by Zoe Ashwood
Adriana looked at the ledge, which was high enough that she couldn’t easily scale it, then met Steven’s gaze. “Go,” she whispered.
He shook his head and extended his hands. “Come on, Adriana. Hurry!”
“Go,” she screamed. “If you don’t save the queen, we’ve failed. Go now, that’s an order!”
She had no real authority over him, but Steven’s face hardened, and he nodded. Then he flicked a button on the hover sled’s control panel, took up the steering stick, and the vehicle dove into the night. The queen screamed as they sped away, telling him to return, but Adriana was pleased to see Steven wasn’t listening.
A hand grabbed her shoulder, and she was spun roughly around.
The man facing her was none other than Regent Gilmar, surrounded by his personal guard.
“Where did they go?” he snarled.
Adriana remained silent. The regent cursed and pulled a small, shiny device from his pocket. With a vicious grin, he pressed a button.
“It won’t work,” Adriana told him. “She’s free from you.”
The regent glared at her, then pressed the button again and again. Adriana hoped to god that Jean’s solution had worked—if it hadn’t, the queen was likely writhing in excruciating pain at the moment.
“Find her,” he ordered his guards, and they trooped out of the room, leaving her alone with him.
Even though she was facing a single man instead of six, a bead of cold sweat rolled down her back. He looked unhinged, and she wasn’t sure to what lengths he’d go to secure his position.
“You think you can ruin me? That the little bitch you helped save was really necessary for my plan?” He spat at her feet. “And to think the Naals idiots are consorting with you. Filth.”
Well. This was enlightening. The grand diplomat was less than charming in private. Adriana couldn’t say she was surprised. She inched to the left, trying to go for the door, but Gilmar wasn’t stupid, just enraged. He grabbed her by the front of her dress and tossed her into a corner, where she hit her head on the wall.
The room spun, and Adriana spit out blood—whether it was from that slap she’d received from the guard or this new injury, she didn’t know, but she was scared. The sheer strength of this man was terrifying; he’d thrown her as though she weighed nothing. She knew Rendians were stronger than humans and she wasn’t a very strong human to begin with. For the first time since they’d conceived this plan, she doubted her own sanity.
What was she doing, taking on an alien planet’s politics? She should have kept her head down, let someone else take care of this mess.
But shame flooded her veins at that moment of doubt. She thought of Taron, who’d dropped everything to fly after her into enemy territory, right into a freaking ice storm. She thought of Queen Zeema, a girl too young to even take the throne, taking out the guard who had been torturing her. She thought of the empty villages she’d seen at the Murrun lakes.
She couldn’t let this man win. When he came closer to strike her again, she fought like a wildcat, scratching his eyes, biting the hand with which he closed her mouth so her screams wouldn’t reverberate around the bathroom.
But it didn’t matter—he was too strong, and now she was on her back, and the regent’s large hands closed around her throat. Black spots danced across her vision. She scratched against his forearms, but he was wearing armor under his courtier’s clothes. He was crushing her windpipe…
“Sir, you need to see this.”
A soldier appeared at the door, breaking the regent’s concentration. He released Adriana, and she sucked in a painful, desperate breath. Curling up on her side, she whimpered, her throat raw, her vision blurry with tears. Fuck, getting nearly strangled hurt.
Gilmar kicked her, but the move was half-hearted at best and barely glanced off her shoulder; she covered her head with her arms and hoped that whatever it was, he’d be moved to go investigate.
“There’s a transmission going, sir,” the soldier said, his gray eyes wide. “It…appears to be broadcast nationwide.”
The regent didn’t even glance at her; he stalked out of the room, the soldier scrambling behind him.
Slowly, Adriana pushed to her hands and knees, though she nearly collapsed. She needed to get out of there. Her friends might be in danger, too—and she knew with a cold, bone-deep certainty, she would not survive if that psycho returned to finish what he’d started.
She crawled to the door and used the wall to get to her feet. Everything hurt—her jaw, her head, her throat, and a hundred other pains and bruises. But she was breathing, so that was a definite bonus. She would not be the first human to die on this strange, beautiful planet.
22
Taron
Adriana was not on the hover sled. The realization hit him in the chest with a concussive force the second he laid eyes on the approaching vehicle. She was not with Zeema and Steven, which meant a part of the plan had gone terribly wrong.
The rooftop in the lower city, where they’d agreed to meet, was dusted with snow, only his footsteps marring it. He’d been pacing back and forth for the past hour. As they’d agreed, he’d gotten rid of the two guards, then accompanied his brothers to the barracks, where they explained to the soldiers, in no uncertain terms, that the regent’s rule would soon be coming to an end.
The two idiots who’d tried to run, probably to warn Gilmar’s private force, were swiftly dealt with—they would be tried and executed for treason after the dust settled from tonight’s coup.
But it seemed like their plan had had a flaw in it: Adriana should have been on that sled with the queen, but Steven’s face was grim as he maneuvered to land on the roof.
Taron launched himself at the human, knocking him from the sled and onto the icy ground. “Where is she?” he roared, punching the idiot who’d left her at the palace.
