I shrink away from the truth in his words.
But he’s right, I can’t hold back. It’s the only way out, even if that means hurting Jai. Hurting myself. If I want a better future for my sister, I need to tell him everything I know. After all, my goal is to help the rebels negotiate a treaty with the Guardians of Bombay, to find a safe place for our people in the East. And I must use everything I have at my disposal for that.
"The sword," I say. "You must use his sword to get what you want."
Mikhail stiffens and those peculiar silver-green eyes of his snap on me. He knows this is important, that he’s finally got something that will give him the upper hand over the Guardians.
"Tell me more," says Mikhail.
Chapter Twenty-Five
"Jai inherited the sword from his mother," I say. "Apparently it’s a potent weapon. And only Jai can unlock its real power. Something to do with his being the descendant of Catherine of Braganza," I add, my voice low.
"Power?" Mikhail asks, a thread of surprise running through his voice.
So this information is new for him. A pause as he takes it in. Then, "So what’s all this to do with us?" he asks.
Mikhail’s already joining the dots, sensing there’s still something important I’m not telling him.
I clamp down on the worry that leaps to life inside. I’m only doing this to help find a new home for my family and for my people.
Nevertheless, I choose my next words with care. "I know that the sword holds emotional value for him," I say.
"That’s good leverage." Mikhail nods. "But what else? What are you not telling us?"
I swallow and my eyes jerk back to his face. Mikhail’s so perceptive. He stares at me. Looks through me with those silver-green eyes. So clear they look like mirrors. Like they’re reflecting my thoughts back at me.
My eyes slide away, unable to hold his gaze, fixing on my hands, palms clasped, the knuckles so white I wonder why they don’t hurt more.
I just feel numb inside.
"Tell me everything," Mikhail commands. "You swore allegiance to us when you joined us, in return for protection."
I swear inwardly and swallow the irrational burst of fear that runs through me. I’m worried about Jai.
But why? Why even think of him when I’ve severed all connection? When there’s nothing between us now?
Pushing away all emotion, I narrow my eyes, meeting Mikhail’s pale gaze. "He promised his mother he would protect the city and he inherited her sword when he turned eighteen," I say.
"It runs in the family, the connection between the sword and their bloodline. It’s how his mother sparked off the tsunamis that destroyed much of the old world. The city of Bombay was wiped out almost completely," I add. "And the storms which laid waste to much of the United Kingdom too."
"You’re saying it’s because of that sword and its power that New Britain was born? All this," he gestures to the window, "this civil war, everything was sparked off in part due to that sword?"
His voice is calm but below that I sense a pulse of disbelief, something that gets my back up.
"I can only tell you what I heard," I say, trying to keep the defensiveness out of my voice. "I don’t think Jai has ever used the power of the sword. Not that way. He uses it like a normal weapon. I’m not even sure he believes he can tap into its power."
"You defending him now, Aria?"
My eyes dart to him.
"Just stating a fact is all," I say, striving for a normal voice. But it comes out strained, the words wobbling at the end.
This time when he speaks his voice is almost gentle. "It was a traumatic experience for you, living in Bombay, in the Jungle, one I’m sure you’d want to put behind you. But look around you. We’ve all had similar experiences."
He’s right of course.
I let go of a breath, getting a grip on the emotions tumbling inside me. When I meet his eyes this time, he nods, satisfied with whatever he reads in them.
"So, you understand why you need to tell us everything? We must make this plan as failsafe as possible. It’s the only chance we have. The future of this city is in your hands, Ariana," he says.
My heart beats faster and I want to scream at him and say, "Not fair. Don’t put that on my shoulders. Don’t ask me to go against him."
But of course I don’t do that.
For I must put Jai behind me.
I must wrap up my feelings for him and bury them somewhere deep inside so he can’t get to them. Where even I can’t reach them. In times of life and death there is no space for vulnerability.
