“I should demote you,” Visola mused.
Major Mardöll placed a hand on Visola’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’m relieved about this, General Ramaris. All of our battle plans were flimsy at best.”
“I know,” Visola said weakly, as she stared after her husband’s retreating form. “I just don’t know how not to fight.”
Meanwhile, Vachlan was tugging his victim roughly through the frozen halls of Upper Adlivun.
“Mother fucker!” the woman shrieked. “I didn’t agree to you pulling on my hair and roughing me up!”
“It had to be convincing, Sarah,” Vachlan said apologetically. He released the white-haired woman and fished into his pocket to retrieve money from his wallet. “Here is the amount we agreed upon. I trust that will be enough?”
Sarah stared at the money with wide eyes, and ripped it from his hands a little too greedily. “Yes, yes. That’s perfect. Thank you so much!” She looked up at him with a wicked smile, placing a hand on his chest suggestively. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”
Vachlan raised an eyebrow incredulously. “I wouldn’t mind taking greater advantage of your services, but have you met my wife?”
“Oh,” she said in disappointment. “You mean the woman who just nearly decapitated me?”
“No, I mean the one who nearly decapitated you and fed your remains to a school of hungry barracuda.”
Sarah gulped. “That’s really not how I pictured spending my weekend.”
“You’d better get going,” Vachlan advised seriously. “Don’t show your face anywhere near Adlivun again; if Visola sees you, I can’t be held responsible for what she will do to you.”
“Understood, sir. I’m already gone.”
Chapter 14: The People’s Queen
Vachlan was whistling. He often liked to hum an upbeat tune when things went his way so smoothly. He was rather accustomed to getting his way, but he had accepted long ago that the path to getting it would not always be smooth. Feeling unusually chipper, he was compelled by the strange urge to tip his hat to the guards posted at every corner of Upper Adlivun. It was only when his hand was lifted halfway to his head did he realize that it was the twenty-first century, and gentlemen were no longer required to wear hats. It was hard to keep up with the ever-changing rules of etiquette, but he tried his best. He gave mild nods to the guards instead.
Turning a corner, he lifted his hands to arrange his collar smugly. As a patient man and seasoned mercenary, Vachlan held the personal belief that massive wars were not won in a single, all-out strike, but in a series of small but decisive triumphs. He had learned long ago to appreciate and celebrate the little triumphs along the way, and successfully influencing Visola to do anything, or more accurately, to not do anything, certainly felt like a triumph. Reaching out to swiftly turn a doorknob encased in a heavy panel of ice, he pushed his way into his bedroom.
He was startled when he saw a woman kneeling on his thick Persian rug. Her back was turned, but he immediately identified her from the long, straight black hair flowing down her back as the Princess Yamako. What caused him to frown was that she had managed to locate and open his personal safe. There was no money in that safe; that was where he kept the items far more precious than money.
“Yama?” he questioned angrily. “What are you doing?”
The woman on the carpet had been frozen since the turn of the doorknob. Her hands were holding a piece of paper tightly. “I—I just…” she whispered.
Vachlan’s eyes narrowed when he did not perceive a Japanese accent in her voice. He reached down to his belt and withdrew a handgun swiftly, aiming it at the back of the woman’s head.
“State your name and purpose, intruder. You have three seconds before I kill you.”
His first thought was that she could be an assassin sent by the Clan of Zalcan. His second thought was a feeling of utter rage that she had violated his personal belongings. The letter she was reading was the only thing he had ever received from his daughter. It was the message of farewell and apology that she had penned on her deathbed.
“Drop that letter,” Vachlan hissed. “Put it down or I’ll shoot!”
The woman obediently returned the letter to his small safe, lifting her hands in surrender. Vachlan frowned when he saw her fair, slender fingers. If not for her voice, he would have truly believed she was Princess Yamako. The resemblance from behind was the only thing causing him to refrain from shooting her.
“Turn around,” he commanded. “Slowly. How did you get past the guards?”
