by Hotter Edge
But his gaze darted toward the sealed door, worry tensing his features again.
He knew who sent the assassin. Of course he did.
Well, at least Reina’s job would be made easier. A little warning next time would be nice, though.
But the welcome celebration was more pressing at the moment. The Frusts already waited outside, and the roar of the crowd was audible from inside her boudoir.
“We need to talk about my family.” He spoke as if even the preamble required carefully chosen words.
She’d met most of his family on Sol, during the formal ceremony. Or thought she had. Never mind, together they could handle anything. “Every family has some interesting characters.”
His lips twitched—recovering from electrocution or betraying acute tension?
“Yes, well, these characters might have just tried to kill you.”
Ah. She wrinkled her nose playfully to conceal the edge that cut into her mood. “And who in particular do I thank for this episode?”
***
As Hakan raised his arms, media bobs whirling around him, the Hub population below the dais cheered their welcome. After the procession from the residence, the spectators had surged into the thoroughfare like devouring floodwaters. The sound of their excitement shook the marble slab under his feet. This section of the Nyer Hub promoted the excess for which Frust was known: wide open spaces dominated by natural Earth materials. A massive oak tree, always in leaf, grew in the center, its boughs reaching over the centers of commerce where the business of the sector was conducted.
The Hub was full to capacity again, so much so that the stream of arriving vessels had to now forgo docking and use shuttles to go back and forth from their stall in space to the city.
Pilar stepped up beside him, resplendent in a body-caressing glitter gown of silvery gold mica. The Sol family had its pride. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, glossy and wild. Her high-bladed shoes put them eye-to-eye, but now her gaze flashed with the knowledge that some of the people gathered in the semicircle behind them wanted the breath of life vacuumed out of her lungs.
She’d taken it very well, Hakan thought. Frusts didn’t just have enemies, they were the enemy too. He’d thought conflict had been averted by the marriage. He’d thought that he’d outmaneuvered his family and that all that was left was injured pride. He’d thought he’d won. That his uncle had acted against Pilar sent violent shocks of anger along Hakan’s nerves. He’d just told Barton that Pilar was off limits; his uncle needed to be informed as well. The contracts had been signed, vows spoken. It was done.
…a love story to make any heart swoon…
The media bobs were hard at work transmitting every moment of the event, commentary included, to the far reaches of the sector. After the ceremony on Sol, this ritual was required to honor the groom’s family. Tradition was respected at every turn. The marriage was critical for the sector, formalities carefully observed.
…the Sol family’s mica mines, sheets of rare solyite, or red mica, used in the engines of deepspace vessels…
…Pilar Sol, worth a fortune…
The Frust family argument over control of Nyer had raged these past two years, but the Nyer Hub was Hakan’s by right of inheritance, and now via the marriage, he could assume fiscal responsibly as well. Uncle Victor and Barton were out.
At least Pilar had been tutored at length about the internal squabbles of corp families, and in this at least, Hakan’s family was no different. That they were willing to take criminal and proactive steps was a little more unique; an assassin upon her arrival, for example. Gods, this was a nightmare.
…the princess will now turn and make her obeisance to the Frust family…
…signifies that she will serve Frust with her life, for the rest of her life…
Hakan didn’t know how Pilar was going to manage the required deep curtsy on the blades of her ridiculous footwear, but gods knew if anyone could manage the latest fashions, it was she.
She turned to face his family, spiders, all of them. Uncle Victor, and his ninth wife, seventeen-year-old Candance. Then his adult children, a bruised Barton, Olivia, Tatianna, Serum, and Filip. The minor Frusts waited in back of the primary circle, children squirming in their dress clothes. Well, this would be quick.
The seconds ticked by, but Pilar didn’t bend, which made Hakan warm with affection. She seemed to relish the moments when all of the sector’s attention was fixed on her. Her place was in the center of the light; the Hub would brighten with her in residence. Her chin went up, her full lips stretching into a confident smile.
And then she turned back around to face a stunned crowd.
She hadn’t bowed.
Shock froze him in place. For a moment he was just like one of the many who’d come to glimpse the royal Sol. Dazed.
…terrible mistake…
…Hakan will remind her; perhaps they planned to bow together…
…service is the standard credo of the royal families…
Pilar held out her hand for him to take. With the gesture, he startled back into awareness. After the bow, they were supposed to descend the steps of the dais to greet the people who had the rank or wealth to wish them well in person. And beyond, the masses of spectators crammed into the center, Peace holding them back with stun-sticks and forbidding expressions.
Hakan drew a shallow breath and fitted her smaller palm in his, but he didn’t move forward. Pilar had just simultaneously disregarded tradition and publicly insulted his family, his uncle in particular. And she was asking her husband to accept it.
…has she forgotten?…
…her xenobiologist sister Mica is said to be the smart one…
…unforgivable...
…surely an apology will follow…
No, it would not. His family had sent an assassin to welcome Pilar. How did they expect her to react? They expected her to submit and die. And she’d just declined the invitation.
Gods, the woman was made of fire.
