Warlord's Wager

by Gwynn White

  Heron was the first to clamber into the cabin. He turned toward the sleeping compartment, where Axel lay, chest rattling.

  “So it’s true?” Heron asked in passable Chenayan. Owning two-thirds of the world ensured that Chenayan was spoken throughout the empire. “The bastard is dying.” Excitement trilled in his voice. He reached back for his machete.

  Stefan wasn’t taking any chances on Heron helping Axel along. He gripped Heron’s arm. “That’s my best friend lying there,” he said without raising his voice. “So unless you want this to end very badly, you will keep your hands where I can see them.”

  “I knew we couldn’t trust you.”

  Heron’s hate-filled face reminded Stefan of Lynx. This was exactly how she had looked when he first saw her in Tanamre before the wedding. As unlikely as that sounded, she had become his friend. Perhaps it was possible to win Heron over, too. But first he had to protect Axel.

  Stefan tightened his grip. “Lynx spoke to me of you. Trust me, as much as I like her, I will not let her friendship with you get in the way of my quest here.”

  Heron’s body sagged at the mention of Lynx’s name. “Where is she?” The longing in his voice was obvious.

  Stefan let out a soft breath. Heron had feelings for her. Romantic ones. That would complicate things. Was it impossible for anything to go right today?

  “Yes, where’s my sister?” Clay asked, also in Chenayan. He jumped over the wooden lip into the pod.

  They were brother and sister? That explained a lot. Stefan turned to Malek. No image of Lynx blossomed in the air above the console.

  All the blood rushed from Stefan’s face. He grabbed Malek’s shoulder. “Dragon’s ass! How hard is it to get this right?”

  “You tricked us! She’s not here,” Clay hissed. Both he and Heron went for their machetes.

  “Wait!” Stefan cried, both for his guardsmen's benefit and theirs. “It’s technology being difficult.” Even as he spoke, he knew Heron and Clay wouldn’t understand.

  His guardsmen watched him for the order, alert as dogs on a scent. Stefan shook his head in the negative, telling them to stand down.

  “Get the empress up,” he snarled at Malek.

  “Empress?” Clay asked.

  “Yes. Empress.” Arms folded, Stefan faced the two raiders with an unflappable mask.

  From their dumbfounded expressions, neither had heard about the assassination nor Lynx’s ascent to the throne.

  “Gentlemen, the show will start soon.” Stefan could only guess at how these steam-age men would cope with being catapulted into a world of holograms and human projection.

  He hoped it would not be violent.

  Chapter 3

  Lynx thumped the ceramic, button-shaped informa down onto the mahogany dresser, unable to believe that the damn thing wasn’t working. She had been moments away from speaking to Clay and Heron when the . . . what did Tao call it? The link between them and the airship broke.

  In her twenty years, she’d never fathomed the things she’d seen in the past few days here in Cian—informas, airships, electricity.

  Tao gently prized the informa from her hands. “Violence is not the answer with sensitive technology.” A crooked smile robbed the words of their sting.

  “Tao, you tell her that.” Kestrel reclined like a queen on her bed, while Malika—Axel’s younger sister—applied henna to her hand. Kestrel had her blond hair curled in the latest palace fashion, a beaded gown of the finest pink silk draping her petite frame. “My sister never listens to my advice.”

  Kestrel carried on speaking, but Lynx blotted her out. The master bedroom in Tao and Kestrel’s apartment befitted a crown prince. A huge four-poster bed, draped in blue velvet with gold fleur-de-lis, dominated the plush room. Murals, predominately of Tao’s falcon, Bird, covered the cream-colored walls. A few books, forbidden to anyone outside the Avanov family, lay piled on the mahogany pedestals at each side of the bed.

  Apart from her books, Kestrel, Lynx’s newly wed younger sister, had yet to make her mark on the space.

  Tao had suggested it was the only place in the palace where they would not be monitored. Lynx hoped he was right, and not just for all the obvious reasons, either.

  Tao used his fingers to brush across lines of meaningless text—to her, at least—floating in the air above the informa.

  She lifted tired eyes to his. “Any luck?”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone was jamming it.”

