Rebel Heat

by Cyndi Friberg

  Garin’s glass was nearly empty, but he waved away the drink steward. “Was Sevrin unable to locate the original females as I suspected or is she simply playing games with me?”

  There was no easy way to broach the subject, so Nazerel just spit it out. “Sevrin is dead. She was killed by the Mystic Militia when they raided her lab two, or has it been three, days ago.”

  Setting his glass aside, Garin scooted to the edge of his seat. “And all of Pern’s contracts become null and void with the death of his only heir.”

  Nazerel nodded. Garin didn’t seem overly upset, but it was hard to tell with Garin. He had mastered his expressions long ago. Pern had other offspring, but Sevrin was the only one he had honored with a legal claim. All the others were simply battle born, unable to inherit his titles or fulfill his contracts.

  “Does Quinton know?” Bandar’s expressions were easier to read, though he often seemed grim and angry.

  “The Ontarians will wait until they’re good and ready before they inform Quinton, but he has spies everywhere.”

  “Unfortunately for him, most of them actually work for me.” It wasn’t an idle boast. Quinton wasn’t well liked. None of the Keires had been, which made it easy for Garin to flip Quinton’s informants. The problem with double agents was they notoriously flipped back whenever things became too dangerous.

  “If he doesn’t know about Sevrin already, it’s just a matter of time before he learns.”

  “How much of Sevrin’s research did she share with her uncle? Their relationship has always been strained.”

  Nazerel paused before he answered. Garin’s interest in the data was understandable. It was also dangerous. If anyone had the moral fortitude to control something so powerful, it was Garin. Still, ultimate power corrupted ultimately. Nazerel didn’t want to cause the downward spiral of one of the few honorable men he’d ever known. “According to Flynn she was playing the same game with Quinton that she was playing with you, excuses and evasions. She’d hint at developments that never happened, while she promised astonishing breakthroughs were just around the corner.”

  “Sevrin isn’t or wasn’t a scientist,” Bandar pointed out. “What happed to her research team? They’re the ones with the actual knowledge.”

  “Everyone was taken to Ontariese. If the Mystics are smart, they’ll scan everyone for details and then scrub their minds of the memories.”

  Bandar waved away the possibility. “Ontarian Mystics are too squeamish for such a ruthless course of action. They’ll give them a stern warning or make them sign a contract.” He scoffed at the idea and shook his head. “Any chance we can intercept them before they’re returned to Rodymia.”

  “Normally, I’d agree with you, but there’s a new player on the Ontarian team.”

  “Varrik.” Garin nodded. “No Shadow Assassin will settle for a diplomatic resolution.”

  “And he is now life bonded with the high queen’s daughter,” Nazerel reminded.

  “A development, I still find hard to believe.” Garin shook away the speculation then summarized. Keeping things clean and simple was what Garin did best. “So containment is our objective in regard to the research. If the Ontarians are foolish enough to release any of the scientists with their memories intact, we’ll intercept them. Despite the very real temptation, such secrets are better left alone.”

  Relief washed over Nazerel. He needed Garin’s power and influence, but he really hadn’t wanted to keep Sevrin’s research in play. It was time to move the conversation on toward other discoveries. “Flynn also provided me with copies of various messages.”

  “What sort of messages?” Garin’s voice took on a growly undertone though Nazerel wasn’t sure what caused the displeasure.

  “The sort that confirm Quinton’s duplicity. Even if Sevrin had managed to locate the empowered females—which I don’t believe she did—they had no intention of turning them over as promised.”

  Despite the subtle tensing of his jaw, Garin appeared remarkably calm. “The entire situation became irrelevant the moment Sevrin died.” No Rodyte accepted betrayal with such indifference. He had to be furious. Yet he was disciplined enough to know other things were more important right now. “You mentioned an alternative.”

  “Pern refused to divulge the specifics of his plan to even his closest allies. Your father assumed it was because they would object to the means by which Pern was producing empowered brides. The truth is much more interesting.”

