“No,” a familiar voice said.
I looked up, thinking Nev had somehow responded to my thoughts, but he and Devrak were still bickering quietly. I’d heard his voice, though.
Only in my head, even though it had seemed spoken in my ear. Maybe I wasn’t weak, just crazy.
“We should be fine,” Devrak said with a decisive air, “as long as we don’t get caught.”
That was when I saw the approaching ships out the viewport, and the alerts on my feeds. A pair of starfighters on patrol. Except they weren’t flying in standard patrol formation; they were headed straight for us.
“Um,” I said.
“Hm, yes,” Basra said. “You know that worst-case scenario I was trying to plan for, and that our man Devrak was simply hoping to avoid? That might have just arrived.”
“Maybe they only want to say hi?” Telu suggested halfheartedly.
Our comms beeped. “Transmit your registration and your itinerary,” a hard voice said.
“It should pass inspection,” I muttered. “Send it, Telu.”
And then we waited. I had to resist tapping my fingers nervously on the dash. Next to me, Nev’s jaw was tight.
“Please proceed to containment bay twenty-one,” the voice rejoined. “We’re going to conduct a routine search of your cargo.”
I cursed. Our cargo, this time, was not stolen goods, but a load of Shadow for use in emergencies. That, combined with our stowed fishing net and our general appearances, might be enough to tell them where we were from, and whom we were carrying. Especially with Marsius on board.
“Unifier’s sake,” Nev said. “I can disguise myself, but I don’t know what the drugs will do to someone Marsius’s size—they’re calibrated for me.” He glared at Arjan.
“If they search us thoroughly,” Basra said, “they’ll probably take a biometric reading anyway.”
Much like masking a ship’s signal, biometric scramblers worked only when one wasn’t staring right at the person in question and wondering why they couldn’t get a clear reading.
“Both of you need to hide,” Devrak said. Meaning, of course, the two royals.
Nev threw down his hands. “I didn’t come here to hide! Best-case scenario, this holds us up and aborts the mission.”
“It’s still better than it could be.”
Another comm beeped. “Uh,” Telu said, “this one is scrambled.”
Maybe it was from one of the generals, and they had a plan. “Open it,” I said.
A rich, agreeable voice filtered into the Kaitan. “Why, hello. At least one of you might recognize me. A pleasure to speak with you again, Nevarian.”
Nev let loose a fluid stream of curses that even made Telu raise an eyebrow.
“Who is this scat-bag?” she demanded.
“That scat-bag,” Devrak said flatly, “is King Makar Treznor-Nirmana.”
For a few seconds, we all stared at Devrak. Then Arjan burst out laughing. I stared at him not doubting just my own sanity, for once.
“Arjan?”
He could hardly get out a word and waved a hand in my direction. “It’s just…too perfect,” he gasped. “How do things like this always happen to us?” He struggled to swallow his laughter. “Well, I know how,” he added, wiping a tear from his eye. Then he gave an acknowledging nod at Nev.
“Speak for yourself,” Nev snapped.
“It could be a bluff,” Telu said, ignoring them both. Basra shook his head, but she went on. “How could he know for sure that Nev is on board, and isn’t the guy, what, totally powerless right now and under house arrest, or something?”
Nev and Devrak shook their heads. “If Makar is moving this boldly, he knows Nev is on board, and he is a far cry from powerless,” Devrak said.
They both looked worriedly at Marsius, who flushed and looked down at his toes. “I just wanted to help,” he whispered.
Nev closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then stepped up to the comm. “Hello, Makar. A pleasure, I’m sure.”
“Yes, so good to hear your voice,” Makar responded warmly. “If only everyone knew you were here, we could give you the proper welcome you deserve.”
Nev’s response was tight. “I’m fine with minimal fanfare.”