Hakan drew his wife closer to him and took the lesson. His plan needed to be modified; the problem of succession wouldn’t be solved without a fight. If they were going to go down—and his uncle and his hellish progeny wanted that very much—Hakan would no longer observe the niceties either, not even the public ones. Tradition meant nothing. Formalities were a pain in the ass anyway. The sector would survive without them.
This was war, and Pilar had just thrown down the gauntlet.
He couldn’t have loved her more. When they approached the city commissioner, not even a glance over their shoulders, Hakan was burning with pride.
He shook the man’s hand. “Jarrod! I’ve a box of Mathean cigars with our name on it.”
Pilar had to have known embarrassing his uncle would be like baiting a shark, one who’d already tried to eat her. Was she that reckless? Or did his wife simply enjoy being the center of drama and scandal—she had, after all, staged the very public discovery of the two of them in bed. Not that he was complaining; the gambit had solidified his bid for her hand. Or was she motivated by something else?
He had no idea. He’d fallen for the wild, impulsive beauty too quickly to learn the shades of her reasoning.
He’d fight, yes, he’d been fighting already in a more civilized way. But he would not risk her. Not even for her money. And if he couldn’t anticipate what she would do and why, he couldn’t keep her safe.
She’d unforgivably insulted his family. Thank the gods. The tension sparking along his nerves eased. He had an excuse to get her away from here. Out of harm’s way.
He’d be putting Pilar on a transport off the Hub at his first opportunity. He’d send her home like so much baggage, post haste, as if she’d just insulted him, too.
***
“I’m supposed to talk some sense into you,” Mica said over the comm, frustration in her tone. Her multidimensional figure was less distinct, filtered as it was by only-Reina-knew-how-many data protocols. Mica was cast in purple, teeth a
frightening silver, aged a million years by the popping pixels.
Mica was the original Sol hell-raiser. Pilar had learned from the best. Their parents must be very desperate to resort to speaking through big sis.
Calls from home had bombarded all of Pilar’s comms, as well as those of her staff, poor Reina, before the ceremony had even ended. Apparently her behavior reflected on her family, her people, the whole Sol world. Didn’t matter that she was now a Frust.
“Hakan supports me.” She removed the heavy diamond earrings from her aching lobes and dropped them on her vanity. The baubles were lovely. The fact that they were heirlooms from Earth gave them their worth. The stones themselves were common throughout the sector.
“Was that what that was? Support?” Mica drawled. “Father is still railing about your husband’s inability to control you. He says Hub life has already gone to your head. That unchecked you will cause irreparable damage to Sol-Frust contracts. That his daughters—including me, so thank you for that—do not know humility.”
Hakan would never try to control her. He loved her independent streak, or would once he was better acquainted with it. And the rest? The Hub couldn’t go to her head if she had yet to drink of its enticements, which had been made all the more difficult by the Frust family. And she wasn’t going to concern herself with business dealings in which she had no voice. And as for humility, she was only too willing go down on bended knee…for Hakan.
“You’ve got to take me at my word.” Pilar wiggled first one foot, then the other out of her shoes. She lost two decimeters in height. “I cannot, will not, should not, apologize.”
Pilar glanced at the time. Reina had scheduled an hour for rest, and then Pilar had to attend a banquet thrown by her offended in-laws. She’d hoped that Hakan would join her in bed.
“Is there trouble?” Mica’s voice got harder.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Frust was her new family and she would fight her way into it.
A sigh, then a long pause, followed by, “Pia, baby, how about I come? If you want to insult the Frusts, I’d rather you do it with me beside you.”
The ‘baby’ part was the problem. “Hakan is beside me. And this is my moment.”
Mica, firstborn and heir to Sol holdings, had had so many moments of her own that Pilar felt as substantial as a sun-sparkle on a cloudy day.
Silence again, but it wasn’t empty. Pilar knew that Mica understood. Maybe that’s why she’d called her baby. Her sister had had to offer; their father would’ve demanded it…and maybe he stood right there.
“If that’s your decision,” Mica finally said, but the phrasing was borrowed from someone else.
Yeah, their father was right there. Pilar could almost see his face growing red with frustration.
She lifted her voice. “I’ll be all right, Father.”
“Gods,” her father swore across the comm. “You’ve both always been impossible.”
Mica laughed. “He can’t say I didn’t try. Pia, I’ll call back later.”
“You do that.” The comm cut off.
A wiggle and the elaborate gown fell from her shoulders and pooled in a glittering puddle on the carpet. She stepped out of it and headed for the bed in her chemise. A quick catnap, followed by a shot of Vibe, and she could entertain for the next ten hours. The Frusts should simply let her schedule kill her; no need to send an assassin. She still couldn’t believe they’d go to such lengths, no matter what the argument. She’d expect an attack from rebels, rival business concerns, alien intelligence…but family?
Father would have her marriage annulled if he knew. And she wasn’t giving up Hakan, not for anything.
She pulled the satin coverlet up to her shoulders and arched her back. The cool sheets were heaven on her skin after the heat of bearing her gown for so long. Bed was bliss, even without her husband. She turned on her side and hugged her pillow. “Sleep.” And she felt instantly groggy. She could fight the impulse, and the effect would wear off, or she could close her eyes and let exhaustion take her into oblivion.
