by Cat Marsters
She couldn’t sustain it. Gripping his shoulders with both hands, she abandoned herself to the driving pleasure building in her and rode him to a hot, screaming climax.
She was barely aware he’d come, trembling and shaking as she was, breathing hard, her body heavy against him. Bael held her, stroked her back, kissed her hair. She thought he might be trembling too.
“You never, ever disappoint me,” he said softly against her temple, and Kett looked up at the simplest and fullest praise she’d ever received.
She kissed him, safe and loved and more content than she could ever remember being.
Kett cuddled against him, warm and quiet, and Bael tugged at the blanket she’d been wearing, draping it over her bare back and smiling at her murmur of thanks. She was delicious like this, boneless and lazy, her body soft and sated, snuggling up to him like a sleepy kitten.
She dozed for a while but he stayed awake, watching the flicker of the floating ball of fire he’d created. Rain spattered against the windows, blown in fits and jerks, and a draught came in under the door.
Bael manifested another fireball just by thinking about it, lengthened it out into a narrow shape about a yard long and floated it down to the gap under the door. A draught-excluder made of flames.
He was astonished he could do such a thing. No matter how much his father and Albhar had tried to tutor him, he’d never been able to master the simplest of spells. But then, this didn’t seem to be about spells. This was about power, innate magic. The sort Albhar had so little of.
His former mentor had made up for his lack of power by learning every spell there had ever been. Including, apparently, one that involved the death of his pupil, his friend’s son, and in fact the man who kept him in such luxurious style.
The fireballs warming the room grew a little brighter with his anger and he quickly tried to calm himself. He didn’t want to set the place on fire.
In his arms, Kett stirred, cuddling closer, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. Overwhelmed with love, he clasped her tighter to him.
Albhar had tried to kill her. Twice.
Maybe three times.
Because who else could have turned her to stone when she was a baby? Who else would have?
He would burn.
The buzz of Kett’s scryer startled her awake, jolting her against him. Bael smiled at her as she opened her eyes, the silver fire in them banked by sleep. He brushed his lips gently against hers, eliciting a drowsy smile from her before she picked up the scryer and yawned, “Yeah?”
“Did I wake you, pet?”
It was Striker. Bael felt that prickle of unease run through him, like an animal sensing a predator. Annoyed that the last vestiges of his warm, satisfied stupor had been blasted away, he scowled at the handsome face smirking out from Kett’s scryer.
“Yes, you did wake me, actually,” Kett said, apparently unafraid.
“I’d pretend I’m sorry, but I ain’t. We all set for tomorrow?”
“Think so, yeah. Have you spoken to Chance?”
Striker grinned. “She wants to come.”
“Did you tell her she couldn’t?”
“Yep.”
“Did you tell her why?”
Striker grinned wider. “Nope. Stupid girl ought to be able to figure it out herself.”
“Yes, well.” Kett shrugged her beautiful shoulders. “These things are often more apparent to other people. Is Dark coming?”
“Yeah. Apparently he can’t get enough of fighting the bastards.”
“A man after your own heart. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
She ended the call, letting the little hemisphere of rock thud onto the sofa, and curled back against Bael’s body, nuzzling his shoulder. Her back shook with a small laugh.
“What?” he asked.
“Chance. I bet she’s livid to be left out.”
“Left out of what?”
“A good fight.”
Bael couldn’t help smiling, wondering who she was going to fight. Then he frowned, tilted her face up to his. “Now, I know why she shouldn’t fight, but what do you know?”
“I know she’s pregnant.” Kett shrugged. “Animal senses.”
“She smells different,” Bael agreed. “And her fa— Striker knows?” He couldn’t think of that hideously evil man as being anybody’s father—let alone his queen’s.
“He always knows,” Kett said. “He knew Nuala was pregnant before she did. And he knew they were going to be triplets. And he knew there’d be two girls and a boy. He even knew the birth order.”
Bael whistled.
