by Natalie Grey
“And you like it?” Cade squinted at the equations. He’d been put through a course to learn piloting, as every Dragon was, but even his natural talent in Physics had been put to the test. The calculations needed for a correct jump were surprisingly delicate.
Was this what she had been hiding?
“I know it’s boring.” Aryn let out her breath in a sigh and stared out the window. The sun was beginning to set over the mountains, and her face was lit gold. She pulled her knees up to her chest, lost in thought. “It just all makes sense somehow. I’ve only been in space once, but I loved it.”
He might have quit a hundred times in these first two weeks, but it was these moments that held him, and the growing knowledge that this wasn’t an act. Aryn might be made of false smiles, might not love her husband—a fact Cade was still trying to decide whether or not Ellian knew—but there was a side of her that nothing on New Arizona or Ymir had warped. So when she looked back, Cade smiled.
“This is impressive.” He held up the book. “Truly. Do you know ships sit in port for weeks sometimes for lack of qualified pilots?” He was about to add that they made a fortune, then stopped himself. Clearly, Aryn did not need money.
As he was putting the book back on the table, however, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground.
“Give me that.” Aryn was on her feet in a moment.
The gesture was involuntary. Cade flipped it over—and sucked in his breath. What lay in his hands were weapons schematics, and not just for anything. For the AK-354. The gun was cheap, durable, and used almost exclusively by the underground.
So it had indeed all been an act. Nothing could have prepared him for the disappointment he felt roiling in his stomach. He had begun to trust her, really trust her.
“Ms. Beranek.” His voice was steady. Cade put the piece of paper down, his hand shaking. “I believe I will take my leave.”
“No.” Her voice was panicked.
“What?” He turned, frowning.
“Don’t…” Her breath came in a jerk. “Please.” She was shaking all through, her eyes wide. “You can’t tell Ellian. Please don’t tell Ellian.”
That brought him up short. He turned.
“I beg your pardon?”
“He doesn’t know,” Aryn whispered. She was trying to keep her voice steady, but tears were forming in her eyes. “I know he hired you. I know you’re his man before you’re mine, but please.”
“I’m not his man.” He had never spoken truer words in his life.
“You have to be.” Her voice was flat. “And I’ve tried not to show you anything you’d have to tell him about. But now that you know, I beg you—Cade, I am begging you not to tell him.”
“So this isn’t….” He couldn’t even begin to process this. “So you’re not working with him?”
She stopped, jolted out of her fear.
“What?”
“You’re telling me you don’t have these because you’re working with Ellian.” He almost spat the words at her. It had all been lies. All of it. Sometimes I think Aryn suspects.
Why would Ellian have bothered to lie to Cade about that? He hadn’t. One look at her face showed that Aryn hadn’t known, hadn’t even suspected.
And now Cade got to be the one who watched her figure it out.
“He traffics in weapons?” she asked finally. Her voice was lost, and Cade felt relief wash over him. She truly hadn’t known what her husband did. She was, in some ways, exactly the woman Ellian thought.
There was one thing, however, that Cade had not counted on.
“So when he was on Ymir….” Aryn was shaking again. She almost looked like she was going to laugh. “He was supplying weapons.” She swallowed hard. “To the Warlord.”
Oh, no. Cade closed his eyes.
And then, in horror, he understood at last.
You bastard. His lips moved on the words, and nothing came out. What was it Talon had said? That the Warlord did not yet have a weapon that could kill his workers—but that he would soon? And how had Cade never thought to ask why Talon would know that Ellian, of all people, was searching for a bodyguard?
You bastard, Talon. You knew I’d find out.
“Cade?” Aryn’s voice was very small. “Tell me it’s not true. It’s not true, is it?”
“Aryn—Ms. Beranek—”
Aryn turned, her hand over her mouth, and then she doubled over and retched on the carpet.
27
“Aryn.” There was pity in Cade’s voice.
She didn’t want his pity. She pushed herself up and ran, slamming the door to the dressing room in his face and sliding down the back of it, her arms wrapped around herself, lips pressed together to keep in the sound.
They had all known. All of them. Samara, Cade, Emala—everyone except Aryn. She hadn’t made a good marriage, gotten herself off Ymir, kept her family safe, traded true love for kindness. Ellian wasn’t a good man.
She might as well have married the Warlord himself.
And everyone else had made sure she did not know what she was doing. In a moment, the litany of anger changed to fury. She did not think, only hauled herself up and ripped open the door, startling when she saw that Cade had not moved. He looked down at her and she felt the flash of heat between them and did not care.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He turned away, running his hands through the short hair and the back of his head. It was an unexpectedly boyish gesture. For the first time she had seen him, he looked unsure of himself.
“I thought you knew.” He did not look back at her. “At first. And then Ellian told me you didn’t, and I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“How could you…” But she remembered now. She had seen his hatred when she gave him her society wife smile. He thought she was knowingly profiting from the deaths of millions. She closed her mouth and looked down, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him look back at her.
“What is it?” he asked her, his voice low.
