by Gwynn White
“That all depends on what I got from my . . . maneuver, doesn’t it?” he answered, way too smugly.
Lynx noted that he hadn’t announced to everyone in the dining car that he’d held her hand. She narrowed her eyes with confusion. What was his game?
In a casual tone, she said, “Maneuvers are something officers do when planning war strategies. Does that mean you and I are at war, General?”
“You tell me, Princess. After all, I’m not the one who attacked you.”
Lynx hesitated and then couldn’t resist asking, “So are you claiming that you didn’t send those guardsmen to my front gate? I assume you’re aware that their bones are now littering the desert beyond my tent flaps.” Lynx stared in his general direction, wishing she could see his face in the darkness.
She heard him suck in a breath and knew she’d scored a hit.
It gave her no satisfaction. In fact, instead of filling her with anger, all she felt was heart-wringing sorrow.
“It seems I have my answer, General. It really doesn’t matter what benefit your . . . maneuver and your attack gave you, I will always outrank you on the scoreboard.”
A guardsman holding a lighted taper barreled into the room. “Apologies, General.” In the pale light cast by his candle, Lynx saw him bow low to a laughing Axel Avanov. He headed to the nearest sconce to light the candle.
Taking advantage of the light, Axel dished Lynx up a plate of food. “Eat, Princess. I may not be at the head of the scoreboard, but I do know that it’ll be hours before you see your next meal. I’d hate for you to starve. Who would I have to banter with, then?”
Chapter 14
As the train shunted through the tunnel, Axel sat back in his chair at the dining table, watching Lynx stab the vegetables on her dinner plate. Despite her bravado about scoreboards, he read sorrow in her eyes at the death of her people, some of whom must have been her family or friends.
Part of him wanted to apologize for her loss—that was his heart talking, as he well knew. His head, which he kept firmly in charge of his heart, understood that nothing could get in the way of battle objectives. Soldiers went to war when objectives required it. People died. His job was to ensure that those objectives were met cleanly and with minimal waste. If Mad Mott had listened to his counsel to send in more guardsmen, he would have achieved that objective in Norin. Lynx would still probably be heartbroken over the deaths of fifteen raiders, but she wouldn’t be mourning the loss of children and servers, too.
But, she wasn’t the only one suffering due to the wasteful loss of her people. He, too, had lost a great deal of sleep this week, fretting about the families and friends of the thousands of soldiers being slaughtered in the carnage in Treven. Part of that lost sleep had been devoted to devising a plan with Stefan to solve the crisis. They called it Operation Treven.
It involved Lynx.
Mouthy, aggressive, and beautiful, Lynx was the perfect candidate for him to use to blackmail his father and his uncle. Maybe then they’d see reason about how badly they were conducting the war in Treven. A little flirting with Lynx, a few kisses perhaps, would be enough to get him sent to Treven without further argument. It was a low, sneaky plan to poach his cousin’s betrothed to meet a battle objective, he freely admitted, but all other reason had failed with his father.
Lukan may have been his cousin, but Axel had no regard for him. Mad Mott had been brutal when Axel, Lukan, and Tao were growing up. Coward that Lukan was, he had hidden behind Axel and Tao whenever Mott went on a rampage. Axel had willingly protected Lukan from Mott’s fists—until the day he realized his cousin was letting him take his beatings. And not because he was scared and defenceless, but because Axel was his future subject, a mere tool to be used to save Lukan’s skin. That’s when all respect—and liking—died. So Lukan’s feelings in this matter were irrelevant.
It was time to blackmail his way to victory.
Axel lifted up a fork and picked his teeth, lost in thought. When the idea of involving her first surfaced, he had rejected it. It was too dangerous—for Lynx. Unlike her, he had no doubt that he would not only survive but would benefit from the plan.
For her it would be different. In the short time he had known her, he had developed a fondness for the feisty princess. He would hate to see her harmed.
But with the passing of the week, his doubts faded. If anyone could handle being used to achieve a higher goal, she could.
