by Bella James
"Thanks. Just looking." And wishing. In Pastoreum she had sometimes spent the few coins she collected to buy such beautiful papers and write stories and keep journals. Here she had all the money she could desire at her disposal – the Plutarch was generous (or more likely didn't care) and opened his treasury to her – but she didn't dare purchase anything.
She felt almost as sulky as Pip had been that first night when told she didn't have all the bad luck but had to share.
Truth was Livy was growing restless. If something didn't happen soon she'd call a giant scorpion and beg it to take her and Pippa into the desert, back to the rebels.
Right. Because Pip would ever willingly climb on such a creature. Just the thought made Livy smile. Taking a last, longing look at the paper, she started toward the flaps of the tent without looking where she was going, and found herself bumping into someone directly.
"I'm sorry," she started, and heard her name hissed into her ear. Startled, Livy looked up. "Julia?" But she only mouthed it.
Her friend hugged her, fast, and said, "Come with me. We have to talk."
"How?" Livy asked, letting the one word carry all of it – her sister, her duenna, her guard.
"This way." Julia was taller now, her hair cropped, complexion darkened, but it definitely was Julia. She winked at Livy, nodded at the stall man, and led the way through the back of the tent. Which led directly into another tent. Which led directly into a third tent. Which led to a trap door set near a wall of a pleasure palace, just barely out of the street. The door opened to well tended stairs leading down into not darkness but the flickering light of lanterns.
Livy didn't even hesitate. She plunged down them and instantly wondered what to do about the explosive ID chip that meant the Plutarch's guard could follow her anywhere. "Wait, I have to – "
The metal sleeve slapped down over her wrist, an arm guard extending up just on the inside toward her elbow, and another just covering the pad of her thumb. A better design, she thought, and looked up to see who had done it.
While she hoped to see Arash, instead she saw Tia, who had watched Livy after the rebels first took her, both guide and jailer. Even she seemed like a breath of air from home.
Livy laughed at herself. The desert wasn't home.
The next instant, Tia was gone and Julia stood beside her, dragging Livy into a big, awkward hug.
"What are you doing here?" Livy squeaked, pulling back and looking hard at Julia. Her friend had been changed completely, from the long dark braid that used to hang down her back and the dark eyes, to lighter eyes through some rebel technology Livy couldn't fathom and white blond hair cut short. She was heavier than she'd been, healthy and well muscled and looked nothing like the girl who'd stood with Livy on the dais being judged a new Alpha in society and then judged by the Plutarch as he decided who he wanted for his wife.
"I needed to reach you."
"You could have sent a message through Selene. This has to be dangerous."
Julia blinked. "Since you've been back in Arcadia, how often has Selene been away from your side long enough for anyone to get a message to her?"
Livy grinned. "Point taken." She looked around the small dark cramped underground area. "There are tunnels and caverns everywhere." Even to her own ears she sounded impressed. The rebels could move through nearly any province underground. She'd been told there were even tunnels in Pastoreum, though she didn't know if she believed it.
"Rebels are dug in. You shouldn't stay long."
Livy let her breath out in a huff. "I know. It's just. He makes my skin crawl. He had Pip in one of those pleasure palaces and he." She stopped abruptly. Julia had been slave to the ruler as well, trapped into being the second choice wife when Livy was missing. She had to know.
Julia hugged her again, more gingerly. "You'll heal. Honest."
Looking at how good Julia looked now, Livy nodded. "Of course if it doesn't work, I'll be dead. Healing from that – "
"No," Julia said, all traces of smile off her face. "It's going to work. That's what I wanted to tell you. Everything is falling into place. There's going to be a dinner in which the Plutarch announces the accelerated date for the wedding. At that dinner, you're going to take your first steps as the ruler's wife. They'll be awarding medals to his soldiers who have performed well in the war."
She looked ready to spit at that.
Panicking, Livy looked around the room they were in. It looked like storage for the market above ground, full of crates and bags of root vegetables and casks of water. She sat gingerly on the edge of one of the crates, which was marked with the image of a notch-winged butterfly
Julia, moving fast, reached for her, then peeled her carefully off the thing. Livy looked from Julia to the crate and back again.