  “Go on,” Bandar urged. “Zilor hasn’t said a world. Obviously, we’re captivated.”

  Zilor punched Bandar in the arm and Bandar responded with a semi-playful push. It was easy to picture the two as boys, wrestling and chasing each other with enough enthusiasm to shake the house. Nazerel had always envied the closeness of the Nox brothers. Each challenge they faced, and there had been many, they faced together.

  “Pern didn’t genetically engineer empowered hybrids as he led everyone to believe.” Suddenly three sets of eyes stared at Nazerel with rapt interest. “He stumbled upon a naturally occurring genetic anomaly.”

  “What sort of anomaly and how often does it occur?” Never one to mince words, Garin cut right to the heart of the matter.

  “Every time a battle born male breeds with a human female their female offspring will possess magic abilities. They’re usually similar to the father’s, but there have been throwbacks to previous generations.”

  Zilor shook his head, clearly confused by the statement. “Battle born males don’t have abilities. That’s the problem.”

  “That’s what you were taught, what they want you to believe, but it’s not true. Battle born males can’t access their abilities, but they possess them. Apparently the genetic anomaly requires two xx chromosomes to manifest. Whenever a y chromosome is present, the abilities remain dormant.”

  “Then only female offspring will be empowered?” Garin rubbed his chin as speculation narrowed his eyes.

  “Yes, but it’s consistent. Every single girl born to a battle born male and a human female will be able to manipulate magic.”

  “But this only happens when battle born males impregnate human females?” Bandar wanted to know.

  Nazerel nodded. “It’s a very specific equation. Human female plus Rodyte/Bilarrian hybrid male equals empowered female offspring. If even one of the constants changes in any way, the equation fails.”

  “Did the messages indicate if Quinton ever intended to tell us about this anomaly?” Bandar’s eyes glinted dangerously. Of the three brothers, he was having the strongest reaction to the information. That wasn’t surprising. Garin wasn’t battle born and nothing bothered Zilor.

  “I’m not sure Quinton knows about it. Pern was the one who identified the pattern and Sevrin understood the value of the information. I think she intended on using it against Quinton. All of the messages between Sevrin and Quinton dealt with genetic manipulation. I’m relatively sure Sevrin didn’t share her secret with Quinton before the Mystic Militia ended her life.”

  “But the Ontarians know?” Zilor mused.

  “They have many more reasons not to tell Quinton than to tell him,” Nazerel pointed out.

  “As do we.” Bandar was still glowering.

  “I agree,” Garin stressed. “I’m not sure what, if anything, we should do with the information, but Quinton must never find out.”

  That really fired up Bandar. He slammed his empty glass down on the end table and shot to his feet. “You might not know what to do with this information, but I sure as damnation do! We’ve been treated like failures our entire lives. We are discarded by our families and forsaken by our government regardless of who sits on the throne. We’re good enough for manual labor or to fight their endless wars, but beyond those roles we’re unworthy. This changes everything. Within one generation, we can restore magic to the Rodyte people.”

  Well used to his brother’s passionate outbursts, Garin remained seated. “What do you propose we do? Fly the Undaunted to Ea
rth and demand that they turn over their females?”

  “Of course not.” Apparently Bandar had released enough of his ire to think again. “We could barter technology—”

  “For eight hundred thousand females?” Zilor shook his head, but his smile was wistful. “That’s how many we’d need. There are over a million battle born sons. Maybe half of those are still children, but you’re still talking five or six hundred thousand females. No society is going to willingly give up that many of their citizens.”

  “But there are over seven billion humans,” Bandar persisted. “Half a million would hardly be missed.”

  Garin shook his head, dismissing the subject outright. “A mass exit of the battle born would leave Rodymia defenseless. Even if we were welcomed with open arms by the humans, Quinton would have no choice but to pursue. I won’t be responsible for starting a war between Rodymia and Earth.” Bandar started to object, but Garin silenced him with an upraised hand. Instead he looked at Nazerel and asked, “If the equation only works with Rodyte/Bilarrian hybrids, how does this help the Shadow Assassins?”