Her twice daily visits to the guard car—undoubtedly searching for weapons—won over every guardsman on the train. That included crusty officers like Lieutenant Olec, not known for a sense of humor. None of those guardsmen were idiots; Axel didn’t use fools in his personal command. Stefan had handpicked soldiers who had proved strangely immune to the brain-numbing effects of the jasper ice crystals for this trip. They knew exactly what she meant by her red-faced flaunting of her wares. Yet, they warmed to her, playing along with her game. Lynx knew how to make allies from enemies. That impressed him. Even more than her legs had.
Still not convinced she would survive being embroiled in Chenayan politics, Axel devised a couple of tests for her. One involved giving her his hand axe, something he knew she had sought. Her slender hand had gripped it as though it had been made for her. Then she had tried to steal it from him. The woman had nerve.
She’d need that nerve for what he envisaged over the next few days.
His next test came with ignoring her. Instead of inviting her to play dice with him and Stefan, he pretended she didn’t exist. How would she take rejection? The outcome had been less than pleasing.
She seemed delighted by his absence.
Hmm. Not what he was used to when dealing with women.
But he didn’t doubt that the charm he was about to turn on her would win her over. His smile turned dangerous. He’d seen her drooling over him while he’d sharpened his axe. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
His final test involved holding her hand.
Her skin bore the evidence of years of work with weapons. She was not some pretty princess who had spent her life being waited on. Every intelligence report he had ever encountered about her was therefore true. Princess Lynx of Norin, commander-in-training of Thorn’s raiders, was a fighter who had won the respect and obedience of men.
She would more than survive the fallout from Operation Treven.
He tossed the fork onto the table and sighed.
Steeped in Chenayan tradition that said only men waged war, playing Lynx didn’t sit comfortably with him. Thankfully, he was known at court for being both unorthodox and sardonic, so if anyone could pull off using a woman as a military asset, he could. With aplomb, too, if he really set his mind to it.
But, no matter which way he spun it, he couldn’t claim any honor here. He certainly wouldn’t feel like much of a hero when he won the upcoming battle with his father. Still, the reward would be great—Chenayan victory in Treven.
He shifted in his seat, trying to escape his nagging conscience.
In his defense, he had tried to prepare her for the battle, within the constraints of being enemies. After Saskia had chopped off Lynx’s braid and then zapped her, Lynx wouldn’t listen to anything the priestess had to say.
That was concerning because a major part of Saskia’s job was to teach the princesses palace protocol. With Lynx’s obstinacy, those lessons weren’t happening.
So, in response, he and Stefan had concocted a scheme to give her some Saskia-free time with her uncle. Axel hoped Bear had used it to explain things Axel could never tell her, things that obviously didn’t matter in Norin—like bowing to superiors. Simple, life-saving tricks like that. Without them, she would be vulnerable in a palace where bowing and scraping were everything, and that would treble her risk in the blackmail.
Axel thumped his feet onto the surface of the dining table, wishing he spoke Norin so he could be sure of what Bear told her.
“Do you mind?” Lynx shoved his boots away from her plate, sendi
ng one of his feet clattering to the floor.
He grinned at her, dropping his other foot off the table. “Just relaxing before we hit the pomp and ceremony in Cian.”
“Well, do it somewhere else.”
Axel canted his head to look at her, and a rush of something even more powerful than conscience ran like lightning through his veins.
Desire.
It happened without fail every time he looked at her. Pity she’s betrothed to Lukan. He turned to Stefan. “Time for yet another round of dice before we leave this rolling prison?”
Stefan groaned.
If Stefan felt like Axel did, then if they both never saw another set of dice again, it would not be long enough.
Still, Stefan reached into his pocket and pulled out the ivory cubes. “We really should have brought some tiles or cards along as well.”
“Yes, you were singularly unprepared.” Axel glanced at Lynx, wondering if he should finally extend an invitation to her to play. He decided against it.
She had thrown down her knife and fork and paced the dining car, as she was wont to do when bored. Watching her naked legs and swaying hips would be far more entertaining than playing dice with her.
