Dragon's Honor

by Natalie Grey

  “Go.” Ellian snarled the word. He looked away until the door closed and he was alone, and then he let his eyes close for a single moment.

  Talon Rift. He’d dealt with the man, and now he’d failed to kill him. Not only that—there were more Dragon crews involved.

  The incoming call alert only made his heart sink further. He knew who this was.

  But he was a merchant, and he had only one buyer. He forced a smile onto his face and accepted the call.

  “I was led to believe I was expecting your ship on Ymir, but now I hear it never left.” Aleksandr Soras, ensconced in his personal study on Ymir, allowed himself a grimace under the mask. He’d left his work on Seneca on short notice, which was always a risk—what if someone followed the ship?

  He had thought it worth it, in order to meet with Ellian and secure the weapons.

  But the ship had not arrived.

  “There was … a disturbance.” Ellian shaped the word carefully, as if it were so inexact as to be a lie. “At the spaceport. The ship will leave tomorrow. Aryn—my wife—would like to visit her parents.”

  “You will not be coming?” This was strange.

  “I am needed here. I have many things to attend to for you.”

  “Such as killing Talon Rift?” Soras felt his pulse quicken. Rift’s team and an armed resistance would make a powerful combination, but if Rift were gone, Soras would not worry nearly so much.

  To his surprise, Ellian cleared his throat and looked away.

  “What?” Soras snapped the word. “What is it?”

  “We laid a trap for him today at the spaceport. He … evaded it.”

  The Warlord studied the diagnostics running alongside his screen. None of them could seem to tell if Ellian was telling the truth or not.

  “Well, then.” He sat forward with a smile. “What you need to do is very clear, don’t you think?”

  Ellian sat silently, but when Soras said nothing, he said finally “What do I need to do?”

  “You need to kill Talon Rift,” the Warlord said quietly, “so that you can accompany your lovely wife to Ymir, and bring me the weapons you promised. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to find another armorer. I can’t wait forever, Pallas.”

  Ellian swallowed, and Soras knew the time for pleasant tones was over.

  “You’re a go-between,” he said, his voice hard. “You’re a merchant. You’re replaceable, Pallas, and unless you want to lose every single thing you hold dear—and I’m not talking about your apartment, I’m talking about your wife, your sister, your nephew—you will do the one thing I asked you to do.”

  He ended the call without another word.

  In his office, Ellian sat with raw fury pouring into his chest. He wasn’t afraid, not anymore.

  You’re a merchant. You’re replaceable.

  How dare he? A grown man, wearing a mask, pretending that he was—

  Ellian stopped. A new idea was coming to him.

  A very good new idea.

  Our ship leaves tomorrow. Meet us at the spaceport in three days.

  Samara gave a wondering laugh. She turned the screen so the others could see it, and smiled until her face ached as cheers went up.

  It was happening. They were coming to Ymir.

  “I’d like to make a toast,” she said, standing up.

  Obediently, the assembled crowd lifted their canteens of water.

  “To the Warlord,” Samara said. “These are your last few days on earth, you miserable bastard. Enjoy them.”

  Epilogue

  The private ship sat sleek and heavy, crouched like a predator on the launch pad, and their breath puffed in tiny clouds before their faces as they stared at it. The sky was leaden above the private terminal, threatening snow, and Aryn could only pray that it held off.

  Ellian was reluctant to let her go. The night before, he had come to her rooms and dismissed Cade, only to hold Aryn close to him.

  “I don’t want to lose you,” he said into her hair. She could smell brandy on his breath; his voice was softer than it normally was.

  She tried to hate him, not just for who he was, but for his lies. He had never given any indication that he suspected her past affiliation with the resistance—and yet, he had known better than to tell her what he did for a living. And still, cradled against him, Aryn felt the familiar yearning, and tears came to her eyes. She had wanted to love him, she truly had—and she had tried to do so. When he spoke like this, she could not help but remember how he looked at her, in the beginning.

  “Aryn.”

  She felt his breath, swallowed. She did not know what to say. When he drew away, it was to put his fingers under her chin, and she looked up reluctantly.

  “It scares me,’ he said at last, “how much I love you.” There was no deception in his gaze, and Aryn closed her eyes against tears as he kissed her.

  She was going to deceive him. Even if she should want to hurt him, she did not. She knew him too well for that now. Somewhere in her heart, she understood that she would, truly, hurt him when she left—and she was going to. Or he was going to, when he found out what she’d done.

  She felt herself shiver. He was going to find out someday, and some part of her wanted to tell him now: that she wasn’t coming back, that she couldn’t stay, that she wouldn’t ever love a man who had done such things.

  But Ellian left before she could blurt out the words, and Cade came back to find her with her fingers brushing against her lips, remembering a kiss that had more desperation than she could understand. Ellian’s goodbye had seemed … final.

  Perhaps it was just her imagination. Today, Ellian was his normal self, businesslike and reserved. His black eyes darted to and fro, taking in the few people who moved through the private terminal. Watching for assailants, perhaps.