She did not obey his demand, nor did she respond directly to his question. Instead, she lowered her chin. “Have you actually read this letter, Vachlan?” the woman said in a voice that was strangely familiar and rather choked up.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” he answered. “Turn around!”
When the woman bolted for the window, Vachlan had been expecting this. He adjusted his aim and fired a bullet at her, imagining that it would slow her down. What he did not anticipate was the woman swiveling and crossing her arms above her head face so swiftly that she was able to block and absorb the impact of the bullets. There must have been Kevlar gauntlets covering her arms beneath her sleeves.
“Stop it, Vachlan,” she said softly, moving toward him.
He lowered his gun and pulled the trigger, shooting her instead in the abdomen. The woman paused for a second, wincing, and Vachlan expected her to fall over. Instead, she rushed forward at him, slamming the heel of her palm into his wrist and twisting the gun out of his hand. He frowned, reflexively grabbing her around the throat and wrapping a leg around hers to wrestle her to the ground. She sent his gun sliding across the room to his safe as he forced her cheek against the ground. He was surprised when she easily pushed herself off the ground, snaking her body away from his grip. She was not only fast, flexible, and wearing bulletproof body armor, but she was quite strong.
Of course, he was stronger. Diving after her and pressing his body over hers to keep her to the ground, he pulled a knife from the back of his pants and pressed it against her neck.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“I doubt that a man like you remembers all the women from his past.” She slipped her hand under his knife and managed to push it away from her skin by an inch. It was all she needed to rotate her body enough to force her elbow back into his nose. In his moment of surprise she grabbed the hand of his that was holding the knife and turned it away from her, slipping out of his grasp and darting for the door. Before she could even lift herself off the ground, she felt him grabbing her cloak and ripping her back down with him.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said with a laugh as he restrained her. “Who are you?”
“It’s just like you to shoot first and ask questions later!” she retorted. She struggled, but this time, he had her pinned so perfectly that there was no escape.
“You’re kind of pretty,” he remarked. “I’d invite you to have a threesome with me and my wife, but she prefers not to share me.”
The woman grunted in disgust as she tried desperately to free herself.
“Visola isn’t into that sort of thing,” Vachlan admitted with disappointment. “She acts like she’s all sexually-adventurous publicly, but she’s really not. She’s actually quite vanilla. You’d be surprised.”
“Will you be quiet!” the woman spat as she forced her knee upward into Vachlan’s groin.
He caught her strike between his thighs. “Sorry, I prefer not to have my balls smashed today. You didn’t let me finish, but my point was going to be that I have no use for you whatsoever. You’re obviously a lowly peasant who snuck out of Lower Adlivun, so I’m going to kill you and have someone else clean up the mess.” Vachlan quickly grabbed his gun, which was just barely within reach. He pressed it under the woman’s shirt with a smile. “I’m going to shoot you in the collarbone. Just a little warning—it’s going to hurt like a mother. Please try to stay conscious
so you can tell me what it feels like. You see, I’m writing this action series for TV, and I need to know what it feels like to get shot precisely. In this. Spot.” He buried the gun deeper into her skin to punctuate his words.
The woman shivered, and not because of the coldness of the metal. Her head fell back to the ground helplessly. She hated this man at least half as much as she admired him. “Stop, Vachlan. It’s me.”
“Be sure to use lots of adjectives,” he was saying thoughtfully. He suddenly frowned. “You, who?”
“These are contact lenses,” she said with a sigh. “A prosthetic nose and makeup.”
“Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” he told her. Using the hand without the gun to grab the side of her head, he pressed his thumb against her iris and slid the plastic cover aside. He was startled by the intensity of blue that was visible through the hole in the black lens.
He froze as recognition dawned on him. “Aazuria?”
She exhaled gratefully, remaining on the ground to calm her racing heart when the man rolled off her. Both of them rested for a moment, breathing deeply after the struggle. She blinked until her contact lens slid back into place.