"What was I just sitting on?"
"You don't want to know." And when Livy started to insist, she held up both hands. "Trust me. It's easier if you don't."
The rebels were really everywhere. Obscurely, that made her feel better. "Is Arash – "
Julia looked shifty. "He's fine. Olivia, don't ask questions. He's fine. He's uninjured. You'll see him soon. Now listen, because time is passing and that – thing you travel with is going to be hunting you soon, sniffing the ground like a hunting dog."
Livy blinked. "Selene?"
Julia laughed. "No, silly. The duenna."
For a moment Livy had forgotten Balk. "Damn. You're right. Message?"
"After you and the love of your life – "
Livy snorted.
" –announce the wedding date is moved up, you need to convince him in any way, shape or form to go back to Pastoreum with you."
"When I got back you were all about me making him stay here!" Livy exploded. "He's going to think – "
"That you're a jittery bride-to-be who wants to see her family. Tell them – " Julia paused and softened. "Tell them your little brother is sick. Tell them you want to see them."
Livy sat again, not meaning to, and this time Julia didn't pull her back up off the crate. "Tad? Is he really sick?"
Julia tightened her lips into a kind of rueful beak. "Sorry, Livy, he is. One more reason to do everything you can to play on the Plutarch's desire to be seen as a loving, caring, benevolent despotic dictator."
Any other time Livy would have laughed at that. Instead she buried her head in her hands and worried. She had Pip living with her, a constant worry, and needed to find a way to send her home before the rebellion. And now Tad –
"Will the rebellion start before or after I get everyone to Pastoreum?”
Julia started to shake her head, meaning not to tell Livy any thing more and Livy moved, flashing through the space between them, her forearm against her friend's throat as she pushed her up and away from her own seat and into one of the walls.
"I have Pippa with me. I want her back with our parents. If the rebellion is going to start before we get there, I'll keep her with me. If it's not, I want her home. Do you understand? The journey may be the easiest way to get her to Agara but I will. Not. Risk her."
Julia could have easily broken Livy's hold. The same boy who had trained Livy had trained Julia, though there'd been nothing else between Julia and Simon, not like with Livy and Simon. Still, she only tucked her chin, making room to breathe, and said, "After. That's why you have to get him there. But if you're worried, Pip can come to us."
Livy considered. "Maybe. It would be better than the palace and teach her a few things. She seems very swayed by the – "
"Dresses?" Julia guessed. "Who can blame her. Have I told you how beautiful you look every time I see you on television?"
"No, and I've been meaning to point out your discrepancy there," Livy said, and for an instant, the two grinned together, two friends sharing a stolen moment.
Then Julia said, "I'll lead you up. If you want Pippa to come with us, send word by Selene."
Then they were in the tunnels again, through the dark of underground, and going up the st
airs and carefully into the tiny back pocket of a room within the third tent, and through the back of it into the second and then into the first, Julia first meeting the eyes of the proprietor and then leading Livy, blinking, back into the white sunshine of the marketplace.
Where Earnestine Balk was shouting down the market for her.
Julia gave Livy one last grin. "So wouldn't want to be you right now."
"Thanks a lot," Livy said, and then, more or less to herself but meaning to be overhead by Julia, "I'm almost the wife of the supreme ruler. I'm almost the wife of the supreme ruler. I'm almost the wife of the supreme ruler."
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Julia called after her. "That will help."
IT WAS easy enough to find Balk. Most of the shoppers in the market had pulled as far away from the woman as they could, creating a ring around her of wincing, frowning shoppers. Not to mention the woman sounded like a donkey in labor.
Livy had half a mind to simply find Selene and go back to the palace, waiting for the duenna to find her way back.
"That's a terrible idea," Selene said, but her lips kept twitching and her sky blue eyes couldn't hide the smile.
"Then how about a game? If she can call the sand snakes, she can – "
"She's coming this way," Selene said, and for the first time since Livy had known her, looked likely to run.