  “You don’t need to worry,” Aryn told him in an undertone.

  “Hmm?” He looked at her.

  “You’ve brought half the house guard.” She managed a smile, gesturing to where a dozen men in suits milled around them. “No one will hurt me here.”

  “Ah. Yes.” Ellian curved his lips in an approximation of a smile. Still, his eyes did not stop roaming the terminal.

  Aryn swallowed back her fear. She must be calm. She must stop him from looking, lest he see something he shouldn’t: namely, the crates the weapons Talon promised to bring aboard himself. The man had been surprisingly amenable, accepting the change without delay.

  He, too, she reminded herself, was an arms trafficker. He must be, to have secured the weapons. Perhaps that was why the name seemed to stick in her head, turning over and over. If he were one of Ellian’s associates, she would have heard of him before. She was glad she had used a pseudonym. She could not afford for him to tell Ellian what she was doing.

  And Ellian could not see Talon. If he knew the man…

  Something caught the edge of her vision, a small train of luggage carts. Three heavy crates sat half-hidden by the heavy plastic curtains, and Aryn reached out to take Ellian’s hand, turning him away. She needed to be careful. She needed to keep his attention for as long as it took.

  “It will be strange to leave. I’ll miss you.” She almost thought she meant it.

  “I will miss you as well.” His face was unreadable. “It has been a difficult few months. When you return, Aryn, will we start again, do you think? Can we?”

  No. She should tell him the truth.

  “I think so,” she lied, smiling up at him. “You have been troubled, Ellian. Has business been so bad?”

  He paused before answering, and she tried to hold his gaze. The crates were almost loaded. Only a few more moments….

  “I tire of being treated as a merchant is treated,” Ellian said at last. “We have risen so far, you and I. How dare they tell us we are not as good as they are?”

  “Who tells you such things?” It was a genuine question, startled out of her. New Arizona was composed of just such people as Ellian, who had pulled themsel
ves from the gutters of a dozen different worlds. No one here, surely, would look down on Ellian.

  His stony face, however, assured her that someone had. He paused, considering, then shook his head.

  “It need not concern you.”

  “Then I shall not be concerned.” Steeling herself, Aryn stood on tip-toe to kiss him as the last crate disappeared into the belly of the ship. “I should board now.”

  “At least let me walk you to the ship.” Now, at last, Ellian looked sad.

  “Of course.” Aryn tried not to let her questions show on her face. He had never been one for sentimentality before, but now his hand was locked around hers, squeezing her fingers until they ached; when she looked over, he was gazing straight ahead. He did not even seem to see the world before him. At the ramp, he kissed her again, his tongue sliding into her mouth, his fingers tangled in her hair, and she tried to hold herself still. She must not flinch. She closed her eyes against the sight of Cade looking away.

  At the top of the ramp, she waved before making her way into the gently curving passageways of the ship. They walked quickly, Cade still painfully silent, his green eyes fixed ahead of him. He had not slept well the night before, she could see—but then, neither had she. She had lain awake for what felt like half the night, wishing she’d had the courage to pull him down for a kiss, a real kiss. What would his lips feel like? What about the faint stubble on his cheeks? She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling her cheeks warm, hoping Cade would not notice and ask what was going on.

  Takeoff was quick, and Aryn laughed as her hair floated up around her shoulders before the artificial gravity kicked in. She felt free, more so than she could remember feeling in years. She was wearing pants for the first time in months, and not a speck of makeup, and as the transport banked away, something seemed to release in her chest. She looked over at Cade, and he smiled back at her.

  “You like flying?” He looked faintly green, poor man.

  “I’m just happy.” As the notification dinged and the artificial gravity switched on, she unhooked from her seat and watched him do the same.

  He prowled around the room, lifting the pillows and the mattress. A small cot had been set up for him at the foot of her bed and he examined that. He ran his fingers up the seams in the wall paneling, tapped at the lights, and paced the carpet in a pattern she could make neither head nor tail of. A thorough investigation of the ceiling turned up one loose panel, but nothing behind it. The taps and cupboards in the bathroom were all checked, as was the closet. A few scans from a handheld device, and Cade turned to her with a decisive nod.

  “All safe.” His smile died as he saw the look on her face. “What is it?”

  She swallowed. She’d promised herself she would tell him the truth and now was the best time. Now, she should come clean. He wouldn’t stop her, would he? He might even know something about Talon. He could tell her what would be best to do when they arrived on Ymir.

  She just didn’t want to tell him. She looked around herself, and then—realizing the possibility of listening devices—tapped her ear, a question in her eyes. He shook his head slightly.

  “You may speak freely.” He was waiting for something, she realized.

  She mentally prepared herself, standing straight, chin up, shoulders back. I’ve bought several crates of weapons and I’m going to give them to the resistance. I’ve bought several crates of weapons and I’m going to give them to the resistance. I’ve…

  Instead, as she walked toward him, her hands reached out to take hold of his suit. As if in a dream, she felt his arms slide around her, and he lifted her easily. His body hard against hers, her skin on fire for his touch, Aryn leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

  Thank you for reading Dragon’s Honor! I’d be incredibly grateful if you would leave a review on Amazon - it’s one of the best ways you can support authors!