Sensing the turmoil in me, that I need a little time to gather myself, he gets to his feet. Walking to the window, he shoves the old-fashioned pane up before lighting a thin cigar.
"Fringe benefits of the new world, eh? I can smoke where I want."
His voice is light, casual. It helps some of the tension slide from my shoulder. But I’m not fooled. He’s waiting for an answer. Sure enough when he turns to me there’s an unspoken question on his face.
And I know then I’m going to tell him everything I know about Jai.
Why not? Odds are I’m going to die soon anyway. If the shifters don’t get me the PM’s soldiers might.
My mind made up, I walk over to him and take one of the long brown sticks.
Lighting up, I inhale and cough. It tastes nice, though, a distinctive vanilla flavor. A brand that’s no longer in production but apparently rolled by locals in the city just for him as a kind of "thank you" for saving their family. Yeah! Mikhail has that kind of following here.
The cigarette is too strong for me so I’m content to just stand there and let it burn between my fingers, breathing in the rain-soaked air now mixed with cigarette smoke.
Mikhail takes the cigarette from me and after a last puff stubs it out on the windowsill.
"So how long have you been in love with him?" he asks and I start.
"I’m not—" I’m about to deny it and then I stop myself. Am I that transparent or it’s just that he can read me so well?
He’s not looking at me this time. Instead, he just stares out through the open window. Across the once pristine grounds now filled with a row of tents. Temporary shelters for people displaced by the war, and who insist on staying close to this building. The space doubles up as headquarters and living quarters of the rebels.
"It’s written all over your face," he says, his voice flat. This time when he looks at me, my breath catches in my throat.
Those silver-green eyes flare as if catching some inner light, glowing with suppressed emotion.
"Mikhail…" I hesitate, unsure what to say.
Anger leaps off him, harsh enough to make me take a step back.
"Micah, I had no choice," I say.
His face pales a little. I know my use of his nickname has affected him.
Closing the distance between us, he pulls me to him so quickly that I slam into his chest, my breasts flattening against his muscles. His lips slant over mine and I feel the hurt, the anger, the helplessness bleed out of him.
My heart rams in my chest and I freeze.
I can feel my own pulse thunder at the base of my throat where it slams against his skin. Shut my eyes tight but don’t…can’t…push him away.
I don’t respond, either, just stay there as he ravages my mouth, drinks from me as if he knows already that he can never have me, but can’t let me go either. I’d known he liked me and hadn’t done anything to consciously lead him on.
But you’re still here, aren’t you? And it’s so tempting to just lean in. Lean on him for a while longer. Since Jai, I haven’t looked at anyone. Or felt attracted to anyone. Not remotely. Not till Mikhail. And only because I sense some of that strength, that flavor, so much like Jai, in him. But there’s more in Mikhail, a bitter darkness. And I know if I let him too close it could engulf me too.
So I don’t say anything. Or even move. Just stay in the circle of his arms, letting my body go quiet.
My stillness finally gets through and he slows down, coaxing my lips with his, brushing them again and again and again until they part almost of their own accord. My teeth touch his lips by accident and then he’s raising his head and I notice his chest rise-fall-rise as if he’s having difficulty staying in control. His hand squeezes my shoulder once before it falls to the side. But he doesn’t move away. Not even when I feel his arousal thrust against my waist. Not even when my cheeks flush.
He just stares at my mouth and I steel myself for him to kiss me again.
But he moves back, fists clenched at his side. A pulse beats at his forehead. He’s about to say something. Then, turning away with a curt "sorry," he’s gone.
I stand there for a few seconds more, letting the breeze cool my fevered skin, wondering what I’m feeling right now.
When I try to pull down the window pane it stays stuck open
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jai curses under his breath, and walks back-forth-back, pacing in front of the window. It’s been left open to let in the biting wind. Jai had tried to shut it but to no avail.
It’s stuck. No doubt, on purpose just so he can freeze his balls off while waiting to be given an audience by His Royal Highness Mikhail himself.