"Olivia Bane. I have been searching the market for you. Did you not hear me calling?" Balk's arms crossed over her prodigious bosom and she glared down at Livy.
"Of course I heard you. Everyone in Arcadia heard you. People in Oceanus heard you." Livy didn't miss the look that flittered over Selene's face and suggested that the Centurion wasn't above dumping Livy to her own doom if she was going to be stupid enough to poke said doom with a stick.
"It is my sworn and solemn duty – " Balk began.
Livy interrupted. "To watch over my chastity, I believe. Do you think that's what I was doing in a stationer's tent? Or where I bought the glass of tea? Or in the tent with the nice berries?" She moved up close to the woman and said directly into her face, "Do you want me to tell my future husband that you think his bride to be is a common whore?"
But far from falling back, Balk leaned into Livy, her breath enough to curdle milk, and snapped, "Perhaps I'm the one who should have an audience with the Plutarch and tell him how she disobeys orders and runs off to meet with who knows whom on who knows what errands."
Her black eyes glowed with malice but the expression in them said Earnestine Balk had no idea where Livy had gone or who she'd spoken with.
Balk was guessing.
What Balk wasn't doing was bluffing. She wasn't beyond going to the Plutarch to tell him his fiancée was taking liberties as well as taking short jaunts on her own.
Balk was threatening her and, with a sinking feeling, Livy realized the best course of action was to back down. There was so much more at stake than her own foolish pride. The fate of her own country, the fate of perhaps all the countries, was moving inexorably to hang around her neck.
She swallowed her pride.
"I am accustomed to coming and going as I see fit, as I have a Centurion sworn to me." Not that Balk didn't know about Selene, but she acted like she didn't. She acted most of the time like she couldn't even see or hear Selene despite the number of confrontations the two had. It was childish. And tiring. "If your job is to watch my purity, rest assured, there's nothing to worry about. But if you're here only to spy, know that I will shake you off at every turn."
Balk smiled, low and angry. "Because you have something to hide."
Livy glared, cold. "Because I have nothing to hide and therefore I am angered at your presence."
"Angry or not – " the duenna began before a drunken Beta with an armload of fabrics knocked hard into her, apologized, burped, and spun back into the mainstream of traffic. All around them the street market was growing hotter and louder as the afternoon moved on. The shop keeps were barking their wares to passersby, not simply waiting to be discovered. Patrons whose point of being at the market was to drink their body weight in alcoholic fluids were reaching saturation level. Small children dragged along on what were supposed to be quick errands and had taken hours were reaching their own saturation points and beginning to scream. Livy's head was starting to ache, from sunshine and noise and the need to go back to her room and convince the man she'd just convinced not to go to Pastoreum that now they needed to.
She held up a placating hand. "I travel with Selene. You have been assigned to me. I understand that. I will talk with my husband – " almost husband – “tonight and ask him if Selene's presence is enough when I am outside the palace walls."
The old vulture drew in a hiss of air.
"Inside I will not attempt to avoid you. You may travel around being certain I'm remaining pure. And Selene will travel with me in any instance where she believes she is needed."
Balk opened and closed her mouth half a dozen times, and finally nodded.
Livy wondered vaguely if Julia was around anywhere she might have seen the interaction. Probably not, but it was a nice dream.
"Where's Pip?" she asked Selene, now suddenly as willing to panic as Balk had been, with better reason.
"Up ahead. See? She wears a balloon," said Selene, pointing to the bobbing red balloon making its way through the crowds.
Anyone could get a red balloon, Livy thought, but she let it go. Selene had more eyes and ears on the market than her own. She was always ahead of the game, whatever game it might be.
Livy relaxed and willed herself to enjoy the next couple hours.
CHAPTER 7
T he dress of the day was sapphire blue, encrusted with diamonds as if it were an early night sky. The cap sleeves sat uselessly to the sides, starting at the very edge of her shoulder as if the sleeves were an afterthought and there wasn't quite enough fabric to make them. The neckline was sharp angles, forming a shallow V from the edges of the sleeves to a spot around Livy's sternum. Not daring, not diving, just a point.
