Dragon's Promise (The Dragon Corps Book 5)

by Natalie Grey

  “You should eat that before I do. But, yes. We are.”

  “And the thing is…” Nyx grimaced and swallowed a mouthful of food. “We’re about to go and do the exact thing they were all worried about when the Major went after Soras.”

  “Good. They should be afraid of us.”

  Nyx considered and nodded. “At least the new Director is on board.”

  “I’m beginning to approve of that man.” Tersi sighed. “Are you going to check your messages?”

  “What?” Nyx looked up guiltily. The comm sat beside her on the table, its message light blinking at her.

  “You know you’re not going to get anything done until you do.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because you look at the damned thing every ten seconds.” Tersi waved his chopsticks. “Listen to the messages. Do it.”

  “If I listen, she’s only going to ask me to come back, and I’m going to do it, and nothing good will come of that.”

  “We could tie you to the mast.”

  “What?”

  “You know, like Odysseus? With the sirens? Never mind. Check your messages.”

  Nyx gave him a look, but even she wasn’t fool enough to deny her interest. Half of her time in her new cabin had been spent staring at the comm. She picked it up and slotted in the earpiece.

  Melissa. The voice was abrupt. I’m not going to stop researching this. This is my job. It would be dishonest not to pursue what I’m seeing. I’ve exposed a lot of schemes over the years and no one’s come for me yet. There was a pause, and then the voice grew quieter. Kiran’s dead. Whatever obligations you thought you had … well, they’re to Kiran. Not to me.

  The line cut, and Nyx swallowed, looking down. She could hear the hurt in Mala’s voice and felt a twist of guilt. She should never have brought Kiran up like she did. To her surprise, Mala had left another two messages sometime in the past hour or so. She pressed play on the second one, frowning.

  It’s Mala. I can’t stop thinking about last night. I want to … if you’re still on leave, I’d love to meet up. End things on a better note.

  Nyx’s heart twisted and she sank her head into her hands. This was the Mala she remembered, kind and desperate to be noticed, absolutely infuriating in her refusal to back down. Nyx had heard the moment where she considered apologizing but chose another word instead.

  And maybe Mala was right this time. She wasn’t eight years old anymore, with skinned knees and knobby elbows. She had been on Seneca for almost five years now. When Nyx first heard that Mala had taken a ship to Seneca, she had panicked. Mala had no advanced schooling, no money, and no contacts. But from sheer will, it seemed, she had built a life that included a truly impressive career. She lived in a safe part of town, and she hadn’t fallen for anyone unwise.

  Maybe it really was time for Nyx to let it go. Mala could take care of herself. Whether or not Nyx wanted to let it go, wanted to let this extraordinary woman slip through her fingers and back into the world, was irrelevant. She sighed, and brought up the third message.

  “Oh, my God.”

  “What is it?” Tersi, who had been determinedly looking away to afford the illusion of privacy, sat forward.

  “Oh, my God,” Nyx repeated. She spun the comm around, showing him the picture on the tiny screen: two hulking men at the doorway of Mala’s apartment. The security feed looped, showing Mala walking out the doorway with them. “Oh, my God.”

  “Why would someone go after her?” Tersi shook his head, his eyes faraway. His mind was already racing. “You said she works in Intelligence and she found something big. Maybe she—”

  “She was my source,” Nyx said brutally. She could not wait for him to put the pieces together. She sank her face into her hands. “That was what we fought about. Like I said, she wanted to go after them herself and I….”

  “What?” Tersi leaned forward.

  “I promised her brother I would protect her!” Nyx’s voice was raw. “I promised him. And I didn’t convince her and now … now … oh, God.”

  She felt the panic rising and shoved it away.

  Cold. She could be cold. She knew how to do this.

  “We need to get the security feeds from that building.” Her voice was steady. “Find out where they took her. String together as many cameras as it takes. Find out what kind of car they took. She only sent this … look, half an hour ago. There’s still time.”

  If they’d wanted to kill Mala, they could just have done that. She clung to the thought, blocking out all other possibilities. What Mala needed from her now was clear thought, not panic.