  Read on for the acknowledgements and the first few chapters of Book 3, Dragon’s Hope.

  Already know you want it?

  Grab a copy HERE.

  Acknowledgments

  One thing you might not know about this series is that I started writing it a few years back, but with only one strand of the story. I put it away for a while, but I couldn’t let it go - and when I came back to it, some beta readers helped me figure out that I needed to be showing a lot more of what had been (until then) behind the scenes!

  Speaking of beta readers, a big round of applause for them! A big round of applause, also, for Michael Anderle, who continues to be an amazing resource and support, and who is working with me to create the Barnabas series I’m working on right now.

  And, as always, thank you to all of you. I love being able to share these stories with you, and I am always glad to hear from you. You can drop me a line at NatGreyAuthor at gmail dot com!

  Read on for the excerpt of Dragon’s Hope, or head back to the “Also by…” section for more reading material!

  Sincerely,

  Nat

  Dragon’s Hope

  By Natalie Grey

  1

  She was in his arms, eyes drifting closed as she kissed him. He had imagined the touch of her mouth for weeks, and now it consumed him, her lips parting under his, her body pressed close. He could smell the soap she used, the scent that had become more intoxicating to him than any liquor.

  And yet….

  “We can’t do this,” Cade murmured against her mouth.

  She shook her head, whether in protest or agreement he had no idea. When he set her down, however, she stood on tiptoe, one arm still around his neck to pull him down. The other palm burned against his chest like a brand. He wanted to sweep her into his arms again and deposit her on the bed, hear her shriek of laughter and feel her fingers fumble at the buttons of his shirt. He could feel, like a pleasant hallucination, how it would be to press her down onto the bed, her legs twining around his. She would reach up to hold his face while she kissed him. She would bite her lip when he pulled away to strip off his jacket—

  How he broke away, he did not know. His breath was ragged.

  “I—” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He needed to go, that was all. If he stayed….

  He needed to leave.

  And he might have pulled it off, too, if he hadn’t looked back at her as he strode to the door. She was standing as if in a dream, her fingers up to brush at her lips. He had never seen her look so peaceful—and he had never seen her look so sad, either. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, startlingly blue in this light, and she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “I have to leave.” It was a plea. He hoped she understood.

  “Wait.”

  His hand shook on the doorknob. He was going to go insane if he didn’t leave now, but her voice froze him.

  “I’m … I bought weapons.” The words came out very small. She looked at him as if he was supposed to know what that meant, and when his eyes roamed over her, searching for the distortion of knives or guns under her jacket, she shook her head impatiently. “For the resistance.”

  The world seemed to disappear. He could feel his hand on the doorknob, but beyond that there was only a rushing in his ears. He could see nothing. He was not thinking. There was only horror.

  “Cade?” Her voice jolted him back to awareness, and he looked over slowly.

  She swallowed, but she stood her ground. Her hands were in fists now.

  “What did you say?” Cade asked her, hoping against hope that he’d dreamed the past few seconds.

  “That was where I used the money I got from pawning my necklaces,” Aryn said simply. “You were right. I don’t gamble.”

  It was odd. Usually, solving puzzles pleased him—a mystery solved, part of the world revealed. And he’d solved truly awful puzzles before. Where were the slaves? Where were the drugs? Why was one man on the transport acting strangely? Solving puzzles meant facts, and facts meant he could act.

  Except, of cour
se, now. Now, he was filled with a blank sort of horror and a rising fury.

  “Cade? Please. Please say something.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” He gritted the words out from beneath clenched teeth. She couldn’t possibly have known that she was getting herself into, but good God, shouldn’t she have had at least the smallest inkling of it? Shouldn’t she have realized, if she thought for even a second, that she was getting in way over her head? That….

  But of course she hadn’t thought. She’d acted on impulse, like the pampered little trophy wife she was. She was sheltered from the worst of the Warlord’s excesses, Ellian had said, and clearly it was true. Someone ought to have told her before now, because she was going to learn her lesson very quickly.

  And she probably, he thought, wasn’t going to survive it. He felt entirely detached from the situation for a moment. What an unfortunate mistake on her part. She was going to die now.

  Then the world snapped back into place. She hadn’t known. This was the anger talking, the anger that always seemed to beat in his blood now, coming in a rush he could neither predict nor resist—only escape from by shoving it away and going cold.

  But he preferred that, both the anger and the detachment, because the alternative was the deep, yawning black and the deadening knowledge that he would spend the rest of his life like this, waiting and watching for danger, scanning the faces of the ones who passed him by in the street, even when every last one of them was oblivious, defenseless, no threat at all….

  And all the while, the gap between him and the world grew larger, year by year.

  Aryn was the one who had made him forget all of that. And now it turned out she was just like the rest of them.

  “Cade.” Her hand touched his arm, and he jerked away out of reflex. He sank his face into one hand, rubbing at his forehead.