“No wonder you hated me,” Aryn said softly. She looked up at him.
“Aryn, even within a few days—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.” She was shivering now.
Purpose came in a rush and she went to the evening gowns, looking for one that would convey suitable seriousness.
“What are you doing?”
“I have to talk to Ellian.”
Cade was at her side so quickly she hardly saw him move. She looked up, moving slightly so that they would not touch; it had taken only a few lessons to make her careful about that.
“That is not a good idea.” Cade looked down into her face.
“I’ve been a fool, but I will not continue to play the part.”
“That is exactly what you will do.” He heard the order come out of his mouth and closed his eyes briefly as if searching for words. “Aryn, your husband gave me to you to keep you safe, and I will do whatever it takes, teach you whatever skills you need, to fulfill that promise.” His lips twitched in an attempt at a smile. “If you doubt me, remember, I nearly shot a book for you a few minutes ago.”
Her laugh came out wild, and something inside Aryn broke. She reached out and took a handful of his shirt, leaning her head against his chest and feeling the tears trickle out of her eyes. It was too much all at once. Tentatively, his arms came around her—not wrapped around her back as she would like, but with his hands resting awkwardly on her shoulders as if he would pat her on the head and tell her not to cry. He was cautious, and utterly at a loss, and Aryn could hear his breath coming shallow. She took a moment before straightening up.
“And you have protected me—even knowing what Ellian was.”
“Because of what Ellian was,” he corrected her. “And I will continue to do so, Aryn. So, now, please, trust me. Just like I would tell you not to walk down a dark alleyway at night, I am telling you not to confront your husband.”
Aryn did not bother to contradict him. She shrugged of
f her robe, aware of Cade turning away quickly so as not to look at her nakedness, and she pulled a dress on, presenting her back to him and sweeping her hair out of the way.
“I need you to zip this.” There was a pause, and she knew he was considering the fact that she wouldn’t go through the halls half-naked. “If you don’t do it, I’ll call Emala,” she warned him.
He swore softly and slid the zipper up, but he blocked her path.
“What can I say to convince you?”
“Nothing,” Aryn said flatly.
“Trust me on this—”
“But I can’t trust you.” The words came out before she could stop herself, and even seeing the hurt on his face, she couldn’t stop herself. “For two years, I have lived with the man who supplied weapons to the Warlord. Two weeks ago, the day you came to meet me, I asked Ellian to speak to the Warlord and stop him from bombing the outlying villages. Do you understand, Cade? I asked my husband to stop the Warlord from using the very weapons he provided, and he looked me in the eyes and he said that he would. Four days ago, I told my friend, a woman who is living in a bunker, that I would look through Ellian’s contacts to see if I could find anyone he knew who could get weapons for the resistance. And she told me not to, and do you know why?”
He swallowed before answering.
“Because she knew,” he said finally. His voice was quiet.
“Because she knew!” Aryn threw it back in his face. She was keeping her words so low that the scanners couldn’t hear them, but she knew her control was slipping. She was choking on the tears now. “Everyone knew except me! Everyone I knew lied to my face about it.” She turned away, hands over her eyes. “My God, no wonder Nura hates me. She thought I knew, she never realized….” She clenched her hands and took a deep breath, turning back to him. “So now you ask me to trust you, Mr. Williams, and I don’t think I can. I think trusting anyone right now would be the biggest mistake I could make.”
“Yes,” he said savagely. He was at her side in a moment, pressing her up against the wall in the curve of the hallway; he, too, knew where the cameras were. His face hovered close to hers, and his voice was so low that even she could hardly hear it.
Her breath caught in her chest at the feel of him against her, holding her. Awareness flared, and a deep heat, but she could not look away from his eyes.
“Then don’t trust me,” he said, his voice low. “You could, Aryn. But….” He looked away, then back, his jaw clenched. “Don’t trust me. Trust no one. But do you see that if you go to Ellian now, if you confront him with this, then you are trusting him to be kind to you?”
And that, of all things, made sense. Aryn watched him as he drew away and bit her lip.
“Okay. I won’t confront him about this.” She saw Cade’s sigh of relief, and almost regretted what she was about to say next. “But I am going to talk to him.”
“What?” He followed her, a scant step behind as she went to the sink and splashed water on her face, blotting her eyelashes carefully and applying concealer under her eyes. “Are you insane?” His voice was a hiss.
“The very opposite. For the first time in years, I am living in the real world.” Aryn lifted her head.
“What are you going to say?”
“I haven’t decided that yet.”
“I strongly suggest having a plan!”
“Noted, Mr. Williams.” She made her way out of the rooms, walking down the hallway with the blood beating in her ears.
He was right. She should really have a plan. But when she knocked on the door of Ellian’s office, she found that she still had nothing to say.
“Aryn.” He opened the door. “Mr. Williams.”
“Mr. Williams was just going,” Aryn said. She slipped past Ellian into the room.
He stared at her, his eyes faintly narrowed.