“I thought you might be, which is why I’ll give you a choice. Either transmit this clearance code to those starfighters and then land at these coordinates to my country villa”—the information appeared over an encrypted feed—“or else I’ll let them know to have a nice hot cup of tàs waiting for the new Dracorte king upon his arrival…oh, and to properly welcome the other guests in those two shuttles that are waiting at the construction docks.” There was a pause. “It will be so lovely to meet as equals.”
Like Makar, none of us imagined we had much of a choice.
* * *
Makar’s “country villa” was in fact a sprawling compound of glass, steel, stone, and dark woods, many-winged and tiered, some levels looking almost like they hovered in midair through a trick of the architecture. I set the Kaitan down on the inside of a towering black wall that surrounded the place, holding back a leafy jungle.
The planet, where it wasn’t built up with towering, glossy cities, was in fact covered with green, we’d realized, once we made it beyond all the orbital interference and into the atmosphere, where we could see the surface unobstructed. I’d pictured Valtai more like Aaltos for some reason, craggy and severe, but vines stubbornly clung anywhere they could manage, even to steel and glass.
The humid air hit me like a wet towel when I stepped out. Not far behind it, the heat was another slap in the face. I started sweating almost immediately under my coat.
“Ancestors,” Arjan wheezed, tugging at his own jacket to let in a nonexistent breeze. “How does anyone live here? You can’t breathe.”
“It’s like a sweaty little fat man is sitting on my chest,” Telu added, a hand over her heart. Both Devrak and Nev cast her looks, seeming mostly unbothered by the heat themselves, but she only shrugged. “Hey, that’s what it feels like.”
“Is it an experience you’re familiar with?” Arjan snarked.
Basra, having been born in the heat of Nirmana, the royal desert planet, was totally unaffected. In fact, he strode down the ramp without waiting. “Let’s meet yet another king, shall we? You’d think it would get old by now.” He said it like it was very much getting old.
A servant came out to greet us and take our jackets. Basra only tossed his in the servant’s general direction and strode right into one of the villa’s several sets of glass double doors.
A man stood in the shining, sleek foyer, his dark hair thick and wavy, his suit white against warm brown skin. He looked to be in his forties, but he was probably older, knowing royals. Whatever his age, he was strikingly handsome. Sensual lips curved into a smile, but before he could open his mouth, Basra spoke.
“I’m Hersius Kartolus the Thirteenth.” He pulled up a loose sleeve and his glowing holographic tattoo sprang into the air above his extended forearm, showing a blue-and-black closed-end double helix with exactly thirteen spirals—his unique form of identification. It marked him as one of the richest individuals in the systems. “I’m not in the mood for pleasantries, so let’s get right to it.”
“Ah, so you’re the latest Hersius,” Makar said, unruffled.
Telu folded her arms and eyed Makar. “And you’re the scat-bag.”
Devrak coughed into his fist.
Makar’s perfectly manicured black brows shot up. “Well, I think I like you.”
Telu looked taken aback by that, but the king had already turned to the rest of our group. “These must be the other Alaxans,” he said, his eyes sweeping over Arjan and me to rest on Nev. “Along with King Nevarian Dracorte, Devrak Hansen, and…oh my, is that Prince Marsius? How you’ve grown!”
Marsius stepped out from behind Nev, trying not to look like he was hiding and only halfway succeeding. He bowed properly. “Hello, King Makar, I’m pleased to see you again.”
“I’m sure.” Makar clapped his hands. “Refreshments? A moment to primp?”
“We didn’t come here to have our nails done,” Basra said. His words had the desired effect. Makar glanced at his hands, and, indeed, Basra’s nails were a nice shade of metallic purple.
Makar weathered it without comment, or even another raised eyebrow.
“Right this way, then.” He gestured to another pair of doors.
We made our way into a sitting room filled with black chairs that didn’t look like chairs, or anything that could be sat upon at all, so half of us remained standing. Makar took a seat, as did Basra, Nev, and Marsius. Maybe they were used to such furniture. Devrak looked too wary to sit, rather than unsure of how to go about it.
