his breath out slowly, closing his eyes as her fingers found another cut. “It is funny, isn’t it? I mean, really funny. Here I was, saying I’d never go back, and in the space of a month….”

  “In the space of a month…?” she prompted.

  “God, I was stupid. I saw it happening. I kept telling myself that Ellian was throwing us together, that it was like he wanted us to fall in love. And it never even occurred to me to believe what I was seeing.”

  “That’s what happened?” She sat back on her heels, looking up at him. “Why?”

  “He was beginning to fall in love with Aryn,” Cade said. He could not keep the note of disbelief from his voice. “And so he said he had to know if he could trust her. And he played us like chess pieces. I wonder….”

  “What?” Samara asked softly. She pushed up the legs of his pants and examined his legs and his feet, beginning to clean the cuts there.

  “If it was real,” Cade said finally. The words shocked him into silence and he sat frozen as Samara finished her work and put his foot down gently. Instead of starting on his other side, she came to sit beside him.

  “May I say something?”

  He looked over at her wordlessly.

  “Aryn was my best friend,” Samara said quietly. “I nearly lost her over the last two years. I watched her fade away, and I told myself that nothing was wrong, that she was safe—whatever that meant. I didn’t think about it too hard. I told myself I’d done the right thing by not telling her who Ellian was, but all the time, I knew she was bound to figure it out, and every day it seemed like she got a little farther away. It seems melodramatic to say she was dying, but sometimes I was afraid she was. I just didn’t know how to help.

  “And then, a few weeks ago, it was like she came alive. It wasn’t happiness. She wasn’t….” Samara looked away. “If anything, that was when she realized just how trapped she was. She was scared, and she was sad. But she was alive again. I didn’t understand until I saw her get off that ship.” Her voice dropped. “Until I saw her look at you,” she finished quietly.

  Words were frozen on his tongue; there were so many questions he wanted to ask that they drowned one another out, and he was left with his mind in a whirl of words, and nothing to say.

  “So when you say you wonder whether it’s real or not,” Samara told him, “I know half of the answer. It’s real for her. Is it real for you?”

  “He threw us together.” Cade’s voice was bitter. He looked away. “It was a setup. It was….”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Yes!” The word burst out of him and he sank his head into his hands. “I loved her before I even saw her face. She was standing, staring out at the city, and she was so alone, but she was trying to be so brave…” He tried to find the words. “And I hated her. I could see she was lying to Ellian, playing a part. I thought—well, I thought he didn’t know. I felt sorry for him.”

  He was going to be sick at the memory.

  “But you didn’t give up on her.”

  “How could I?” Cade asked her finally. He looked over into her brown eyes, gleaming faintly in the white light. “I tried. I really, honestly tried to hate her.”

  To his surprise, Samara laughed. The sound was crystalline and perfect, unbroken by her years in the mines.

  “And I’ll bet she helped. Aryn always tried to keep people at arm’s length. It’s a strange thing, in someone who….” She shrugged, hunching her shoulders as she thought. “Who cares as much as she does, I guess.”

  “How did it happen?” he asked her suddenly. “Her, and Ellian.” He almost did not want to know, and yet he had to.

  “He saw her at the market,” Samara said shortly. “Everyone noticed before she did. She was with Nura, buying grain, and Ellian was stopped in the middle of the street, just staring at her.”

  Something in her voice was wrong, broken. Cade took in the set of her shoulders, her eyes.

  “What is it?”

  “I was the one who told her to go,” Samara whispered. “She wasn’t sure she could love him. She told him that, said she didn’t know him. It was sensible, wasn’t it? He was offering too much, everyone could see it, that she’d be a trophy wife. Her parents were too nice to push her to do it, even though they had everything to gain, and so it had to be me. I was the one who persuaded her.”

  “Why?”

  “So she’d get out!” Samara’s voice rose. She shook her head, turning her face away. “You don’t know what it’s like, watching your friends die like this. You think it’s a terrible life, not having love, but that’s the way you think when this isn’t the other option. At least she would be alive. That was what I told myself. And because of who I was … she believed me.”

  “Who you were?” Cade looked over at her, and Samara looked down at her lap, shrugging her shoulders.

  “It wasn’t … well, I suppose it wasn’t much of anything to her. I mean, it couldn’t be nothing, she’s too sweet for that, but….”