“Of course, being Striker, he wrote it down somewhere and didn’t tell her. Hey,” she said, sitting up and pushing her springy hair back, “will Chance and Dark’s kids be Nasc? I mean, she’s human. Well, almost human.”
Bael shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know any Nasc who’ve mated with non-Nasc. Hell, I don’t know any other Nasc at all, except for them.”
“None at all?”
“No.” He idly stroked her back. “I was always too frightened of being discovered. I listened for news about the king and his sister, but I never tried to find anyone. My father put the fear of the gods into me about the Federación. I heard news about the Nasc, kept my ears open, and I heard about what the Federación did to freaks like me.”
She gave a half smile and lightly punched his shoulder. “If you’re a freak, what does that make me?”
“Gorgeous,” Bael replied promptly. “Sexy.” He kissed one side of her jaw, just under her ear. “Perfect.”
“Give over,” she protested.
“Nope. I love you, Kett,” he said sincerely, not allowing her to duck away from him. “I’ll do anything for you.”
“Kill Albhar,” she said tonelessly, and he straightened.
“Seriously?”
“That’s where we’re going tomorrow. Striker’s good at finding people. Plus he likes exploding things. I’m going to find him, I’m going to give him a chance to repent, and then I’m going to—”
“Move away while I incinerate him,” Bael finished for her.
She raised her eyebrows.
“Kett, quite apart from the fact that Albhar is the closest thing I’ve had to family for twenty years and he intended to sacrifice me in a ritual, don’t you think I’d go after him for what he did to you?”
“I can take care of myself,” she said stiffly.
“I know you can, sweetheart, it’s one of my favorite things about you.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “But you’re going to have to put up with me trying to protect you now, I’m afraid. That’s just the way it’s going to be.”
“You are so full of—”
“Love and admiration for you,” Bael said, kissing her mouth again. “Seriously, Kett. He tried to kill you, three times by my count. He had you turned into a statue for eight years! What sort of person does that to a baby?”
“A ruthless one,” Kett said. She frowned. “How do you know Albhar did it?”
“Who else would? He beat and starved you,” Bael said, his fingers tightening on her arms. He will burn.
“On your orders.”
Bael winced. “Yes. Well. Have I mentioned many, many apologies for that?” He gathered her in close.
“Bael,” she interrupted. “Look. You said he’s the closest thing you have to family. You shouldn’t be the one to kill him.”
“Yes,” Bael said grimly, “I should. Not just because of what he did to you, but because he’s supposed to be my family and he tried to kill me.”
“Don’t kill him for revenge,” Kett said, her eyes flashing. “Kill him because it’s the right thing to do.”
Bael, who’d never bothered hugely with what was wrong and what was right, frowned, but he nodded.
They were both silent for a while, then Kett said, “Anyway, it’s academic. Striker’ll probably get there first.”
“What grudge does he have against Albhar?” Bael asked, thinkin
g of his mentor’s extremely minor talents.
“Oh, none really. Well, apart from Albhar being involved with the Federación, who are responsible for that huge scar on Chance’s back. But really he just likes killing people. Chalia doesn’t let him do it very often.”
“Lovely,” Bael said. “How—and I realize I may regret asking—how does Striker know where Albhar will be? He’s probably left the Vyiskagrad house by now.”
Kett nodded. “Yeah. Striker reckons he’s gone south. He’ll know better once we’ve crossed the Wall, but his guess was Pra—”
She froze.
“Pradesh?” Bael asked, and Kett gave a mechanical nod. She breathed jerkily for a few seconds, and when she spoke her voice came out very calm.
“Bael, when you said you used to know the Maharaja of Pradesh, you were just bragging, right?”
“Sure,” he said, and she relaxed. “But it was true all the same.”
Her eyes went distant, panicked. Her fingers traced the faded scar on her thigh.
“Kett?” Bael prompted.
“Does Albhar know him?”