“She couldn’t board,” the soldier shouted, fighting to throw Taron off.
His moves would have been decent if he were a Rendian, but his strength was nothing compared to Taron’s. He lifted the man’s shoulders and slammed him back down so his head bounced on the tiled roof.
“How could you leave her?”
Then strong hands closed on his shoulders, tugging him back. “Taron, wait!” Zeema’s voice—he hadn’t heard her speak in weeks, it seemed, and then only in timid whispers because the regent had always been near.
“Stop it, you’re killing him.”
Taron growled but released the human. Steven fell back with a groan and didn’t move. Maybe Taron broke his neck. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel remorse.
“Explain,” he commanded, fixing his younger cousin with a glare. He didn’t care that she was his monarch at that moment. He’d done everything in his power to save her, yes, but if Adriana was left behind…
“She told us to leave,” Zeema whispered. She hugged herself and added, “She helped me, and then she didn’t have the time to climb out. If she’d tried, the soldiers could have shot Steven or me through the window. But she told us to go.”
Her big blue eyes were so earnest and frightened, Taron knew she was telling the truth. Adriana would have done exactly that. She’d taken care of others, made sure the queen was safe, and sacrificed herself.
“Fuck!” he roared, uncaring of who might hear them.
“What will you do?” Zeema asked, her voice tremulous.
Next to them, Steven groaned and got to his feet.
The queen rushed over to him and peered into his eyes. “Are you all right?”
The man nodded, then straightened and faced Taron. “I’m sorry. But our mission objective was to save Queen Zeema and disable her collar. We’ve done that. Adriana knew what she was doing, and she ordered me to leave.”
Taron closed his eyes. The feeling of unease that blossomed in his chest every time he was apart from her now gaped inside him, a black hole of rage and despair. His Adriana could be dead already or caught by the regent. What if he’d collared her?<
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“I need to return,” he murmured. He lifted his head and looked at the queen. “I need to help her.”
She nodded. “Go.”
“I thought I’d be the one to lead you to safety,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’d agreed…” He shook his head. “But I can’t leave her.”
Steven cleared his throat from beside him. “Sir, I’ll escort her.”
Taron resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Much good you’ll be.” But he sighed, took one of the spears from the hover sled, and threw it to Zeema. “Take this. Stun anyone who would dare stand in your path.”
She nodded, then inclined her head to the human. “Let’s go.”
They disappeared over the edge of the roof, leaving Taron alone beneath the clear, diamond-studded sky.
He didn’t have the time to admire the universe, though. He jumped onto the hover sled and turned it back toward the shining black palace.
He had a woman to save and an enemy to kill.
23
Adriana
“Regent Yaroh ad Gilmar murdered the king and most of his Cabinet…”
Kol’s voice reverberated around the room, which was otherwise completely silent. The guests all stood, no longer reclining on the divans, no longer sipping wine or crunching on fried vissnae. Their faces were illuminated by the light coming from a large screen that had flickered to life on the broad chamber wall.
Adriana limped into the room. The guards didn’t even notice, so busy were they staring at the live transmission of the two Naals brothers.
Kol stood in front of a regiment of soldiers, Lhett a step behind him. They both looked splendid in their full armor and clearly held the soldiers’ attention.
“The queen has been successfully rescued from the palace just half an hour ago. She is being escorted to a safe location until her collar can be removed.”
The small green delegates chittered loudly, their voices translated by Adriana’s ear implant. They were not happy with this revelation.
“Shut it down!” The regent stormed ahead, pointing at a servant standing by the wall. “Kill it, now.”
The servant scrambled to obey, but the damage was done. As one, every single person in the room turned to look at the regent.
“These men,” Gilmar spat, “are nothing more than disgraced soldiers who would stop at nothing to take the power. They are the ones who killed the king, and if I hadn’t protected the queen, they would have murdered her, too. Did you know that Lhett ad Naals is the next in line for the throne?”
Hanne gasped at that; Adriana guessed that the former general hadn’t mentioned that to his human charge. Then Hanne’s gaze fell on her, and she broke away from the table, running to help.
Adriana swayed with relief. Maybe she could just lie down for a moment…
A guard rushed forward and put out his spear to prevent Hanne from reaching Adriana. He didn’t fire at her, but the movement was clear and menacing: make another move, and you’ll get hurt.
Mika appeared behind Hanne and pulled her back, her dark eyes narrowed.
Then Jean was there, pushing them both behind him. “Where is the queen, then?” he called out.
“Yes, yes, show us the queen,” the green-skinned delegates screeched, their tentacles now waving in a wholly different pattern.
The regent hesitated for a single second. Then he drew back his shoulders and plastered on a smile. “She has been taken to a safe location by her guards. This criminal,” he calmly continued and pointed at Adriana, “tried to ambush her in the bathroom.”
Two more guards appeared by Adriana’s sides, and they hoisted her up by her arms, their grips painfully hard. She struggled, but she was so tired, and everything hurt.
“That’s not true!” Mika shouted, throwing herself against Jean’s hold. “Look at her! Look what they did!”