  “Got it.” Tersi nodded and shoved himself up, shaking slightly. He grimaced at his own weakness. “I’ll go get those feeds. Anyone else I should grab?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to call Lesedi.” An information broker on Akintola Station, Lesedi had been invaluable in any number of missions. “If anyone can figure out who took Mala, she can. Get back to me as soon as you can with a location, it’ll narrow her search.”

  “Got it.” Tersi stood, nodding. “And, boss?”

  “Yes?” Nyx paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder.

  “We’re going to get her back safe. They’ve showed their hand now. That’s a hundred more clues.”

  “No time for reassurances.” Nyx shook her head, and then felt a grim smile spread over her face. “Let’s go hunt down some smugglers.”

  10

  “So what’s all this about, then?” Mase Hernandez, leader of Dragon Team 8, came through the door to the library already frowning, and stopped short in surprise. “Cade Williams? Bring it in, man, I thought you quit.”

  “I did.” Cade went to clasp his hand. He saw the question in Mase’s eyes. “I’m not really back. Talon’s just a smooth-talking son of a bitch, that’s all.”

  There was a snort of amusement as Alina Kuznetsova came around the door. “So I hear.”

  She nodded to Cade, and Talon was struck again by just how small she was compared to the rest of them. He’d seen ample demonstrations of the fact that small did not mean harmless, but it was always funny to see her next to pretty much any other Dragon—although he never, ever admitted that he found her height amusing.

  He didn’t have a death wish.

  They all turned as Wraith slid into the room, and she gave them a nod.

  No one was smiling now. Mallory, Wraith’s commander in Team 11, had been both liked and respected. Like any commander, she was one of the best of the Corps, and her death had been a shock. Wraith had clearly taken it hard.

  “Bastard got her during sparring,” she said without preamble. “Had a gun hidden in the gym, shot her when he knew she wasn’t armed.”

  Alina went straight to the point. “Who was it?”

  “Deacon Jepson.” From the twist of Wraith’s mouth, it hurt even to say it. “We had just picked him up at Selection. She didn’t know any of his tells yet. And … no one else would have dared. He was young, real young.” And stupid enough to think he could fight his way off a ship full of Dragons, her tone said. She hesitated, looking down at the floor.

  “You make it hurt?” Alina asked. Her tone was carefully neutral, but Talon knew she was hoping to hear Wraith say yes.

  “Yes.” Wraith, however, took no satisfaction in it. “Didn’t bring Mallory back.”

  Talon’s jaw clenched. He forced himself to take a deep breath.

  “How many teams don’t we know about?” Alina switched tacks without missing a beat, and Talon knew she was drawing attention to herself so that Wraith could have a moment without anyone looking at her.

  Alina wasn’t touchy-feely, but she had a nice side … as long as you didn’t bring it up.

  Talon nodded at the dossiers he’d laid out on a side table. “At this point, we’re guessing we only have 5, 7, 18, and 22 left.”

  “That’s assuming there was only one traitor on each ship,” Cade added.

  “You had two,” Mase pointed out, l
ooking at Talon.

  Talon shrugged. “Mars and Camorra were sort of a package deal. I wouldn’t think anyone who voluntarily allied with Soras would just take the beating without ratting out their friend.”

  “That’s missing a possibility,” Kuznetsova pointed out. She was watching them from across the room, arms crossed, leaning against a bookshelf. “You’re thinking the people who allied with him were in it for money and power. A quick trip to the top, so to speak.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I think we’d be foolish to assume that there are no people supporting him—really supporting him. People who think the world was better when people knew their places. People who value … order.” She said it sardonically.

  “Who saw the palace on Ymir,” Talon said slowly, “and not the jails.” She was right. He hadn’t considered this.

  “Precisely.” She inclined her head. “People like that … Ymir wasn’t just an inspiration to them, something they could achieve if they were clever enough. It was a template for everything they wanted to achieve.” She looked up at them now, and her voice was flat. “And we’re the chaos standing in the way.”