“Probably. He used to brag about being friends with the Governor, when Pradesh was still a colony. Now it’s been handed back to the—”
“Maharaja,” Kett said, “who I was performing for the night before I found myself strung up in that cave with you.”
“Performing what?” Bael asked, terrible jealousy ripping through him.
“Shape-changing. As an entertainment. I don’t do it often. I just did that as a favor. Shape-changing, Bael, the day before the cave.”
A terrible silence followed.
“Albhar knows him,” Bael said.
“I know him,” Kett said. “He took me in when my leg was hurt. He was kind to me. He helped me get hold of my parents and Striker. I went back there to perform at his daughter’s wedding as a favor.”
“It could just be a coincidence,” Bael said without much confidence, and Kett gave him a disbelieving look. “No, I didn’t think so either.”
“I am going to eviscerate him,” she said, clambering off Bael and resisting his efforts to hold her in place. “I’m going to find that damn tiger and feed him to it!”
“And I’ll be right behind you,” he said, watching her pace naked. “But—”
“The sneaky rotten conniving backstabbing shit of a bastard!”
“Absolutely,” Bael said, “but the thing is—”
“I’m going to get his fat, slimy entrails and wrap them around his neck. I’m—”
“Yes,” Bael said, “but the thing is, the Maharaja of Pradesh has one of the biggest standing armies in Asiatica. He’s famous for it. Determined not to let anyone colonize his country again.”
“I’ll kill them all too,” Kett vowed carelessly.
“You and whose army?” Bael asked.
And Kett smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Oh,” Bael said. “That army.”
The five of them stood on a small hill overlooking a valley. It was filled with tents, cooking fires and people sharpening swords.
“I made some calls,” Kett said. “Could have gotten more if we’d had more notice, but…well, really they’re just for backup.”
“But that’s a whole army,” Bael said. “Who do you know with a whole army?”
“Well, her step-uncle, for one,” said Lya. “Technically, he’s head of the whole Peneggan army.”
“But we’re not in Peneggan,” Bael said. They’d crossed the Wall late last night—him, Kett, Striker, Dark and Lya the kelf—and endured a hair-raising journey on the back of a terrifying and completely untamed Xinjiangese dragon. “I thought the Peneggan army had pulled out of Pradesh years ago. Handed control back to the locals.”
“The colony was handed back,” Kett said. “But a battalion or two stayed behind with the handover. It’s not a whole army,” she mimicked Bael’s tone, “but it’s probably enough to attack the Maharaja’s palace.”
“Which is probably why he keeps such a big army of his own,” Lya murmured.
“Checks and balances,” Kett said. “Come on. I know the colonel.”
They walked down into the camp, Striker striding on ahead, Kett discussing strategy with Dark, leaving Bael to walk with Lya. Her bare, three-toed feet pattered silently on the ground. The air was full of sound, but all Bael could hear was the kelf’s silence.
“Look,” he said eventually. “I’m sorry about— I was really rude to you. That day in the café.”
“I’ve had worse,” she said. “It’s all right.” She paused. Dust rose around them. “A kelf didn’t kill your mother, you know.”
“Neither did a shapeshifter,” Bael said.
“No. It was her own ritual. Her own hunger for power. She got the details wrong, and it killed her.” Lya’s huge purple eyes looked up at him. “You know that, don’t you?”
Bael took in a breath and blew it out. “My father knew that,” he said.
“My guess is he thought you’d prefer to be told it was someone you already hated,” Lya said.
“Or he didn’t want to admit the truth.”
“Perhaps. He was a very proud man.” She hesitated. “But not a bad one, in the scheme of things.”
“Yes, well, the ‘scheme of things’ includes Striker, doesn’t it?”
Lya gave him a pointy-toothed grin, and they followed Kett and Dark into the army camp.
The colonel was not, as Bael had assumed, an army buddy of Kett’s, but a fellow Knight from this mysterious Order she’d told him about. He’d been amazed to learn that not only were Kett, Striker, Chance and Jarven all fully qualified Knights, but so were a good deal of Nuala and Tyrnan’s friends.
