“Stay,” he whispered.
“I already agreed to stay for a while,” I murmured, unsure what he was asking.
“Stay with me. Permanently.”
I didn’t expect the sharp stab of yearning. Home was something I’d craved for a long, long time. I knew I couldn’t accept, but curiosity made me ask, “As what? Your guest? Your mistress? An exiled queen in need of assistance?”
“As whatever you’d like.”
“And what happens when you have to get married?”
“Then I hope you’ll say yes.”
Every cell in my body froze. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
His smile was so tender it hurt. “No, it’s too soon, as evidenced by you turning to stone in my arms.”
My emotions were in a jumble that I couldn’t begin to sort out. “But you hardly know me.”
“I know enough.”
Bitter laughter bubbled up. “You really, really don’t. I joined a mercenary squad at ten. By fifteen, I was a proficient killer. I earned enough credits to buy my augments and my own ship by twenty. By the time I quit at twenty-five, I’d become a legend in the elite merc circles. I’ve lost track of the number of people I’ve killed, and I regret many of their deaths. My soul is stained with blood.”
“You’re the Golden Dahlia. I know.”
I met his eyes, but I didn’t see condemnation. “How?”
“I saw you give the card to Finlay and caught his message.”
“That was you I saw in the bar that night. That was a stupid risk. Did you think Luka would betray me? Were you only at Blind?”
“No, I trust Luka. He would’ve protected you as well as he protects me, but I wanted to be nearby in case you ran into more trouble than the two of you could handle.” He chuckled. “Of course that would likely take an armored assault vehicle guarded by two platoons of berserkers. I followed you to the other two bars, but I ditched the coat for a hat and balaclava. You almost caught me when you circled back.”
“Does Luka know you were out?”
“He might’ve caught me outside Blind. Then I had to listen to him yell at me all night via neural link.”
I kind of agreed with Luka, not that I would ever tell him. But Valentin was trying to distract me, and I needed him to understand what being the Golden Dahlia really meant. “I killed people for money, and while I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it exactly, I liked the challenge and I loved the money. There is no rosy side here. When I could afford to be picky, I tried to ensure the targets deserved what they were getting, but there were times when I couldn’t.”
“I killed as a soldier, and then as I climbed into command, I ordered soldiers into battles I knew they couldn’t win, just to buy the rest of the fleet more time. You may have killed individuals or even small groups, but I’ve killed battalions for a rock neither side needed.”
“War is different.”
“It’s not,” he said, very quietly.
“Even if I wanted to stay,”—and it was so, so tempting—“I have a responsibility to my people. I can’t abandon them. The war between you and Quint has already cost them their homes. The Rogue Coalition was their last hope. I won’t take away that hope.”
“I know. It was a selfish request. But what if the war were over? And we split time between here and there?”
I looked at him in surprise. “You would be willing to live part-time in Arx?”
“After the war is over, yes. Like you, I can’t abandon my people when they need me.”
Cautious hope bloomed. “In that case, once the war is over, I’m willing to try.”
His thumb brushed my jaw. “Then I will end the war.” He said it with such certainty that I believed he could do it. The hope grew roots and burrowed into my heart. A happy, buoyant smile broke across my face.
He matched my smile and sealed the promise with a kiss that threatened to send me up in flames. Before I could lose my mind, I broke away with a groan. Valentin had just been let out of medical earlier today, after a grievous injury. “Did Junior clear you for strenuous activity?”
I could tell from his face that he wanted to lie, but he sighed and shook his head.
“How long?”
“A week, but I feel fine.” He gave me a wicked smile. “And this isn’t strenuous; I’m just sitting here.” I pressed my hand to his chest and felt his heart racing. When I quirked an eyebrow at him, he grinned. “He didn’t mention anything about heart rate.”
I kissed him gently, to comfort rather than entice. “I just got you back. I don’t want to lose you again.”
He gathered me close and pressed a kiss to my temple. “You won’t,” he promised.
I planned to hold him to that promise.
Epilogue
When Asmo realized how much data we had on him, he sang like a bird. And he had a lot of evidence of Hannah’s treachery, all carefully documented. Prison was too good for him, but Valentin felt like he had to keep his word.
I had no such compunction where traitors were concerned, but no one asked me.
Hannah sent my message to Adams the day after I talked to her at dinner. She sent me a confirmation with a meeting time and location a month from now. I suppose she’d thought that she could get two loose ends to solve themselves, but all she’d done was give Valentin more evidence against her. She and her husband were both arrested.
Asmo’s trial went off without a hitch, exactly a week after I’d first arrived in Koan. Despite Valentin’s complaints about red tape, he could make things happen quickly when he was determined.
The tribunal found Asmo guilty of high treason and sentenced him to life in prison. His sister and his family’s company were left alone, but Valentin assured me that he had them all under heavy surveillance.
Hannah’s trial was the next day, a week after the attack on Valentin, and the tribunal was not as forgiving. She tried to sway them to her side with threats and ultimatums, but the tribunal wasn’t having it. Both she and Leo were convicted of high treason and conspiracy to commit murder. They were sentenced to death, the first capital punishment in the Kos Empire in more than a century.