  Cade blinked. He could make neither head nor tail of this. When her head came up, he met her eyes.

  “Aryn and I were lovers,” Samara said finally.

  It fell into place and Cade felt his mouth fall open.

  “I’m so—”

  “You don’t have to be sorry.” She looked straight ahead, letting her breath out slowly, then looked over and met his gaze, clear-eyed. “I mean it. You don’t. She’s in love with you, I can see that. And you … they said one of the first things you did down in the mine was ask for her. That you were saying her name in your sleep.”

  He sank his head into his
hands. He should not say this, not to Samara, but he could not keep the words back.

  “We were going to run away together,” he said quietly. “Right before the Warlord took her.”

  “Cade.” She looked over at him. Footsteps were echoing down the passageway, and she dropped her voice. “You still can. Take her, and go. Build a life together, far from here. Get her out before the fighting starts.”

  “She’s not going to leave before this is finished, if that’s what you’re hoping.”

  “She’s stubborn.” Samara gave a little laugh. “And I think you’re a lot like her. You aren’t going to leave the people you love to fight alone. But please, for all of us—do what you can to keep her safe. I know it’s not my place to ask. I know she’s bound to try to do something heroic. Just try. Don’t give up on her.”

  “Never.” Cade looked over. “It isn’t that that worries me.”

  “Then what?” She cast a quick glance at the door. Talon’s voice was carrying toward them, low and urgent.

  “The Aryn you know,” Cade told her quietly, “is honorable, and kind, and beautiful, and….”

  “And?” She hesitated, then reached out to take his hand tentatively.

  “And I’m a killer,” Cade said bluntly.

  25

  Julian pushed his way through the evening crowds, trying not to snarl at people to get out of his way. He had spent most of the past few days at the office, wary and unsettled whenever he was in his apartment—the maintenance people kept insisting that there wasn’t any record or video of the window opening, but knew he hadn’t imagined it. Safer to be at the office.

  It was too risky, however, to have this particular discussion at work. And so Julian had taken the call and hurried away, locking the doors of the office. He was trying to keep up the pretense that Soras was still at work, simply shut up in his office taking care of “the business on Ymir,” but people were beginning to suspect.

  He fought the feeling that things were beginning to slide out of place. Before, the potential problems, such as overzealous researchers, had happened one at a time. They could be taken care of unhurriedly, in a variety of ways. Soras would meet with them, assure them that he shared their concerns. Julian would arrange a transfer, one they promised would allow the person to continue their work. Occasionally, he arranged for accidents, but only rarely. One wanted to give matters a light touch and not leave tracks.

  And then too many people had begun to suspect at the same time—and Soras, that fool, had tried to turn the Dragons against one another.

  He should have known better. Not that Julian would ever say so, of course, but it was true.

  The tiresome hold music in his ear finally stopped, and he took a deep breath to steady his temper. He should not have been put on hold. It was an insult. A representative of the Warlord, holder of the most expensive contract in Kell Corporation’s history, should be treated with respect.

  “Mr. Abraveya.” The voice on the other end was smooth and cultured. “I am sorry about the delay. There were important matters to attend to.”

  “I see.” Julian was not a fool. The man was clearly not at all apologetic. He pressed the earpiece into his ear in an attempt to drown out the sound of helicopters overhead. What business is more important than mine?

  “I see that you would like to arrange for more troops to be sent to Ymir. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Julian almost snarled. The helicopters were really very distracting. “Twenty thousand, to arrive within—”

  “I’m afraid we will not be able to fulfill that contract,” the voice said without hesitation.

  Julian stopped in his tracks, causing several people behind him to stumble and swear. “…What?”

  “I’m sure you can understand. There are a variety of reasons, but we simply cannot—”

  “Who?” Julian asked. Just the one word.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Who told you not to take this contract? You were clearly expecting my call. You didn’t even think it over.” He needed to stop talking and collect his thoughts, but his anger was getting the better of him.

  Then he saw the tower, and took the earpiece out of his ear slowly.

  There were helicopters swarming around one of the upper levels, and Julian didn’t have to count to know which level they were on: 112, his floor. He pushed his way to the door, where several police officers waited.

  “What happened?”

  “The air purification systems on level 112 failed.” The officer gave a smile. “All inhabitants have been evacuated safely and maintenance will be—”

  Julian wasn’t listening. He stared up at the helicopters and felt a sick sense of dread. He should have been home when this happened. He had deactivated the security cameras in his apartment, out of fear, and whoever had gone after him the first time, must not have known he wasn’t there.