“Let’s get right down to it, at your request,” Makar began without preamble, “since I know someone else who just can’t wait, either.”
“What do you mean?” Nev asked.
“Let me start over. I know why you’re here. You want to sabotage Solara’s fleet that my family has been so industriously building for her. I was for your plan, since it would weaken your sister, put her more in our debt at the same time, and, quite simply, vex her, which would please me above all.”
“So why all of this?” Nev gestured around.
“Because Solara is here.”
“What?” Half of those sitting were standing again—Nev and Marsius behind him. Only Makar and Basra remained seated, the latter regarding the other levelly over folded hands.
“I don’t mean here, in this house.” Makar raised an infopad, and what it showed on a vid feed nearly made my heart stop.
It was a fleet, in space. A massive fleet. An armada. At least ten battle carriers, too many destroyers to count, and no doubt hundreds of invisible starfighters. And it was looming, in real time, just outside the range of Valtai’s planetary defenses.
“The First Dracorte Fleet,” Nev murmured, stunned.
“She has come to collect her new fleet ahead of schedule,” Makar said, his tone casual, as if she’d arrived early for dinner. “And it appears she brought reinforcements. A number just shy of what my family would perceive as an open declaration of war.”
“How…,” Nev began, then swallowed. “How did she know we were here?”
“She doesn’t, not for sure, but she suspects. Smart girl that she is, she wouldn’t wait around on a hunch like that.”
“Wait, how did you even know we were here?”
“Half of the Treznor-Nirmana spy network is still mine.” He smiled. “The better half. Besides, ever since one of my destroyers encountered the good ship Kaitan Heritage back when you were only a prince, I’ve been on the lookout for it. It’s quite the unique ship, you know. Also, I recorded her biometric signal during that little encounter.” He pointed at me. “Do you think the rest of us simply forgot about her after the implosion within the Dracorte family?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. The ground felt unsteady beneath my feet. I wasn’t quite sure what was going on here, so I figured it was better that I stay quiet.
“What do you want?” Nev said, his voice low after glancing at me.
“I still want to help you. The only possible course of action for you now, since you can’t very well blow up the fleet anymore without igniting open war between your family and mine, is to take the fleet and this fight elsewhere, with us as your new business partners.”
Devrak spoke slowly. “Treznor-Nirmana would ally with Nevarian?”
“Well, I would ally with you, and the rest of my family would be forced to stand behind me with a fleet like that at your disposal, and thus reinstate me to full power. It would be too messy and embarrassing, otherwise.” He hesitated. “We won’t go to war for you, but our financial and political backing should be enough to give Solara pause and to stop this silly tussle between the two of you.”
“Helping you reinstate yourself should be enough to recompense you for your help,” Basra said behind his hands. “But it’s not.”
Makar nodded. “Too right. Giving a fleet to you, without payment—ships that could later fire upon erstwhile allies, if they felt like it—would be foolish. I would need something stronger to bind you to me, first.”
“You want a trade agreement, no doubt,” Basra said. “You want access to Shadow, through Nev’s alliance with Alaxak.”
I gritted my teeth as Makar nodded again.
“But…even a trade agreement isn’t quite enough,” Basra continued, reading something in his face.
“You could go back on your agreement with a stronger fleet,” Makar said, shrugging in a show of justified concern. “Allowing you to thwart Solara is one thing, since she has irritated me so. Allowing you to beat her, take the throne from her, and reunite your divided family, is quite another.”
Of course, the Dracortes had been in competition with Treznor-Nirmana for a very long time. It didn’t matter that Nev was fighting against Solara, Makar’s personal enemy. Nev was still a Dracorte.
“What do you have in mind?” Nev ground out.
“The girl stays with me.” He nodded in my direction, making me blink. “I know she’s valuable to you, and all the systems, with the power she can wield.” Of course he knew. His scientists had nearly cut me open on a table. “Once I’ve regained power, we’ve established a robust Shadow trade, and I’ve learned what I can from her, I’ll let her go.”