Of course, the monarchy no longer exists in New United Kingdom. They are gone, having fled at the first signs of civil unrest.
Four years ago the people had decided to storm against the authoritarian right wing party which had ruled the country for almost a decade. The prime minister had put all of the state’s muscle behind the army and dispatched soldiers to take control of London. The last straw was the collapse of all the government-funded support systems, leaving the people to fend for themselves. Mikhail had been one of them, until he’d defected and formed the Rebel Alliance.
The Alliance Jai is going to negotiate with.
He’s here to exchange "best practices" with them. As the new Chief Commander of the Council’s Army it falls to him to take on this mission.
After Aria left, the refugees continued to arrive from the West in large numbers. And his uncle had ordered the troops to fire on the helpless people in the hope that this would dissuade them. His father had intervened. And they’d agreed that Jai could go in person. His goal: to negotiate a settlement with New United Kingdom.
And now Jai’s here. And a part of him wonders if all this is just an excuse to meet Aria again.
He runs his fingers through his hair before letting them fall to his side. His fingers look for the sword that he’s taken to carrying in a scabbard. It’s second nature now and he’s long stopped thinking about its power. It’s a weapon. And he’s used it against many a shifter. They’ve taken his gun too and he feels a little naked now without any of his weapons on him.
Then the door opens and he stiffens, steeling himself before rising to greet the new arrivals.
The giant with broad shoulders and tattoos which cover almost every inch of his skin is obviously not Mikhail. So it must be the dark-skinned, pale-eyed guy with dark brown hair next to him. He’s almost as tall as the giant, just leaner. There’s no trace of spare fat on him as if he’s corded in muscle through and through.
And those eyes just fix on Jai and stay there. He comes forward, no trace of emotion on his face.
"The weather’s not too much of a shock to you I hope?" the man asks in a clipped British accent. Polite. Too polite. Almost sarcastic.
Trying not to grimace, Jai puts out a hand. "Mikhail, I assume?" he asks.
The other guy doesn’t shake his proffered hand, pointedly folding his arms across his chest.
"So what’s your proposal?" he asks, pointedly not asking Jai to sit.
So that’s how it’s going to be is it? Jai grimaces. His jaw hardens but his voice is even when he talks. "We want to reinstate ties with your country," he says. "We’ll allow for safe passage for your citizens into Bombay 2, a satellite city being built next to the main city to house the refugees."
If he’s surprised, Mikhail doesn’t show it. Putting down his own cup he leans back, folding his arms. "And what do you want in return?"
"Rare earth metals," Jai says, his voice bland.
"Ah!" Understanding dawns on Mikhail’s face.
Jai nods. "We want access to the metals and at a reasonable price of course."
"So why come to us?" Mikhail asks, his voice polite, clipped. "Go to the government. We are just rebels."
"Are you?" Jai asks. "You guard a mine now fully functional and producing the metals in the north of your country. In New Scotland."
Mikhail’s eyes narrow, Jai notes with grim satisfaction.
"We know you’re mining the metals on behalf of the government," he adds.
"So go to the government and ask them," Mikhail replies with bored disinterest.
"Come, come," Jai chuckles, his voice matching the smoothness of Mikhail’s. "Why go to them when I’m here, meeting you. And you do have the ear of the PM don’t you?"
Mikhail’s jaw hardens. If he’s surprised that Jai knows so much, he doesn’t show it.
He finally says, his voice cautious, "How much do you want?"
"1 per cent of the production. Enough to suit our needs. Small enough to go unnoticed."
Mikhail folds his hand, looking straight at Jai, who forces himself not to react to those burning blue orbs. The rest of Mikhail’s features stay calm, frozen.
"I’ll need to check back with my team members," he says, his voice flat.
Jai tilts his head, his face mirroring Mikhail’s lack of emotions. "We need to know right away, I’m afraid. Time is of essence as you may well understand," he says.