“Wow,” Vachlan said, shaking his head in disbelief at the circumstance. “Color me mistaken. You happen to be the only woman Visola would happily agree to have a threesome with.”
“Perhaps,” Aazuria mumbled, rubbing her sore collarbone.
“She would probably even kick me out of the room,” Vachlan mused, stroking his chin.
Aazuria groaned, rolling up her sleeves to pull her gauntlets off. She gently checked the damage to her arm. The skin had not been broken, but there was a large bruise where the bullet had hit her. “That’s the second time I’ve been shot since I got home,” she said in disbelief. “If I was still queen, I’d do something about the gun laws.”
“Sorry,” Vachlan said, lifting himself to his feet. He offered Aazuria a hand, and she accepted it grudgingly. “Do you know I searched the whole globe for you intensively for over five years? Where the hell were you?”
“Antarctica.”
“Damn,” he said, blinking. “I knew I missed a spot.”
“It was a pretty big spot to miss,” she said in a weary voice.
“Well, Sedna screw me sideways! It was pretty much the only place we didn’t search. Look, Aazuria… Queen Aazuria.” Finally remembering his manners, Vachlan fell to one knee and saluted across his chest. He cleared his throat, bowing his head respectfully. “Forgive me for…”
“Relax,” she said quietly. “Stop that. What’s done is done.”
He nodded, swallowing. In a burst of anger he slammed his fist into the Persian rug, surely causing the ice beneath it to slightly crack. “Oh, fuck. This changes everything. I have a shitload of things to tell you.” He stared up at her regretfully. “How long have you been back? Do you know about Trevain and…”
“Yes. I’ve been back for about six months.”
“Six months!” he repeated in shock. “Why didn’t you come to us?”
“Because of my sister,” she answered, inclining her head to the side. “Get up, Vachlan.”
The man sheepishly pulled himself off the ground. Guilt was written all over his tanned features. “Okay, I’m just going to say this and get it over with. Not even five minutes ago, I conducted an elaborate ploy to convince my wife that you were not alive. I wasn’t sure whether you were, but I couldn’t afford to let her have such ideas. Visola is pregnant. If she knows you’re alive, she’s going to lead an impossible war. She’s going to lose and get herself killed—along with a whole bunch of other people. I don’t really care so much about the other people. ”
“Pregnant,” Aazuria said gently. “How wonderful for you.”
“It is… rather wonderful,” Vachlan admitted. “She doesn’t even know yet.”
“Do not worry about me unraveling your scheme,” Aazuria responded. “I do not wish for anyone to know of my presence. I will not unsettle Elandria’s life. I only have one request to ask of you.”
“Sionna knows,” Vachlan suddenly realized.
“How?”
Vachlan reached out to touch the bruises on the side of Aazuria’s jaw. “Be careful who you allow to scrape off your skin.”
“She could determine my identity from scratching me?” Aazuria asked.
“Yes, but she hasn’t told anyone. What a strange woman! I wonder what she’s up to.” Vachlan paused in thought. “Hey! When the hell did you learn to fight?”
“I had ten years to learn to defend myself,” Aazuria responded. “Now, before Visola returns to this room, I need to discuss some important matters with you. Will you do me a favor, Vachlan Suchos?”
“I am yours to command, my queen,” he responded instantly.
She reached out to touch his arm gratefully. “It is my daughter. I need you to maneuver her into the palace, to live in the care of Trevain and Elandria while I deal with the Clan of Zalcan.”
“You gave birth to your child in captivity?” he asked in surprise. “I always thought that if you managed to survive, you would have lost the baby…”
She nodded imperceptibly, unable to respond for a moment. Her eyes lowered at the painful memories. “Varia is eight.”
“Zuri,” Vachlan said quietly. He stared at her, trying to imagine what she had been through, and abruptly swallowed his saliva. From his experience on the delivering end, he knew what captives of Emperor Zalcan’s army suffered. “I will do all you require of me and more. I understand that you might be thirsting for vengeance right now—trust me, I know the feeling—but it is unwise to go after the Clan. You cannot single-handedly make a dent in their forces.”