Nev’s voice was dead. “Absolutely not.”
Makar held up his hands. “Nothing untoward will be done to her, of course. All research will be painless.”
“No. And besides, she isn’t mine to give or take. I’ve granted Alaxak sovereignty, and she’s their interim leader.” Nev smiled without a hint of mirth. “That wouldn’t be a terribly diplomatic action on my part.”
Makar drummed his fingers on his knee and pursed his lips, which I suddenly didn’t find sensual at all, but repulsive. “That is a conundrum.” He didn’t sound bothered, and I realized why a second later. “I didn’t think you would agree anyway, so how about something else? If you won’t give me the girl, why not give me…yourself?”
Nev took a step back, nearly knocking into his chair. “What in the systems are you talking about?”
“Renounce the Dracorte name entirely, marry into my family, become a Treznor-Nirmana, and you will go debt-free and have all the ships to combat your sister that you want. Your generals and forces can go with Solara or stay with us; their choice.”
I’d barely heard anything after marry into my family. The words bounced around in my skull like a ricocheting photon blast, leaving me stunned. I’d known this was coming, but not this soon. And not in this way.
Nev regarded him for a long moment. Or maybe it only felt long because I was holding my breath. Everyone was. “The planetary subsystems I hold now will of course join the paired Treznor-Nirmana systems,” he guessed finally. Makar nodded. With that much offered to his family, even without the ships or troops they didn’t really need, the Treznor-Nirmana council would definitely be forced to return power to him. “Not all of them will follow me,” Nev insisted. “Some would resist.”
“And they’ll be caught between Solara’s army and ours. Of the three, I know who would win. Besides, they’re not my biggest priority.”
Nev exhaled. “Ah. You also want our Shadow refineries and research stations, and our exclusive trade rights with Alaxak.”
This was beyond a trade agreement. This was full access to Shadow. Makar gave another nod.
I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “We’re not trading with him,” I spat. “You can give away what’s yours, whether that’s the Shadow we trade with you or your own planets, if
you want. But you can’t give away what’s ours by right to grant.”
Nev threw a hand at me. “Qole, I don’t want to do this.”
Makar arched an eyebrow at me, waiting for my response—as if this were his evening’s entertainment.
I tried to ignore him, to keep my voice steady. “But you’re thinking about it.” I couldn’t help the next words to escape my lips. “How could you?”
I knew why: Solara’s ships in the sky. Our imminent capture and likely execution, or a suicidal last stand. The lives of his generals and subjects, hanging in the balance. Even if we somehow managed to escape and slip back to Aaltos with our forces, there was likely no way for Nev to win the civil war with Solara gaining possession of her new fleet. Fighting wasn’t always the answer, and Nev had proven he understood that, as a king. But that didn’t make it any easier to bear.
Makar sighed loudly. “Ah, lovers’ quarrel, hm? I guessed as much.” I rounded on him, but before I could get out a word, he said to me, “It’s not as if such relationships are rare, and of course you wouldn’t have to worry about any competition in that sense from my daughter. After all, she’s only twelve and not to come of age for quite a few years yet. By then”—Makar shrugged—“who knows. Perhaps you’ll have tired of him.” He tossed his head at Nev.
“She’s twelve?” I said, just as Nev said, “Your daughter?”
We both found different things about the proposal surprising. But then, it was fairly common in Nev’s world to be promised to someone at such a young age. Most royal marriages were arranged—his own, with his cousin Ketrana, had been arranged by his parents when they were around that age. Then again, they’d both been that old, not one of them nineteen.
Nev was far more concerned about who she was. “You have a daughter? How does no one in all the systems know this?”
“I’m eccentric, remember? I like to keep secrets. I also like for my heir to not be assassinated before she can speak.” His expression wasn’t amused, even if his tone was. “We live in dangerous times, as you well know: your parents, now Belarius the Elder, and the attempts on your own life…”
Shadow Call Page 25