  Tera nodded quietly. She had snuck over to the window to listen for curiosity’s sake, not to try to interfere. She didn’t need any particular details of their plans. She eased her way along the wall and under one of the artfully-natural looking bushes near the walkway. She jumped when she looked up and saw a pair of feet, and then stood up and brushed the sand off herself.

  “How long were you waiting?”

  “A while,” Aryn admitted without shame. “I didn’t think I could sneak back there quietly enough not to be heard. I just decided to wait for your report. What are they talking about?”

  “You were right,” Tera said, with a shrug. “They have three other team leaders in there—and Cade—and they’re talking about who might be traitors on the other Dragon teams.”

  Aryn swallowed. “The traitors will come for Talon.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Anyway, you’ll be safe.”

  “First of all, that’s not why I’m worried. Second, it’s not true at all.” Aryn gave a sigh.

  “Come on, let’s get you studying again.” Tera looped an arm around her shoulders and guided her back toward the shaded benches where Aryn had been working on practice exams. “I’ll make you a drink—that thing we had last night.”

  “Yes, please. That was delicious. Where did you get so good at mixing drinks, anyway?”

  “No idea. It’s a gift.” Tera hadn’t known about it, herself, until they arrived here and she had a fully stocked liquor cabinet to work with. Talon stuck with his scotch, but Cade and Aryn had been willing test subjects for a variety of drinks so far.

  Aryn folded herself back onto one of the lounge chairs as Tera crossed to the bar. It was, as if by magic, fully restocked. All of the tools were spotless.

  “Do you think we can talk Talon out of this?” Aryn asked. She watched Tera, shading her eyes with her hand. “Or … make it safer, or something?”

  Tera shot a grin over her shoulder. “You don’t know much about Dragons, do you?”

  “Cade’s not exactly a Dragon,” Aryn pointed out.

  “Mmm, but between the two of you, you about make one. He’s got the combat, and you’re ballsy as hell.” Tera started pouring. “What would you have said if he’d tried to stop you from doing what you did on Ymir—or tried to make it safer?” She looked up for long enough to raise an eyebrow. “Talon’s doing this because he doesn’t want all those loose ends working for any other Warlords. So to speak.”

  “Don’t suppose they all have a conscience and were just misled,” Aryn said hopefully. “I mean, like….” She looked meaningfully at Tera. Like you.

  “I’ll be honest with you: I don’t think the odds of that are very good.” Tera mixed the drinks with a rueful smile and carried them over.

  “That’s a shame.”

  “You’re telling me. I should probably take out one or two of them. I don’t think my father told many people I existed—and, without Julian, those people probably don’t know anything about the trial.” She looked up to see Aryn staring at her, somewhat queasily. “Does it bother you? Me talking about killing people like this?”

  Aryn considered. She looked down into her drink. “A little,” she said finally.

  “Really?” Tera curled her legs up and tilted her head to the side. “I mean, I get when a lot of people don’t like it. They’re sheltered, they haven’t seen how bad the world can be. But you grew up on Ymir. You were married to Pallas. You know the world is better without people like that.”

  Aryn shook her head and looked down at her drink, the bright pink suddenly incongruous with the conversation at hand. When she looked up again, her face was troubled. “It’s easy for you and Talon. You weigh it all out and see what needs to be done and you just do it. I’m not like that. I don’t know why. Sometimes I wish I was. Then I could forget….” She swallowed hard. “Ellian. Or at least not care as much. Not feel as guilty.”

  “He was going to kill you,” Tera said, uncomprehending. It had never even occurred to her that Aryn felt bad about what she’d done. “How could you feel guilty about defending yourself? You defended Cade.” Cade had told the story to Talon one night, and Talon, in turn, had told Tera: Ellian’s plan to replace the Warlord, the way he’d tested Aryn by hiring Cade, the way he’d decided to keep her captive not despite the face that she hated him, but because of it—because he liked having that power over her.