Lynx had finished her tenth circuit when Stefan whispered, “Life will soon be more interesting than she likes.”
Axel nodded, adding just as quietly, “Bear’s not going to like our little surprise much, either.”
Despite the emperor’s promise to Bear that his nieces were to stay with him until the wedding, Axel had different orders.
Cruel, deceitful ones he didn’t approve of.
Orders he knew would drive an even deeper wedge between him and Lynx at a time when he needed her to continue their banter.
Stefan’s face remained expressionless. He didn’t agree with the emperor’s orders, either. That had made it easier for Axel to send Stefan to warn Lynx and Bear to be on the alert when they arrived in Cian. He doubted how much it would help, but at least he had tried.
Irked to be nothing more than a badly used tool in Mad Mott’s hand, Axel stood. “I think I’ve done my bit for dice. I’ll join you when we reach the hub.”
He strode to the guard car, ignoring the off-duty men who leaped up from their games to salute him. Grunting with frustration, he grabbed his hand axe and flung it hard at a target someone had set up on the wall. But not even the solid thud of steel against wood could quiet his whining conscience about all that lay ahead of him.
Then he remembered Operation Treven.
It was time to kick it into motion.
* * *
After an hour of darkness in the tunnel, light filtered through the windows. They had reached the hub. The light burned in sconces mounted to the walls. In a few minutes, they would stop under the palace.
Axel leaned against a wall in the salon, where everyone was gathered and caught Stefan’s eye.
His friend nodded, knowing exactly what Axel expected of him to launch Operation Treven.
“Here we are, at last,” Mother Saskia chimed, removing her glove. She slipped her glove into her pocket and strode across the car toward Lynx and Kestrel.
Stefan’s warning to Bear seemed to have worked, because the emissary leaped to his feet, standing in front of his nieces.
It would buy Axel time.
He pushed himself away from the wall and strode across the car, intercepting Mother Saskia before her fingers could find the bare skin on Lynx’s arm. “You take care of the Emissary, Mother,” he commanded, “and I’ll look after the princesses.”
The priestess looked at him in surprise, mouth open to challenge him. These were not the orders he had originally given her.
“Or rather, Colonel Zarot will take care of Bear,” Axel said, having second thoughts about letting her loose on Lynx’s uncle.
A faint smile skirted Stefan’s face. Without fuss or flurry, he slid between Mother Saskia and Bear. He gripped Bear’s shoulder, pulling him aside so Axel had access to the two princesses.
Despite Bear’s yelp of protest and Saskia’s hiss of surprise, Axel wasted no time in grabbing both women by the arm.
Lynx tensed, probably preparing to resist him.
Hoping she’d connect his action to Stefan’s warning, he pleaded in a voice so low only she would hear it, “Don’t fight me, Princess.”
She looked at Bear, her face questioning. Thankfully, Bear nodded to her, and Lynx relaxed—slightly. Axel propelled her toward the door while Kestrel followed without a murmur.
The train stopped, and the doors slid open.
Axel leaped down onto the platform, dragging his captives with him. Once he had them safely away from the train, he shouted to Stefan, “The door. Get it.”
Easing away from Bear, Stefan hit an override switch, and the door sealed closed.
Kestrel gasped but seemed too shocked to act.
Whatever Lynx may have suspected, she took exception at being separated from her uncle. She ripped free from Axel, ran to the door, and slammed her hands against the glass, shouting Bear’s name. When the doors didn’t magically open, she spun around to face Axel, hands clenched into fists. He reckoned she could pack quite a punch if she set her mind on it.
Not in the mood for a black eye, Axel said, “Relax, Princess. This was the only way it could work.”
“Relax?” she yelled. “Give me one good reason why. That bitch is about to fry my uncle!”
Axel glanced at the car. Mother Saskia’s hand was just inches away from Bear’s face. Axel knew Stefan would never let her touch him. “He’s in no danger—if you cooperate with me.”