Lee and Daniels were scheduled for a special military tribunal next week. Valentin did not expect their cases to have any surprises. Lee still hadn’t confessed or spoken to anyone at all, but a review of her finances showed the payments from Hannah.
Nikolas remained in Koan. I’d given Margie his location and she’d gone to see him twice a day until he’d finally let her in. She refused to talk about it, but I hoped she was making progress. If Nikolas really had been working with Hannah and Asmo, then his life was about to get far more difficult without his allies.
Commander Adams had disappeared. With the bounty Valentin had posted, he wouldn’t find any refuge in Kos space, and I also had my own people looking for him. So far, he remained a ghost, but I held out hope that he would actually show at the meeting Hannah had arranged, even though we both knew it was a trap.
Meanwhile, Valentin kept working on the peace treaty with Quint. He had returned the two captured soldiers, much to Chairwoman Soteras’s delight. She had promised they would receive swift justice. It would likely take a year or more to hammer out all of the treaty details. Adams was obviously against peace and had enough influence to become a problem, so he would need to be dealt with before he could derail the entire treaty.
I’d done as much as I could in Koan, so I reluctantly returned to Arx to prepare for my next hunt. I hated to leave before Valentin’s week-long strenuous activity ban was up, but the faster I dealt with Adams, the faster our future would be safe.
And I was not going to let some asshole who couldn’t accept defeat steal my future happiness.
Commander Adams’s days were numbered.
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CHAPTER ONE
* * *
Lady Taylor had bugs in her walls and not the kind with jointed legs and crunchy bodies. The tortured piano in the corner whined out something that vaguely resembled music as I fought the urge to pull out my com and track the signals to their sources. Three different broadcast frequencies meant at least three different agencies were interested in what happened at a Consortium ladies’ afternoon tea.
Or perhaps they were just interested in Lady Taylor.
My mind spun down that avenue, looking for motive, before I forcefully reined it in. I had to focus, dammit. If only these events weren’t so dreadfully dull.
A nearby conversation caught my attention. I smiled into my teacup as the two girls behind me debated in fierce, heated whispers whether or not I’d killed my husband. They didn’t realize the terrible piano music wouldn’t hide their discussion.
My youngest sister stiffened at my side as she overheard a particularly exuberant theory. I put a restraining hand on her arm. Catarina’s eyes flashed with fury, but I minutely shook my head and she settled down. She glanced behind us, no doubt cataloging the girls’ faces for future retribution.
Neither the words nor the speculation bothered me, and indeed, they gave me something to focus on. But my youngest sister had always chafed at the daily viciousness of Consortium life.
A quick glance confirmed the girls were from one of the lower houses. A brunette with straight hair, tan skin, and a face just a touch too narrow for true beauty sat beside a stunning young woman with ebony skin and black curls. We had been introduced at some point, but memory was fluid and mine more than most. I couldn’t recall either of their names.
This was likely their first social season—they hadn’t yet learned how to subtly skewer an opponent with a smile and a few well-chosen words. Even Catarina could probably send them from the room in tears with little more than a sentence.
Besides, the girls’ speculation as to how I could’ve killed Gregory provided some much-needed distraction. The formal sitting room was almost claustrophobically small, with no windows and heavy, ornate furniture. You’d never know we were in the penthouse of a thirty-story building.
The two dozen impeccably dressed, sharp-eyed women seated in little cliques facing the piano only added to the oppressive atmosphere.
“Bianca, why do you let them continue?” Cat asked in an exasperated whisper. I’d been on the receiving end of many exasperated whispers lately.
“What, you don’t think I paid Gregory’s mistress to get him drunk and push him down the stairs?” I asked, quoting the latest ridiculous suggestion.
Uncertainty flashed across her face as her mask slipped the tiniest bit. “Of course not,” she said stoutly. She shot me a sly smile and continued, “You’re a von Hasenberg—you’d do it yourself.”
That was as close as any of my sisters ever got to asking me what had really happened. And every time it caused a riot of emotions—fear, anger, relief, love—as I waited to see if this time would be the time they would ask.
I set my teacup on its saucer with precise, iron-willed control. The two pieces met without the telltale rattle that would indicate my internal turmoil. The interminable piano piece finally came to an end, saving me from having to respond.
“—was poison—” the curly-haired gossip said into the sudden silence. She choked off the words on a strangled gasp. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her freeze as every person in the room turned her way. Her black curls trembled as she swallowed nervously. The sharks paused, smelling blood.
“What was that, dear?” Lady Taylor asked with false sweetness. She had a daughter—one who could not play the piano for love or money. If these two were shunned, her daughter would have a better shot at making a good match.
The silence stretched as the girl floundered. The second girl, the brunette, sat stone-still, doing her best to blend in to the furniture.
“She was asking if poison was the best option to remove a particularly stubborn weed,” I said smoothly. Lady Taylor’s laser gaze swiveled to me, but as the daughter of a High House, I outranked her, and she knew it.