  And they’d seen the bruises Aryn came back with. Ellian had been a piece of shit in pretty much every way it was possible to be a piece of shit, and Aryn had killed him both in the immediate defense of Cade, and in the long-term defense of thousands of people, herself included.

  “I know it doesn’t make sense.” Aryn shrugged helplessly. “But I do feel bad about it. Almost all the time. Sometimes it all comes back to me and I think I’m going to be sick. I want to scream and scream and…claw my own skin off. I don’t know how to live with the fact that I did it, that I killed him.”

  Tera still didn’t understand, but she realized in a flash that she didn’t have to. What Aryn needed was to learn to live with this, and Tera could try to help her do that.

  “All right, look at it this way.” She uncurled her legs and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “You heard about the Dragon crews that went dark rather than help Talon, right?”

  Aryn nodded “I can’t imagine how you must feel about that,” she added.

  “It was smart,” Tera said brutally. “Here’s what you don’t get—they weren’t going dark because they were never going to do anything about it. They just thought he was charging in without knowing what he was doing. They were going dark while they figured out who in the Alliance wanted him assassinated, and how they should take that person out.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I know. You don’t think that way. It’s fine.” Tera shrugged. “But here’s where it comes back around to you. If Ellian made himself into a new Warlord, he was going to face Talon … or he was going to face all those other Dragons … or he was going to face me. Or, I suppose, all of us. He wasn’t going to make it through that alive. What you did wasn’t killing him. He was a dead man walking. You just helped it all along.”

  Aryn considered this. She took a sip of her drink, eyes distant as she thought.

  “Does that help?” Tera asked.

  “It helps,” Aryn said, still not looking back. It doesn’t make everything better, her tone said clearly. But it helps. She looked over finally, with a hint of a smile. “I never thought I’d say something like this, but I’m glad there are people in the world who can fight like you and Talon do. If it were up to people like me, we’d be in a pretty bad way.”

  Tera laughed and clinked her glass against Aryn’s. “You did what you had to when it was up to you. But I see what you mean. And, for what it’s wort
h?”

  Aryn, who had settled back in the lounge chair, looked over curiously. “Yeah?”

  “I think I’d like living on the Io. I’m not decided yet. But I think I’d like it. If the offer is still open, that is.”

  “Of course it is,” Aryn said. “Of course it is.”

  “Cade—”

  “Is in there right now trying to hunt down rogue Dragons. He can hardly object when I help you do the same.” At Tera’s surprised look, Aryn gave a shrug. “You said you should take some of them out, and you’re probably right. I can help with that. Maybe I shouldn’t be the one with the gun, but—” she patted her piloting manual “—I can get you where you need to go. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Tera said instantly. “And, uh, get studying, we may have to leave sooner rather than later.”

  Aryn laughed, but she picked the book up immediately and kept working.

  11

  She was going to die. In the recesses of the ship, Mala wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to cry so loudly that the bodyguards would hear her. Her pride, she sensed, was the one thing she had left. She was going to die, and the only option she had was to face her death with dignity and grace. Unfortunately, while that was the sort of thing that was very inspiring in historical stories, it was beginning to seem like an absolutely useless piece of non-resistance in the present.

  In any case, with tears threatening in her eyes, Mala didn’t think it was very likely that she was going to make a dignified end. So the point was moot. She tipped her head back against one of the wood-paneled walls and closed her eyes. It seemed like even more of a cruelty that they were bringing her to her execution in one of the most luxurious ships she’d ever seen, instead of in a miserable little holding cell.

  “Ma’am.” One of the bodyguards appeared in the doorway.

  “Yes?” She did not look over.

  “We’ll be landing shortly. You should strap yourself in.”

  It was only adding insult to injury that she was observing safety procedures before her execution. Mala turned her head away pointedly as she buckled the straps around herself. As the ship shuddered through the atmosphere of God only knew what planet, she wrapped her fingers around her knees and refused to speculate on what she was going to find. It didn’t matter, did it? The end was the same. She’d gone after someone, and now they were taking revenge; whoever it was, it was only variations on a theme.