  Nazerel sighed as Garin pointed him back toward his own moral dilemma. “It doesn’t. I’m faced with a difficult choice as well. We, the Shadow Assassins, can subtly blend with the population of Earth and live as humans or we can perfect Sevrin’s formula and transform our females into mates worthy of our seed. She hadn’t even begun on the Rodyte formula, but the Ontarian formula was basically finished.”

  “And that’s where I come in?” A calculative smile spread across Garin’s mouth without parting his lips. “You want my scientists to perfect the formula, but you’re worried that I won’t stop there.”

  “No, sir.” He used the title intentionally, making sure Garin understood that he was negotiation with General Nox not asking a favor of his cousin. “I trust you implicitly. I’m concerned that a secret this powerful would slip beyond your control regardless of the procedures you put in place to prevent it.”

  “We have two choices,” Garin said. “And both are dependent upon what Quinton already knows. If Sevrin kept him informed every step of the way, then it’s a race to the finish line. We lose nothing by participating in the competition and it will allow us some control over how the formula is used. However, if Quinton knows little or nothing, which is more likely, then we must ensure that it stays that way. Unfortunately, that requires that we leave the formula untouched and destroy all evidence of Sevrin’s research.”

  “I understand and I agree. Obviously, I’m horribly tempted by the possibility of transforming my mate into a being of power. But I’ve also seen where such ambitions lead. If Sevrin’s secrets followed her to the grave, I am more than willing to leave them there.”

  “But what about the genetic anomaly? We haven’t decided what to do about that.”

  Garin glared at Bandar as he pushed to his feet. “The decision has been made. You just don’t agree with it and I will not argue the point. You’re dismissed.”

  Bandar’s back straightened and he squared his shoulders, but his gaze remained defiant. “As you say, sir.” Without another word he rushed from the room.

  “At the risk of starting a fight.” Zilor paused for a quick smile. “I agree with Bandar. A mass exodus isn’t the answer, but we need to think about other ways to take advantage of this opportunity. Producing empowered daughters would prove beyond doubt that we are not expendable.”

  “I am not battle born, but the vast majority of this crew is. Anything that concerns this crew concerns me. I’ve just begun to analyze the possibilities. This thing is far from over.”

  Zilor shook his head as his smile broadened. “And you couldn’t say that to Bandar?”

  “Bandar was arguing with me. He knows better.”

  “Everyone knows better than arguing with you.” Zilor stood and looked at Nazerel. “Do you need help with Morgan? Taming the wild ones is my specialty.”

  “In your dreams,” Nazerel shot back.

  “Very likely.” Zilor chuckled and headed for the door.” Enjoy yourself.”

  After Zilor left, Garin shifted his chair toward Nazerel. “This is quite a tangle you’ve brought to my door.”

  “I know, but there is no one else in the universe I trust with something this important. As Bandar said, this could change everything for the battle born. They have been taken for granted for far too long.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to defuse the situation with Overlord Lyrik. I don’t know him well, but we’ve interacted a time or two.” Garin crossed his legs and leaned into the back of his chair, looking more relaxed than he had all evening.

  “I appreciate any assistance you can give me. As you said, I’ve dug quite a hole for myself.”

  “But I put the shovel in your hands. The overlord needs to understand that you were acting on my behest and your actions were sanctioned by the crown.”

  Nazerel didn’t argue. Garin had technically dispatched him to Earth, but Nazerel had been desperate for any excuse to escape the City of Tears. “They’ll demand some form of retribution and I’m prepared to pay. Still, they need to understand that Varrik is one voice among many, yet his was the only one they heard.”

  “Then you’re going to turn yourself in?” Garin didn’t sound pleased by the idea.

  “I can’t improve the situation for my people unless I take responsibility for the choices I made. There is no future for them on Ontariese. Not only are they feared and reviled, but there aren’t enough females for the Ontarian males. My men have no hope of claiming mates. They must be given other options.”