  “My father?” Malika looked up from the intricate henna design she inked on Kestrel’s hand. Unlike blond, blue-eyed Tao, Malika had more typical Chenayan features: flawless olive skin, a mass of natural dark curls, and chocolate-brown eyes. She hadn't put down her brush since Alex and Stefan left three days ago. Painting twirls must have calmed her. “Surely he wouldn’t do that? He’s as worried about Axel as we are.”

  “Then who else?” Lynx asked.

  Malika shrugged. “Tao, what do you think?”

  It took a moment for Tao to reply. “No one else.” He sounded distracted

  “What I wouldn’t give to march down to Felix’s lair and punch him,” Lynx murmured as she paced through the bedroom to the private sitting room and then back again. The need to punish him had burned within her ever since Felix, the Lord of the Household and Axel’s father, had set in motion the assassination that had resulted in Axel’s injury.

  Malika hissed in a breath. “No, Lynx! It was a testament to how panicked everyone was after Axel’s shooting that my father let you get away with that slap. He won’t be so accommodating the second time around.”

  Lynx stopped at the bed and squeezed Malika’s shoulder. “I’m just venting. I am well aware that your father is a formidable enemy.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “He did plot to murder me, after all.” She shot a look at Tao, who was still busy working on the link, and slumped against the silk-covered wall. “I still have to deal with Lukan, too. The two of us have a curse to fulfill.”

  “If we ever see him again,” Kestrel said with a sigh.

  Lynx detected a faint trace of wistfulness in her sister’s voice—enough to send a shimmy of fear through her. Her sister was the one person in this room whose loyalty Lynx doubted. Sadness swamped her.

  Tao looked up from his programming. “Kestrel, I told you, he’s waiting for the Fifteen to gather from the satrapies. The empire is a big place, you know. These things take time.”

  Kestrel rolled her eyes, but Lynx ignored her. Right now, she had more important things to fret about than Kestrel’s self-made marriage woes.

  Tao yelped. “Got it!”

  Lynx spun and saw a flickering image of guardsman’s face. It vanished.

  Tao sighed. “Had it.”

  “Just keep trying. Please.”

  Lynx started to pace again. She had done at least ten circuits of her sister’s apartment when Tao called her in a cautious voice. She skidded into the bedroom—and, this time, spotted Heron and Clay standing in what looked like the inside of a dragon with clear glass eyes. She blinked in surprise.

  “Inside the hatch on the airship,” Tao explained. “It’s shaped like a dragon.”

  “Of course it is.”

  Two guardsmen with jasper ice crystals next to their eyes flanked Clay and Heron. Lynx wasn’t surprised, given the open hostility on the raiders’ faces.

  Kestrel and Malika looked up from their painting job, but Kestrel’s attention quickly drifted back to her hands. Malika’s brown eyes stayed glued to the image. Probably hoping for a glimpse of Stefan.

  “Winds! Tao, you did it.” Lynx almost sobbed with relief.

  “Plead with your father first. Then I’ll set Kestrel up to speak.” Tao positioned Lynx in front of the informa so the camera could capture and transmit her image.

  “And me with Stefan?” Malika asked, looking hopeful.

  “If the signal holds, of course.” Tao moved to join Kestrel and Malika on the bed.

  Lynx held th
e informa as if her life depended on it. “You’re there,” she gushed at Clay and Heron. “Really there! Can you see me?” She shot a look at Tao for confirmation.

  Tao nodded. “The signal’s stable. For now. But talk quickly, in case—”

  She didn’t wait for him to finish speaking. “Clay! Heron!”

  They stared at her. Frightened eyes jittered in their sockets, and bemused expressions settled on their faces. Lynx brightened and gave a small whoop at the feathers and beads in Clay’s hair. A beautiful, cherished sight. He had won his egg!

  The happiness quickly died. Instead of singing with joy, her heart moaned a lament in her breast. She had earned him the right to a second egg raid by promising to marry Lukan. An oath she had yet to finalize. Winds knew, maybe the threat hanging over her life was punishment for her failure.

  She brushed the debilitating thought aside and smiled at two of her most favorite people in the whole world. “Isn’t this amazing? We can see each other.”