The bodice was fitted and the skirt flared. Pippa had taken one look at the dress and began begging to go with Livy.
"It's not like I have two dresses," Livy said. "And believe me, Malvin would notice if you were wearing this one."
They stood together before the floor to ceiling mirror in the walk-in closet in Livy's quarters, a closet nearly half the size of the house she'd grown up in. The dress was utterly beautiful and under other circumstances, she would have loved it. Quietly she said to Pip, "Besides, you'll wear this one tomorrow."
"Do you miss home?" she asked Pippa out of nowhere.
Pip deflated, stopped asking about dresses and sat. "The plague is there. It's mostly fever, but it's killing people. Our parents are there, though I think our mother can keep them safe. It's everyone else." She thought and shook her blond head. "No. I don’t miss it. I want to be here. With you."
That's not all, Livy thought.
"And everything that's happening here," Pip finished with a grin.
There we go.
"You want to stand in for me today?" Livy asked. "This is some huge thing, an awards ceremony for returning soldiers." She held two different pairs of earrings up to her ears and contemplated them, not liking either pair.
"Because your husband wouldn't notice the difference between us?"
Livy just smiled.
"I'm blond. You're red."
"And red," Selene said, sweeping in beside them all in a moment of uncharacteristic humor, "Is the color of danger."
Livy smirked.
SHE WASN'T SMILING ANYMORE when she got to the banquet hall.
She arrived alone, without Balk, a feat managed somehow by Selene who may well have tied up and gagged the spiteful old biddy. Livy didn't care. What she cared about was Pippa being convinced to stay behind and the Centurion trusting Livy to do her own job.
Once she stepped into the melee of the dinner in the banquet hall, she wished she'd done anything but
make a fuss to get herself there on time.
The Plutarch stood at the head of four tables arranged into an enormous square with waiters coming up from the underground kitchens into the square of tables itself to serve from there. Seated at the tables were the highest of the high Aristocratic alphas, mixed and mingled with pleasure palace girls, their slinky dresses one step short of erotic rather than elegant, and with soldiers from the Plutarch's army.
Until she'd learned of this dinner, Livy hadn't known there was anything anyone was calling a war that was already in progress.
She had expected the rebellion would begin with the rebels but the fact that the Plutarch knew about the rebellion was enough for the war to already be underway.
If undeclared.
So tonight they'd celebrate and fete the undeclared vets of a war no one admitted to.
That wasn't weird at all, Livy told herself.
The Plutarch was beaming at her, which both meant Livy needed to go join him, and also that she wasn't late. Gathering her skirts about her, she made her way to her husband-to-be, climbing the steps to the podium to take his hand.
Hands linked, they raised them above their heads and the room fell silent.
"Thank you for joining us tonight," John Malvin boomed to the packed room. There had to be some 200 people present Livy thought looking at them with sudden queasiness. "Thank you for joining us, thank you for defending us, thank you for putting our way of life and our city – no, our home – before everything else. Thank you!"
He let go of Livy's hand and put an arm around her shoulders. "To those of you who were injured in the conflicts, we will see you returned to health. For those of you who stand with us, thank you. For those of you defending your homes." He spread his arms to accompany them all. "Thank you."
There was a crescendo of noise as he stepped away, taking Livy's hand to direct her up to a table elevated so they could see the room. In rehearsal the afternoon after the market incident she'd learned she'd be required to go from soldier to soldier and hero to hero, distributing the medals and hanging them around the necks of the men as Malvin called out their names and they stood. It would be a long night, with much traipsing to and fro on the floor of the banquet hall, where everyone could look down at her. The idea made Livy a little queasy. When she looked out at the packed room full of administration workers, aristocracy, and soldiers with their loved ones, or at least with companions for the night, the room doubled, tripled, quadrupled and tried to send her dizzily to her knees. All such elegant banquets were televised, filmed and broadcast across the land. The idea that her family might be watching her even now did nothing to help Livy relax. What if they didn't realize whatever she did, she did it for them? All they'd see was Livy, decked out in the finest clothes and eating the finest foods.