So you’re the one who supplied the Warlord with his weapons. She could say it. It would be so damned easy. He knew that she knew something. He must have seen her throw up in the bedroom. He had cameras there, didn’t he?
He did, she decided, but right now she was too angry to be afraid.
“I would like to go to Ymir,” she said.
“What?” He stared at her, his hand still on the doorknob. “Why?”
A very good question. Why did she want to go?
To bring weapons to the resistance movement. She could hardly say that, however.
“I’d like to see my parents.” That was good. Plausible, even.
Ellian blinked, and then put on his concerned face. This conversation was clearly not going how he had expected.
“Are they sick?”
“Not that I know of. But, Ellian—” she could not bring herself to say the words my love “—it has been two years.”
“I thought you said things were very bad there,” he temporized, going to sit on the edge of his desk.
“Not in the city,” Aryn said, shrugging. She paused a moment, trying to keep the edge from her voice. “And you’re known to the Warlord, at least. Couldn’t you come up with some reason to be there?”
Now it was his turn to be blindsided.
“You want me to come with you?”
“Of course.” Aryn managed a little frown. She didn’t, but there was no other good answer—and she’d spent years learning to say the right thing without hesitation. “Are…are you too busy?” She was supposed to look sad here, she knew, even if her heart was leaping with the hope that he might not be able to go.
He considered for a moment, looking at his desk, at her, at the door that separated them from Cade. And then, chillingly, he smiled.
“You know, I believe I am too busy. But you absolutely must take Mr. Williams with you. That is my condition, Aryn.”
Something about this seemed off, but she could not for the life of her think what it was. What did that smile mean?
At least they seemed to baffle one another equally.
Maybe that was the basis of a good marriage. She tried not to start laughing; she was worried she might not be able to stop.
“Very well, then.” She nodded. Tried to think of what came next. “I’ll tell you when I’ve made the arrangements.”
“Thank you.”
They stared at one another, her trying to guess his thoughts, his face saying plainly that he was just as confused as she was. Then she left, him looking after her.
“Good night,” she said, somewhat mechanically, at the door.
“Good night.”
Outside, she looked up at Cade’s face.
“Are you…hurt?”
“No.” She frowned. “We’re going to Ymir.”
He stared at her like she’d gone insane.
“Why?”
Aryn paused, choosing her words carefully.
“I’m not entirely sure,” she said finally. That would have to do. She set off for her bedroom with a sense of dubious victory. If Ellian was going to try to influence events on Ymir, she was going to do as much as she could to undo everything he did. There was a certain poetic justice in that.
Now all she had to do was tell Talon she was leaving tomorrow—and that he could use her ship if he wanted to, to transport the weapons.
28
Private ship leaving tomorrow for Ymir. The message from Aryn was terse—as though she’d begun to pick up Cade’s speech patterns, Talon thought. He smiled as he read. Docking Port 4a. The ship is called Niccolo.
The door slid open behind him. “What’s up, boss?” Nyx stayed where she was, waiting for express permission to enter.
Talon beckoned her forward without turning around and leaned sideways to let her see the screen. She whistled through her teeth. “We can get the weapons delivered there?”
“Better them than us, right? They’re looking for us. Lesedi says there are alerts out for the Ariane.” He looked up at her. “So, tell me. Who do we bring?”
She answered promptly. She’d been thinking about it. “I think we’re in the clear for eve
ryone, if we’re being honest, but if we play it safe? Tersi and Jester. Loki, Aegis, Sphinx, Jim, Stabby, Vampire, and Gomer.”
Talon nodded. He would have added KC to the list, but he’d been fairly close with Mars. Nyx was right not to include him. It was too much of a risk.
“Tell them what’s going on,” he told her. “Put ‘em in pairs so one of them can get the other, if you can’t get to them all.”
“Solid.” She slid towards the door. “Who’s going for Cade?”
“They’re both going.” Talon swiveled in his chair. “Why?”
“You were right when you said he’s gotten stupid over her. Didn’t want to leave him alone here. Someone needs to keep an eye on that boy.”
Talon grinned. “God help your children someday. They’re not going to be able to get away with anything, are they?”
Her voice filtered back along the corridor. “Hell no, they aren’t.”
Talon chuckled as he went back to his maps. If he’d intercepted the correct message, Pallas was planning to have 300 mercenaries in place in the spaceport. The question, of course, was whether or not they’d fire freely around civilians.
It disturbed him that he couldn’t guess the answer to that.
“Yo.” Nyx leaned in the doorway to Loki’s bunk. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.” He looked up from a book of schematics and shifted back to give her room on the bed when she ducked into the room. He’d already lost the manners they tried to drill into recruits: endless salutes, “sir”s and “ma’am”s peppered liberally into conversation. He was fitting in well.
His eyebrows rose fractionally when she closed the door behind her.
“Here’s the deal.” She didn’t believe in sugarcoating things. “Tomorrow, we’re going on a mission that’s not cleared by the Alliance. Someone high ranking is involved in … something bad. More details later. We’re not taking the whole crew, and this is going to be a dangerous mission.”