She let go.
And only stirred when Hakan’s arm came around her—his warmth, his smell, a sense of comfort and security that deepened with every night. She snuggled back into his body and was disappointed to find that he was sitting up halfway. He caressed her hair away from her face, but she refused to open her eyes. “Five more minutes.”
Here they were simply Hakan and Pilar. She loved noise, but this went beyond noise. She was happy.
“I’m so sorry, love.”
She whimpered and did a rapid calculation in her head. Dressing. Hair. Make-up. “I can spare the time.” Besides, Reina always built in her own five minutes, which meant Pilar could really sleep for ten.
“Okay. You rest now, sweetheart.”
But her mind was already turning. If she had ten minutes and the company of her husband, there was something else she’d prefer to do. The schedule was unforgiving, even cruel for newlyweds. A nice block of time should’ve been set aside every day for sex.
She turned onto her back to look up at him. He was frowning, chin to chest.
The obeisance thing. Had to be. And here she’d thought he understood that she couldn’t bow to the people who wanted her dead, wanted Hakan’s line to end with him. Yes, a private screw-you might have been wiser. But the way Hakan had held her after, she’d been certain he agreed. She would not ‘obey,’ not even symbolically.
She attempted to push up onto her elbows, but the motion was curiously difficult. Her arms wouldn’t work. A cold wave of sludge went through her brain, too. And now that she was breathing more deeply, she caught the smell of smoke. All were symptoms she recognized from Reina’s long-winded lessons.
“I’ve been drugged,” she slurred. His family had tried again. Hakan had to get help.
But he remained still, his brows coming together. Sadness in his eyes. Resolution in the clench of his jaw. “It won’t hurt you.”
A black void was sucking her down into a nothingness far deeper than sleep.
Her throat was parched, closing. She grabbed for one of his arms to hold her, to stop her fall, and he brought her close, her head on his chest. His heart boomed under her ear.
“Save me.” Her vision was dimming.
“I am,” he answered.
Chapter Two
“We’re waiting, boy,” Victor said into Hakan’s earpiece. The old man would be seated at the head of the banquet table by now, thousands of white orchids trailing down its sixty-guest length. Cost was no obstacle to his uncle, not anymore. And not because of Pilar’s dowry. His uncle had made other financial arrangements in order to challenge Hakan’s succession.
The entire Frust family would be present at the supper, putting on a good face after Pilar’s insult. Dignitaries, aristocrats, traders, and celebrities would be taking their places, media bobs transmitting the event for the sector’s entertainment.
Hakan attempted to answer minus the strain of his current physical effort. “If you did anything to her…” he threatened. A ploy to buy himself time.
“What do you mean—?” Then, a growl, “Barton!”
Exactly the reaction Hakan wanted. With a mental command, he cut the call and picked up his pace across the bay. He knew exactly how this would play out: Victor would demand answers from his firstborn. A quiet word to a few more people, and one of the Frusts would stand to consult with their security detail. Other commands would be made to locate Princessa Pilar Gloria Estrella Sol-Frust. By then, she’d be on her way.
Pilar became awkward in Hakan’s arms as he attempted to key into the flyer, so he folded her over his shoulder, a hand to the curve of her lovely hip. His hands had been made to guide her hips, damn it.
The firebird was a small vessel, flashy and fast. He’d won it in a game of Bones, but had kept the ident-tag in the loser’s name. The loser was about to be in a lot more trouble.
Hakan turned away from the neuro of the firebird and moved into the
belly—the rosy hue of the luxury wood walls inside the neck of the vessel arched for the cabin—wherein Reina glared at him from above her gag. She was seated on the floor, hands and ankles bound. Her wrists were smudged with blood from her efforts to get free, which he regretted, but Hakan had to be very careful to make certain that the security specialist was restrained.
“She’s fine,” Hakan told Reina. “But I can’t be married to her, not after how she insulted my family.”
He had to make them both angry, so that they wouldn’t fight to stay. Pilar always got what she wanted. Not this time.
“You’re heading back to Sol.” Where Pilar would be out of reach. The Hub was no place for her, not anymore. His uncle had either grown too confident, or his new partners were now acting on his behalf. Pilar had to get out now, so that Hakan could settle the matter without her in the middle of the conflict. He would not risk her life, and with her associated pax and connections, she was his uncle’s primary target.
He laid his wife carefully on the floor grate, not the pallet. She was born for the soft things in life, but he had to send her a message: she’d put him in the position of choosing between her or his family, and he was choosing his family. Her pride would make certain that he’d never see her again, but her vanity would recover eventually. And Sol would win hefty concessions from Frust. Whatever they wanted, Hakan would sign.
He went into the neuro of the bird and set the course for Sol, locking Reina and Pilar out of the command string for both telemetry and communication. The journey would be a miserable thirty hours, but once in Sol space, they’d be able to take over and get the necessary permissions to proceed to the surface. Pilar was adored at home. Outrage on her behalf would soothe his betrayal.
He exited the firebird as its engines began to hum, and he made for the gate so that the bay would sense the all-safe and open the airlock to permit the vessel to launch.
The low tone assigned to his uncle sounded in his ear.