Aazuria carefully scrutinized Vachlan’s face before allowing a slow, sadistic smile to spread across hers. “I believe that I may change your mind yet. I would like to ask that you carefully examine Alcyone’s letter, Vachlan.”
“I—I can’t really look at that thing,” he admitted with a frown. “It’s tough for me.”
“Has Visola seen that letter? Has anyone else read it?” Aazuria demanded, moving to retrieve the paper.
“No,” Vachlan said, narrowing his eyes. “I kept it tucked away in that safe. It’s the only piece of communication I received from my daughter in her entire lifetime. She died of a natural illness shortly after you were abducted; she died without ever speaking a single word to me. So, I’m sure you can understand why I wanted to kill you when I saw that you had your hands all over it.”
“I apologize for being the bearer of bad news,” Aazuria said as she handed the message to him, “but this is not a letter of forgiveness. This is a ridiculously simple coded message.”
“What?”
“Please. My eight year old daughter could figure this out.”
Taking the piece of paper curiously, Vachlan looked at the words. Although it was taxing, he tried to cast aside his guilt and sorrow to study the message objectively.
Vachlan,
Please forgive me for the callous way I have treated you. Of course, you and Mother were correct that I should have forgiven you and spoken to you while I had the chance. I am writing this letter because I believe I don’t have very much time left. So many years passed without you being a part of my life, and my one regret as I lie on my deathbed is that I never got to know you when I had the chance. Or spent a single minute looking at you. Never even touched you or gave you a hug. Even if I was upset, I really should have pushed my pride aside and shown you some kindness. Death is frightening, and it quickly makes you realize the error of your ways when the end is so near.
But I am hoping this letter reaches you in good spirits, and I hope you will take care of Mother. You have plenty of time ahead of you to make up for all the time you have lost.
Leave behind all your fears and doubts and just trust that everything will work out. Adlivun has welcomed you back, and I hope you will grow to love my home as much as I did. Never forget that my mother loves you dearl
y. Don’t take her for granted or take advantage of her. Only you can fix the mess that is our family, or lack thereof. Until we meet again.
Alcyone Ramaris
After a minute, he cleared his throat. “I don’t get it, Aazuria. You’re going to have to spoon-feed me here.”
She looked at him with surprise. “The first letter of every sentence. Read it again.”
Nodding, the perplexed man studied the letter once more. He swallowed back his self-pity and scanned the letter for the encryption. When it dawned on him, he abruptly folded the letter in half. “Dear God,” he whispered. He moved to the bed to sit down, lowering his forehead against his palm. His throat became very dry, and his voice was gruff. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice this…”
“She was Visola’s daughter. Obviously it was a concealed code.”
“I was blinded by emotion.”
Aazuria hesitated. “I know. I understand that, Vachlan. But we must move forward now and act upon this information. ‘Poisoned by Landou.’ Does that name mean anything to you?”
“Yes. That son of a bitch,” Vachlan said, shutting his eyes so tightly that they wrinkled. “I’m going to do the worst thing imaginable to him. No, even worse than that. God! How the hell did you know there was a code?”
“Because it doesn’t sound like Alcyone,” Aazuria answered awkwardly. “This letter is so sweet and loving, but Alcyone had an edge to her. Again, she was Visola’s daughter. If she had actually written you a goodbye letter, I imagine it would have sounded something like, ‘Dear Vachlan, If you hurt my mother I will come back from the dead and haunt you. Sincerely, Alcyone Ramaris.’”
“Well, that’s comforting,” he replied. “She never forgave me. It was all fake.”
Aazuria placed her hands on her hips and scowled. “It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know why she left this letter to you. Wouldn’t it have made more sense if she’d written it to Visola? But she probably imagined that Viso would be too distraught to catch the code. She probably thought you were cold and heartless enough to decipher it quite easily.”
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