Lynx turned angry eyes on him. “You bastard!”
Axel’s stomach knotted; her reaction was just what he’d feared. Not a great start to the flirting part of Operation Treven. But protecting the Norin princesses from Saskia would at least alert his father that something was going on. That was a positive score.
“I told you, I had my orders. But trust me, it could have been a lot worse.”
“What about the emperor’s promise to let us stay with Uncle Bear until the wedding?” Kestrel squeaked.
Axel directed his answer at Lynx. “The emperor changed his mind.” He followed it up with the tiniest shrug and his least sardonic smile.
Emperor Mott had no intention of letting Lynx get comfortable at her uncle’s home in Cian. By separating her from Bear’s guidance, Mott could keep her isolated—and make sure she was suitably monitored.
“Now, I suggest we get moving. The emperor and his sons are expecting you.” Axel started toward a sweeping set of red-carpeted stairs at the end of the platform.
Kestrel dutifully trailed behind him. He glanced back to see Lynx still frozen to the spot, watching Stefan propel Bear away from Saskia.
Axel had just lost the upper hand.
With her uncle out of harm’s way, Lynx demanded, “You mean they would have met us while we were unconscious?” Her hands had now found her hips. But her face was most telling. She leaned forward, eyes pleading with him to deny that Saskia intended to shock her and Kestrel.
He had no choice but to dash her hopes. “They’d have waited for you to revive.”
At least she’d figured out he’d spared her the indignity of being fried.
“Now come, Princess. We’re on a schedule here.” Axel moved forward.
Lynx didn’t budge.
Axel sighed. “Now what?”
“The least you could have done was tell me you planned to abduct me. After all, where was I supposed to escape to?”
Mentally scrambling around for patience, he said, “Now why would I have done that, Princess?”
“Dragon’s bloody testicles!” Lynx stamped her foot. “Stop calling me ‘Princess.’”
Axel glanced at Kestrel to see how she was taking her sister’s tantrum. Kestrel looked bored.
He suppressed a smile. “So what am I supposed to call you, then?”
“I have a name. Use it.”
“
Okay, Lynx. But you call me ‘General’ once more, and I’ll feed you to the wolves.”
“Wolves?” Kestrel asked.
“Instead of a moat, our new home comes complete with an enclosure filled with half-starved wolves,” Lynx said to her sister in a brittle voice, “or did the she-witch forget to mention that little fact during all your discussions on how wonderful life would be?”
Kestrel raised her eyebrows at Axel. “Is that true?”
“Yes. They chomp anyone who dares enter the palace precinct without an invitation. Lynx, Kestrel, let’s go.”
“You can call me ‘Princess,’” Kestrel said pertly, without moving.
Axel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The whole situation had taken on a surreal quality. “Okay, ladies, titles and wolves aside, can we please get going?”
“No.” Lynx took a threatening step toward him, tugging at her knee-length black dress. “I still want to know why the hell you didn’t warn me, so I could change out of my training dress?”
Training dress?
Then Axel understood. His shoulders slumped. This was definitely not how Lynx was supposed to appear in front of the emperor.
If he hadn’t interfered, Saskia would have knocked Lynx unconscious and dressed her in yet another hideous monstrosity she had arranged for the princess. He looked toward the train car, where the crates of Lynx’s discarded clothing were stored. It was useless even thinking about getting them. The moment the door opened, Saskia would be on Lynx like a lightning storm. The only way he could stop her would be to fight with her. A shouting match with the Great High Priestess about protecting Lynx would be a poor start to Operation Treven.
“I said you shouldn’t have rejected all of Mother Saskia’s lovely gowns,” Kestrel observed.
Axel looked at Kestrel—sadly, she was right, but it was too late to fret about now. He turned back to Lynx. Fury rode in her eyes.
He would have to placate her to get her moving. “What does it matter, Lynx?” he asked, far more gently than he’d intended. “What you wear will never change who you are. You’ll always be you, and that means you’ll never be one of us. The sooner Lukan and the emperor learn that, the better.”