  Both Clay and Heron gaped. Heron shot a disbelieving look at Stefan.

  Lynx started at the colonel’s appearance. His usually impeccable uniform was disheveled and stained with sweat. His dark eyes were bloodshot and his broad shoulders bowed, blaring his exhaustion, all telling displays from a man whose expression was usually inscrutable.

  He managed a patient smile at the two raiders. Lynx understood. She had been just as shocked when she’d seen her first image projected by an informa a few days before.

  Stefan waved at Lynx. “Are we ever pleased to see you!”

  All thoughts but Axel disappeared from Lynx’s mind. “How is he? Please say he’s still alive.”

  Stefan’s face settled into its usual mask. “For now. But we do need your help.”

  Lynx focused on Clay. “Does Father know about Axel? Has he agreed to help?”

  Still looking befuddled, Clay brushed his braids and feathers off his face.

  Lynx grinned. “Don’t you look smart? I knew you could do it.” Her smile vanished. “Has the healer looked at him yet? Time’s running out for him.”

  Heron stepped forward, mouth working although no sound came out. He bumped into something—the control panel, maybe? The image flickered and died.

  “Tao, help,” Lynx squealed.

  Before Tao reacted, the image was up again and Heron had taken a step back. It didn’t improve his expression. Outraged was the best—and only—word Lynx could think of to describe his face.

  “You are not seriously asking us to heal Avanov, are you?” Heron demanded, voice bleeding incredulity.

  Lynx flinched. Of course he—they—would see it like this. They didn’t know and love Axel the way she did. It was time to plead. Not something Lynx did well.

  “I know it seems crazy, Heron, but I—”

  How could she tell Heron, of all people, that she loved Axel? It would break his heart. In fact, how could she tell any of the Norin that she loved Axel? Not when she had an unfulfilled oath hanging over her. And when everyone hated him with such justifiable passion.

  She tried again. “It will ensure my safety if he is healed.”

  It was partly true. Maybe Felix would look more kindly on her if she saved his son.

  The suspicion on Heron’s face and Clay’s cleared. Clay shot Stefan a hate-filled glare.

  Another flinch spasmed her. Stefan didn’t deserve that. Not when he was so kind—and in love with her friend, Malika. But Lynx knew that nothing she could say would change how her brother felt. She just hoped she hadn’t made things worse for Axel and Stefan.

  How her world had shifted! If someone had told her she would be pleading to her own people to help a Chenayan, she would never have believed it. Forget that, she would have sliced them open with her machete.

  Clay turned back to her. Eyes filled with longing, he reached out and touched her image. His fingers passed through the light. He dropped his hand. “Your feathers? They’ve—”

  “Gone,” Lynx replied, swallowing hard. Mother Saskia cutting off her braid still grated. “Clay, please, get Axel to the healer. And . . . and call Father. I really want to speak to him.”

  “Love you, Lynxie. Keep safe there,” Clay whispered. He turned away, saying to Stefan, “Can your men lower Avanov down?”

  Stefan sagged with relief. He spun toward people Lynx could not see and commanded them to get Axel onto the ground. She called out to him that she wanted to be alone to speak to her father.

  In the bustle, Lynx became aware that Heron hadn’t moved. His blue eyes fixed on hers as if they were standing skin to skin. “Has . . . everything changed?”

  He was holding back. Lynx knew Heron too well to be fooled.

  “Everything changed the day I left you in Tanamre,” she said as gently as she could. “You knew that.”

  “Lukan . . .” The unasked question hung in the air.

  “Our marriage is not yet consummated.”

  Heron sagged in much the same way Stefan had. His misplaced relief broke her heart.

  She could not lie to him. “Axel is dear to me, Heron. He matters. A lot.”

  Braids and feathers whipping around his face, Heron stepped back. “No. No. It’s not possible. Not a Chenayan. Not him.”

  A scarred hand gripped Heron’s shoulder, squeezing it, then her father stepped into view. Lynx couldn’t tear her eyes away from the pain and horror on Heron’s face to greet him.

  Heron spun and disappeared.