Mikhail hesitates. When Jai stares back unrelenting, he nods. Once. "Excuse me," he says, getting up from the table to walk to the window.
With his back to the room, he pulls out his phone. So the leader of the rebel alliance has a mobile phone.
Well, of course, he heads the team mining for rare earth metals; the single most important component needed for electronic communication including mobile phones.
The 2014 tsunamis that'd swept through parts of India, laid waste to China. The earth’s very crust had seemed to move, being manifested as earthquakes in California, Brazil and Australia. The result? Mines around the world shutting down and a growing shortage of metals, especially rare earth metals.
Since then, the use of electronic devices, including the internet and mobile devices of any kind, has been very restricted. Limited to essential services like defense and healthcare in most countries.
Unless of course you're considered important enough by the government of your country to be given one. Or you have the connections to source it from the black market. Which Mikhail obviously does. Besides he has access to all the rare metals he wants, given he’s excavating the precious resources.
Mikhail’s voice is too low-pitched for Jai to make out the words. Instead he turns his attention to the only other person in the room. The wrestler-like tank of a man who's been sitting silent all through. He stays that way. Not a change of expression on his face.
"Who is he talking to?" Jai asks him.
When there’s no reply, Jai grimaces. He turns his attention back to the man by the window.
With reluctance he notices how tall Mikhail is again. He’s at least six feet five inches and well built; his shoulders blocking out the light from the window. Then Mikhail turns back to the room, and without moving from the window, nods.
"Fine, 1 per cent it is," he says. Then he asks, his voice still deceptively polite, "Is that all?"
But Jai’s not fooled. He hears the veiled threat in those words. He reaches for his cup of tea, pleased that his hand is firm.
"Also, I’d like one of your team members to accompany me back," he says, his voice casual.
Mikhail frowns, but before he can speak, Jai holds up his palm, his gesture authoritative.
"After years of our two countries not seeing eye to eye, your words don’t me
an much, as you may well understand," he says.
Mikhail nods slowly.
"You mean a hostage?" he finally asks, his voice harsh.
No change of expression but Mikhail’s hand grips the teacup so tight, the skin of his knuckles stretches white.
Jai replies, his voice conciliatory. "It’s just to make sure you don’t change your mind. Surely you understand how that is?"
His voice is soothing and the words come out fast, so smooth that Mikhail’s eyes whip to his face.
"Besides it will help to have a familiar voice be our liaison with the refugees. Who better than someone who’s been a refugee herself? To convince your people that they can trust us, that Bombay 2 is their rightful home."
At that, Mikhail moves so fast he’s almost a blur. Before Jai can react he’s around the table and collaring Jai, hauling him to his feet. But Jai has already pulled out a knife strapped to his ankle. He holds the blade to Mikhail’s throat.
Mikhail’s breathing fast, his chest rising and falling, and on his face, anger and something else. An emotion Jai can’t quite grasp. Behind him the tattooed guy is motionless, his body coiled, ready to jump, his eyes rapt on Jai.
When Mikhail doesn’t show any sign of releasing him, Jai presses the knife with enough force to break his skin.
A trickle of blood rolls down his throat and the tattooed giant behind them shifts. Jai has no doubt that he’s going to take him down at the first available opportunity.
Then Mikhail lets go of Jai’s collar.
In the same instant, the breath whooshes out of Jai, who moves the knife away from the other man’s throat. And the tattooed giant at the entrance moves so fast that before Jai can take a step back, he’s standing between Jai and Mikhail, his massive hands gripping Jai’s neck. Enough for Jai to know he can twist Jai’s neck off right then.
No one speaks and Mikhail still looks livid. Then he says, his voice sharp enough to cut, "Release him, Samoen."
The giant hesitates, stays as is, and this time Mikhail says, his voice calmer, a bitter undertone to it. "We can’t kill him. Not yet."
Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 135