  Because he would normally be home by now, and he would bet all the money he had that the alarms in his apartment would not have gone off.

  “I apologize for the delay.” The Kell Corporation representative reappeared on the screen. “I needed to take that call.”

  “Was it Mr. Abraveya?” Tera asked sweetly.

  The man hesitated only briefly. “It was.”

  “And?”

  “As requested, I told him that we would be unable to fulfill the contract he requested.” He clearly looked troubled. “Are you quite sure, Ms.—”

  “I am entirely sure,” Tera said, hastening past the question of her surname.

  “And you can assure me that Kell Corporation will not be held accountable for the … incident.” The man looked nervous.

  He should be. Tera tried not to let her smile go too cold. Thirty years ago, Kell Corporation had sold tens of thousands of its mercenaries, and their families, into service to the Warlord. The payout had been immense … and the mercenaries had not realized that the assignment would be permanent, lasting for generations.

  For years, Kell Corporation had kept the secret, afraid that they would be—rightly—accused of slave trading. Now, the contact there was afraid that the secret would come out.

  And it would. Oh, it would. Tera would make sure of that.

  Soon. For now, she was cheerfully lying to them.

  So far, it seemed to be working.

  “You told me you have supplied troops to Mr. Pallas, and that he has also asked you to refrain from sending further troops to the Warlord’s aid. Isn’t that so?”

  He swallowed. “Yes.”

  “The Alliance government is prepared to forgive current leadership of any involvement in the Warlord’s rise to power,” Tera lied. She had used every trick she knew, every bit of information gleaned from her father’s career, to convince this man that she was a representative of the Alliance. “So long as you do not continue to come to his aid.”

  “Of course. Of course.” The man nodded. “We … we would never.”

  Tera was quite sure that if not for the intervention of both herself and Ellian Pallas, Kell Corporation would indeed have sold more troops to the Warlord. However, that was for later.

  At the trial.

  For now, she sweetened the deal with another lie. “While you were speaking to Mr. Abraveya, I had a word with my superiors on your behalf. They are prepared to bid even higher than agreed—125% of the amount Mr. Abraveya was prepared to offer. We understand that profits must come first for a company.”

  His instincts should have told him that this was too much, but he was greedy, and he was so relieved that she seemed to believe his lies, that he accepted the false bargain eagerly.

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, if you will excuse me—”

  “When can we expect the money to be delivered?”

  If she’d ever had any intentions of trying to help him, they disappeared, but Tera knew better than to let the mask slip now. “Within the day, I should think. I’m afraid I don’t work in accounting.”

  She hung u
p and stared at the screen, letting her face settle into the glare she had wanted to give him. If anyone should get the money, it was the families of the soldiers who had been sold. Kell Corporation should pay them. The Warlord should—

  Now, there was an idea.

  Tera looked over to make sure the doors to her room were still locked, and brought up the internal servers at Kell Corporation. Somewhere, there would be a record of how money had been delivered.

  Trace that back, and she would find the money given to them for the soldiers they provided.

  Trace that, and she might find the Warlord’s money.

  The soldiers had likely decided to make the best of their unexpected assignment, but if she were to offer them back pay and transport off Ymir…. Well, that might make everything easier for the Alliance.

  She set to work with a will.

  26

  Aryn ground her teeth in frustration. If Talon didn’t hurry up, she was going to climb over him to get down the hallway. He was between her and Cade, and he was moving at the pace of a diseased, drunken sloth—while she could hear Cade’s voice, and Samara’s echoing softly up the corridor. She couldn’t make out what was being said, she just knew he was alive, and awake, and she had to get to him. She very nearly shoved Talon down the half flight of stairs as he walked down them with Nyx, into the expanse of the bunker.

  Cade stood when he saw her, and world stopped moving. For a moment, she could see nothing beyond him, the familiar bulk of his tall frame, green eyes shining faintly in the light, and—she drew in her breath sharply—bruises vivid on his skin.

  And then she was moving, flying down the stairs and across the floor as he took two strides and caught her up in his arms. She laughed as she swung, breathless, her lips against his and her arms around his neck. When he drew away to lean his forehead against hers, his arms still holding her effortlessly, she saw the pain in his face.