  Lynx gripped the informa until her fingers whitened with fear for Axel. Winds, please protect him until he can defend himself.

  Her father’s voice came in, and she looked his way.

  “. . . never expected to see you like this, Lynxie. I assume our discussion about guardsmen’s powers is now moot.”

  They had to be alone in the airship, or her father would never have said that. Or did he just not care anymore, having seen the craft and her image projected across the airwaves? How could the Norin—anyone—fight against such marvels with mere crossbows and swords?

  “It is so good to see you, Father.” Relief flooded through her. “I have missed your counsel so much.”

  “Bear?” her father asked about his brother and emissary in Cian.

  “Is dead.” Her breath hitched. “They killed him before the wedding. Felix sent me his personal effects. I have them here. I can send them to you if—”

  Lynx stopped speaking at the pain searing her father’s face. Although she hadn’t known her uncle well, she wanted to cry with him. Then a horrible thought struck. Would it affect her father’s willingness to help Axel?

  Before she could offer any explanation, he straightened his shoulders and asked in a choked voice, “You and Kestrel? Are you safe?”

  Lynx looked over at Kestrel to call her to talk to him, but, contrary to what Tao had suggested, she had left the room. Lynx shook her head in astonishment. With luck, their father would think Kestrel hadn’t been given access to the informa.

  “Thus far, we live,” she said as brightly as she could.

  Her father was not unaware of the history of Norin brides in Chenaya. He could work out what she meant. From his expression, he’d worked it out all too well. “I wish—”

  “Axel and Stefan will tell you all you need to know about Kestrel and my life here,” Lynx interrupted. Wishes helped no one, and she might never get another chance to speak with him again. “Please, treat them well. Especially Axel. He saved my life. That quarrel was intended for me.”

  “For you?”

  “Long story. Let Axel tell you. Trust me, he will reward you with knowledge . . . so much knowledge, if you do that for him.”

  “Another one of your bargains, Lynx?” her father asked wryly.

  Lynx cracked a sad smile. “You know you always benefit from them.”

  Her father didn’t smile back. “You would have me believe Avanov is an honorable man? He oversaw the death and maiming of sixty-six of our people.”

  Lynx grimaced; there
was no denying that. “He’s no snowflake, I’ll grant. He’s a general who does what he has to in order to meet his objectives. But that does not mean he does not share Norin values. He is . . . different than any Chenayan I have ever known.”

  Her father ground his lips together thoughtfully. “His presence here is a matter of great concern. If I refuse to heal him, you and Kestrel could be harmed.” A shudder shook him. “But if I let him live, I risk a riot. I am watching our people down on the ground. They’re baying for the butcher’s blood.”

  It was Lynx’s turn to shiver with fear. She wanted to shout to him to go and protect Axel, but that was not how to handle her father and king. She modulated her tone. “Please, Father, there is another, greater opportunity here. Heal him and let him tell you about the empire’s technology. This airship, for example. We didn’t even know they had them.”

  “I already knew about the ships. Heron saw one after Buzzard was murdered for the murghi. He gave me a full report on it.”

  The finality in her father’s voice made Lynx panic. “There is so much more Axel can share. Please, Father, don’t squander this opportunity handed to us by the Winds.”

  A decisive brush of her father’s hand. “As King of the Norin, I will do with the Chenayans as I see fit.”

  There was nothing more Lynx could say. She had sworn fealty to her king, and when he made a royal declaration, she would submit.

  It brought another matter of fealty to mind.

  “Lukan and I have yet to consummate the marriage. That means my oath to you—”

  “I know what it means.” The words were harsh, but her father’s eyes and face were gentle. Filled with caring and concern. “Why, is what interests me more. We both know he desires you. Or does Axel Avanov have a hand in this, too?”

  “Not so simple. I admit, I love Axel. He is my first and only choice, but I am married to Lukan, as honor dictates.” Lynx let out a slow breath. If that didn’t persuade her father to help and then to listen to Axel, nothing would. “My husband just has a different view on what marriage means. He was behind the plot to kill me. I can never trust him again.”

  “And Avanov . . . Axel? What of his feelings for you?”