  “Speaking of claiming mates.” A lazy smile finally parted Garin’s lips and he picked up his nearly empty glass of g’haut. “What is Morgan’s story? I know she’s your prisoner, but her feelings for you are not entirely hostile.” Garin had never admitted that he was empathic, at least not to Nazerel. Still, what the general sensed about others was often too specific, and too accurate, to have been conjecture.

  “Morgan led the raid on my team, though I didn’t know who she was when I grabbed her. I only intended to use her long enough to escape, but things got complicated fast.”

  Amusement lightened Garin’s tone as he said, “No doubt. I know you don’t want my advice, but I’m going to give it to you anyway. She’s obviously proud and she’s used to authority. A woman like that isn’t going to allow herself to surrender to an enemy. Ignore everything she says, or better yet gag her, and then scan her emotions. Emotions don’t lie. If she feels nothing but fear and anger, I’ll help you protect her. But if she desires you, as I suspect, claim her tonight. She will be much safer if your scent is all over her.”

  Nazerel knew Garin meant well, but he found the advice insulting. He would never force himself on an unwilling female for any reason, so the option was unnecessary. As for seducing Morgan, he already knew she desired him. He also knew she was worlds away from admitting the fact even to herself, so tonight was going to require serious creativity. “If she remains unclaimed by morning, I will accept your assistance. But I haven’t given up hope for tonight.”

  * * * * *

  Morgan paced Nazerel’s cabin, her bare feet soundless despite her agitation. He’d been gone at least an hour, likely closer to two. But time was hard to gage in her current state of mind. Nazerel was with the Nox brothers right now, planning the invasion of Earth. She’d frequently thought information on the Shadow Assassins had to be exaggerated. How could such barbaric attitudes still exist in this modern age? Then she’d met a few Rodytes.

  If you don’t take care of this problem, I will give her to someone strong enough to tame her. The general’s hateful ultimatum still echoed through her mind. If Garin had only said it to rile her, then he was the best actor she’d ever encountered. No, he’d been deadly serious about what he expected from Nazerel. What he expected from her.

  She’d never been this angry and had never had so little control over her circumstances. Regardless of how furious Nazerel made her
, she was utterly dependent on him, which scared the hell out of her. All of her skills and training meant nothing on an alien spaceship filled with sex-starved males.

  “Shit!” she cried, unable to suppress her frustration. She needed to focus, to decide on her next move. Yet screaming and smashing every object in the room was much more appealing. None of it would do any good, of course. But it might make her feel better. She was trapped and helpless. She couldn’t even take off this ridiculous dress. None of the cabinets would open without the proper voice command so she had nothing else to put on.

  She couldn’t believe how gullible she’d been. Nazerel’s unexpected charm and superficial sincerity had convinced her he wasn’t the villain she’d originally believed. Then they’d arrived on the Undaunted and she’d seen behind his mask. He was every bit as ruthless as everyone claimed. Not only had he given Sevrin’s research to a man with the resources to continue her work, but he’d probably told the Rodytes about the genetic anomaly.

  Pausing for a moment, she felt a spark of hope flicker in the back of her mind. All Nazerel had said was he had an alternative that was safer and more dependable than the transformation formula. Was it possible Nazerel didn’t know about the genetic anomaly?

  But Flynn knew, which meant Nazerel likely knew. She sighed. Flynn was a double-dealing jerk who’d played each side against the other. His only true allegiance was to himself.

  The door hissed then slid open and Nazerel walked in, dangerously handsome and composed. He carried a metallic decanter and two glasses. Were they going to toast the subjugation of Earth or just the mass kidnapping of human females?

  “If you were waiting for me to calm down, you need to come back,” she warned him. “I’m still pissed.”

  Pausing near the door until the portal closed behind him, he then crossed to the table near the kitchenette and set down the glasses and the decanter. “I understand why you’re angry, but you don’t have all the facts.”