“Tane’s going to be so pissed off,” Kett commented as they entered the camp and she saluted the guards. “He’s due to join the army next year. Officer training. He’d love to come down here and fight.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“Politics. Can’t get the king’s nephew involved. If he were to be killed by Pradeshi troops, it could turn into an international incident. We’d probably go to war.”
“But it’s okay for a battalion of the Peneggan army to fight?” Bael asked.
Kett made a wavering gesture with her hands. “They’re not technically part of the Peneggan army,” she said. “It’s some bureaucratic bollocks. Don’t ask me the details.”
“Is that why you didn’t let your dad come?” Bael asked.
Kett snorted. “My dad is an international incident. And he’s far too old for all this.”
“Technically, he’s younger than me,” said Striker.
“Technically, you’re a psychotic freak,” Kett responded, lightning fast, “so it doesn’t matter.”
Bael tried not to laugh too hard.
The colonel, an intelligent and hardy man by the name of Darson, gave them food and drink and a tent in which to rest. Striker lay down on one of the bunks, closed his eyes and immediately appeared to be asleep. The other four exchanged glances. None of them were fooled.
“So,” Dark said. “Is there a plan?”
* * * * *
“Second time in a bleeding month I’ve been in a dress,” Kett said in disgust, looking at herself in the smallish, wobbly mirror Darson had provided.
“You look charming,” Lya said, trying to keep a straight face. Kelfs were usually good at this, but apparently not when something was as hilarious as Kett in sequins. “Very…pretty.”
“I look like a Pradeshi whore,” Kett said, and Lya giggled. Kett had never heard Lya giggle before. It wasn’t encouraging.
“You’re supposed to look like one,” Lya said. “That’s your cover story, remember?”
“Yeah.” She sighed gloomily and tweaked at the very low, very short, beaded bodice Chance had given her. Her own charms didn’t quite fill it, but one of the advantages of being a shapeshifter was that you could alter yourself to fit clothes, instead of the other way around.
> She’d erased all signs of scars on her body, not that there were many left after Bael had spent the previous night licking her all over and making her scream. Her nipples puckered at the memory and she tried to banish it.
The tiny bodice was matched by a full skirt, also embellished with enough beads and mirrors to dazzle an army. Her feet were bare but for a couple of decorative rings and anklets. Bangles clanked on her arm. Necklaces, earrings and a sort of jeweled headpiece completed the look.
Kett felt like a Yule tree.
She’d altered her appearance to that of a young Pradeshi woman, kohled her eyes and made an effort with her hair. With a lot of concentration, she could make the curls straighten themselves out.
“Ready?” Bael asked, pushing back the tent flap.
“No.” Kett plucked at her clothing in disgust.
He stared. “Is that really you, Kett?”
“I wish it bloody wasn’t. How do people walk with these skirts? They get tangled up. And the whole thing weighs a ton. I’ve worn armor more comfortable. It—”
Bael had her in his arms, kissing her hard, his hands roaming over her bare waist. His body pressed against hers, and even through the heavy skirts she could feel the hardness of his arousal.
“But then again…” Kett swallowed when he let her go. Behind him, the tent flap was closing. Lya had vanished.
“I’d never have recognized you,” Bael said, nuzzling her neck, “until you opened your mouth.”
“I could be another tavern whore.”
He stiffened for a moment then said, “And if you were, I’d know you weren’t, because if you were then how would you know that I wouldn’t know?”
“Um,” said Kett.
He grinned. “Can I see your face?”
She let the shape slip away and the look that came over Bael’s face was her reward. His eyes softened, his lips curved in a smile. He looked like a man in love.
“I prefer you this way.”
“You don’t think they’d recognize me?”
“Mmm.” He nuzzled her neck again. “No. I think they’ll be distracted,” his hand slipped to her breast, “and unable to even look at your face.”
She let him feel her breasts before telling him, “You know those aren’t real, right?”