“The queen is wearing a tracking device,” the regent continued without a blink. “She was never in any real danger, thanks to the brave sacrifices of my men.” He spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Come, I don’t want this incident to destroy our lovely evening. Drinks, anyone?”
The members of the human delegation who hadn’t been in on the plan stared at Adriana as though wondering whether she really had tried to murder the queen.
“He’s lying,” she tried to yell, but her voice was too hoarse from the regent’s choking. “The queen is with Steven!”
Jean motioned to Ben to grab Mika, who would have impaled herself on the guard’s spear—she was still shouting with rage. Hanne was quietly moving back, looking at the window, possibly planning an escape. Then Jean jumped forward, slapped the spear aside, and tackled the guard. A commotion rose, chairs overturned as the Rendian nobles retreated and the soldiers advanced.
Then Jean twitched violently and collapsed on the floor; a second guard had shocked him with a bolt of electricity, and now the big Canadian lay there, his eyes rolled back.
Mika stopped struggling against Ben, her hands flying to her mouth, and the doctor tried to check Jean’s vitals. The guards wouldn’t let him.
Adriana shouted at the other humans to help, but they stood huddled in a group, apart from Grahame, who was watching the chaos unfold from a corner, his arms crossed over his chest. He wouldn’t step in to help until it was clear which side would win, she knew, and at the moment, the regent certainly seemed in control.
As though he could hear her thoughts, Gilmar motioned to the musicians who still stood on a raised dais at the other end of the room. “A song, please,” he demanded, “to put us in a better mood after this, ah, inconvenience.”
Adriana’s guards held her tight, not giving an inch, no matter how she struggled.
“When the people find out what you did at Murrun, they’ll revolt,” she yelled, her hair flying everywhere. She likely looked deranged if the delegates’ shocked glances were any indication. They didn’t know her, didn’t know humans, but they did know Gilmar and had been doing business with Rendians for decades. Of course they were more likely to believe him if it was just her word against his. He could spin the tale however he wanted—and there was a dead guard in the bathroom to prove she’d been a part of the attack. The other, younger guard, would also wake up soon and testify that she’d stabbed him in the neck to tranquilize him.
“Guards, please take the distressed lady to a holding cell. I’ll deal with her later.” He pointed at Jean’s prone form. “And take that gentleman to the infirmary, please.”
Adriana couldn’t believe her ears. The man knew the queen was gone, yet he was acting as though this was just a minor blip in his plan. He was either mad or had an ace up his sleeve that they didn’t know about—and tracking Zeema’s collar wasn’t one of them. The resin would have taken care of that.
“Don’t listen to him,” she screamed as the guards turned her toward the door. “Listen to the Naals brothers!”
“Silence her,” the regent commanded, his voice no longer jovial.
A painful jolt shocked Adriana’s body for the second time that week, and then everything went black.
24
Taron
With anger and fear churning in his stomach, he jumped on the hover sled and sped back to the palace. He needed to find Adriana and make sure she was still alive first. Then he would bundle her up and carry her to the safe house where the queen and Steven were hopefully resting at that very moment. And he would never let her go.
This plan was too risky, he’d known it from the start, and he’d sacrificed Adriana’s safety for Zeema’s. It was the most difficult decision he’d ever had to make.
Adriana would have gone through with the plan with your blessing or without it. The truth rang clearly inside his mind. His human was brave and stubborn, and once she’d learned of their political trouble, she’d been focused on helping them.
Now she might die because of her generosity.
He neared the sheer palace wall, counting the windows from the groun
d up to find the ones in the great reception hall. It was situated in one of the large claw-like towers and offered spectacular views over the city and the frozen plains beyond. The large windows were a luxury only the kings and queens of Rendu could afford—a show of wealth, because preserving what little heat they had was the main concern for most of his people.
The hover sled allowed him to approach the windows from below. He had no intention of giving away his position. He was vulnerable enough, exposed on the sled without the protective shell of an airship around him, but he couldn’t afford to waste the time it would take to get another aircraft. He needed to see what was going on in the hall.
Rising ever so slowly, he poked his head above the windowsill. The first thing he noticed was that the large screen had been turned off—it should have been playing Kol’s message on a loop.
The city below him was already roiling. Every Rendian with access to a broadcasting device had already seen the video, because they’d sent it through the emergency line, which usually served to inform the nation of military drills or upcoming quakes and thermal eruptions.
The people were not pleased with what they heard, and if the regent didn’t surrender peacefully, he’d have a furious mob hammering down the palace doors within the hour.
But Gilmar didn’t seem to be worried. In fact, he stood at the head of the table, grinning broadly, and lifted his glass in a toast. Taron couldn’t hear his words through the multi-paned window, but something definitely didn’t fit…
At that moment, Taron glimpsed two guards carrying a red-clothed bundle out of the reception hall.
Adriana.
His body went cold with fury and purpose. He quickly measured the window with his gaze—if he tried opening it from the outside, the guards would strike him down, and the hover sled would crash on the streets below…