“Is that so?” she asked.
I tipped up my chin a fraction. Ice frosted my tone. “You doubt my word?” When she took a second too long to answer, I stood. Catarina rose with me.
Lady Taylor paled beneath her flawless makeup as all eyes now focused on her. “Of course I didn’t mean—”
I would feel sympathetic, except she had meant to cause offense. She was conniving, and I’d let her get away with too much for too long because I just didn’t care. I’d already done my duty to my House, my position was secure, and I had no one I needed to impress.
But the moment she’d doubted my word, she’d taken it too far, a fact that was just now dawning on her.
“I realized I have somewhere else to be,” I said. I turned to the curly-haired gossip. She was as young as I expected, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. “Walk with me,” I said.
She rose but kept her head bowed. When the brunette started to rise, too, I shot her a quelling glare. She wilted back into her seat. She hadn’t attempted to bail her friend out, so she would have to fend off the sharks on her own.
I linked arms with the curly-haired girl and swept from the room over the protests of Lady Taylor. Catarina kept pace beside me. We didn’t speak until we’d cleared the front door.
“My lady, I’m so sorry,” the girl said miserably as I pulled her along toward the transport platform.
“You should be,” Catarina said.
I rolled my eyes. “What is your name?” I asked.
“Lynn Segura, second daughter of House Segura,” she said.
House Segura was a small House with modest assets, one of the many lower houses that made up the bulk of the Royal Consortium. “How did you manage an invite to Lady Taylor’s tea?” I asked. House Taylor was one of the more powerful lower houses.
“Chloe received an invite and brought me along,” she said. At my blank look, she blushed and elaborated, “Chloe Patel, first daughter of House Patel. She is the woman I was with.”
That made more sense. House Patel was also a lower house, but they had three eligible sons around the same age as Lady Taylor’s daughter. And their interests dovetailed nicely with House Taylor’s.
“Are you going to tell my father?” Lynn asked.
We emerged outside into the sun. The transport platform had tall glass panels to block the worst of the wind, but a breeze swirled gently, teasing the hem of my gray dress. Serenity sparkled under the cloudless sky. The only city on Earth and the heart of the Royal Consortium, Serenity was a hive of activity. Transports and ships crisscrossed the sky, glittering like jewels.
For all its flaws, I loved this city.
I let the girl fret in silence while the three of us climbed into the waiting House von Hasenberg transport. Catarina sat facing backward while I sat next to Lynn. I waved the embedded chip in my left arm over the reader. “Take us to Macall’s Coffee House,” I said. The transport chimed its acceptance, then slid off the thirtieth-floor platform and headed northwest.
The glass panel in the floor showed another transport in House von Hasenberg colors—black and gold—shadowing us from below. Our security detail was a new and unwelcome change, but three weeks ago we’d gone to war with House Rockhurst, so it was deemed a necessary evil.
If the ladies of the House hadn’t presented a united front, we would have had armed guards escorting us to tea. As it was, they escorted us to evening events, but only followed us via transport during the day. Serenity was officially neutral ground, but both Father and our director of security were paranoid.
Lynn practically vibrated in her seat, desperate to know if I’d tell her father but smart enough not to ask again. She had potential.
“I am not going to tell anyone,” I said. “We are going to enjoy a cup of coffee in public and have a nice chat, then we will part on agreeab
le terms. The next time I see you, I will make a point of saying hello.”
Lynn’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” she asked.
“Because your behavior made a boring tea interesting. And because if I do not, Lady Taylor will destroy you.”
Lynn flinched as the full implication of her actions hit her. She squared her shoulders and met my eyes. “What can I do to repay you?”
I tilted my head as I regarded her. I’d saved her because I could and because I remembered my own disastrous first season. I hadn’t expected anything in return, but I wasn’t so hasty as to turn down a debt freely offered, either. She wasn’t the first girl I’d saved, and thanks to that, I had eyes in many places.
“You do not have to do anything,” I said seriously, “but if you ever overhear anything you think I might find interesting, I would be grateful if you would let me know.”
She nodded, her eyes bright. “Consider it done.”
Macall’s Coffee House occupied a ground-floor corner of a tall office building in Sector Three of the von Hasenberg quarter. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around two sides of the shop, giving those inside a sense of airy lightness.
The cafe was decorated in cream and brown, with real wood and leather furniture—no plastech dared to breach these walls. The tables and chairs were beautifully mismatched with charming, understated elegance. Someone had put a lot of time and effort into making the design look effortless.
House von Hasenberg retained a table with an ideal location: next to the window and slightly separate from the surrounding tables. All three High Houses retained tables, aware that as much business happened here as on the floor of the Royal Consortium. But because we were in the von Hasenberg quarter, our House had received the best location.
After the waiter left with our orders, I activated the silencer built into the table—another perk. By default, silencers only blocked sound in one direction, so we could still hear the people murmuring around us, but no one could eavesdrop on our conversation.
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